9-" 
 
BY THE AUTHOR OF "VILLA EDEN." 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 
 
 Revised Edition. In one volume, with Pictorial Title. 16mo. Cloth. Price, $2.00. 
 
 EDELWEISS. 
 
 One volume. With Pictorial Title. Square 16mo. Neat Cloth. Price, $ 1.00. 
 
 j^P* Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of the price, by the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
VTLLA EDEN: 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 By BERTHOLD AUERBACH. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY CHARLES C. SHACKFORD. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 1869. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 in the Clerk's Office ot* the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
 Cambridge. 
 
 * 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 A ROMANCE, BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH. 
 
 • BOOK I. — CHAPTER I. 
 THE APPARITION. 
 
 "Be patient a few minutes longer! 
 There's a man beckoning to go with us, 11 
 said the boatman to his passengers, two 
 women and one man. The man was gray- 
 haired, of slender form, rubicund face, and 
 blue eyes of a kincüy, but absent-minded 
 and weary expression ; a heavy moustache, 
 wholly covering the upper lip, seemed out 
 of keeping with this inoffensive face. He 
 wore a new summer suit of that fashionable 
 material which seems be-dashed and be- 
 sprinkled with white, as if the wearer had 
 purposely rolled himself in a feather bed. 
 He had, moreover, a pretty wallet attached 
 to a leather belt, and embroidered with blue 
 and red beads. 
 
 Opposite the man sat a tall and stately 
 woman, with restless eyes and sharp fea- 
 tures, that might once have been attractive. 
 She shook her head, vexed at the delay, 
 like one not accustomed to be kept waiting, 
 got up, and sat down again. She wore a 
 pale-yellow silk dress, and the white veil on 
 her gray round hat was wound about the rim 
 like the band around a turban. Again she 
 threw back her head with a quick move- 
 ment, then looked straight down before her, 
 as if not to show any interest in the stranger, 
 and boring with the point of her large para- 
 sol into the side of the boat. 
 
 Near the man sat a smiling, fair maiden, 
 in a blue summer suit, and holding in her 
 hand, by the elastic string, a small blue hat 
 ornamented with a bird's wing. Her head 
 was rather large and heavy, and the broad 
 forehead was made yet more massive by a 
 rich abundance of braided hair ; a large 
 curl on each side rested upon her shoulder 
 and breast. The girl's countenance was 
 bright and clear as the clear day which 
 shed its beams over the landscape. She 
 put on her hat, and the mother gave it a 
 little touch to adjust it properly. The girl 
 exchanged quickly her coarse leather gaunt- 
 
 lets for delicate, glossy ones which she took 
 out of her pocket ; and while drawing them 
 on with great dexterity, she looked at the 
 new-comer. 
 
 A tall and handsome young man, with a 
 full brown beard, a sinewy frame, a gray 
 shawl over his shoulder, and upon his head 
 a broad-brimmed gray hat with black crape, 
 came down the steep and zigzag path with 
 a vigorous step to the shore. He stepped 
 into the boat, and lifting his hat while bow- 
 ing in silence, displayed a noble white fore- 
 head shaded by dark-brown hair. His coun- 
 tenance spoke courage and firmness, and, 
 at the same time, had an expression that 
 awakened confidence and trust. 
 
 The girl cast down her eyes, while her 
 mother once more fastened and unfastened 
 her hat-string, contriving at the same time, 
 with seeming carelessness, to place one long 
 curl in front, and the other upon the shoul- 
 der behind, so as to be becoming, and to 
 look easy and natural. 
 
 The man in the mottled suit pressed the 
 white head of his cane to his lips. The 
 stranger, seating himself apart from the 
 others, gazed into the stream, whilst the 
 boat was moving rapidly through the water. 
 They landed at an island on which was a 
 large convent, now a boarding-school for 
 girls. 
 
 " Oh, how beautiful! and are the lessons 
 learned there ? " asked the girl, pointing to 
 a group of lofty trees on the shore, clus- 
 tered so near together that they seemed to 
 have grown out of one root, and with low 
 seats inside the grove. " Go on !" said the 
 mother with a reproving look to the girl, 
 and immediately taking her husband's arm. 
 The girl went on before, and the stranger 
 followed them. 
 
 In the thickets sang the nightingales, 
 the blackbirds, and the finches, as if they 
 would proclaim, " Here is the peace and 
 the rest of Paradise, and no one disturbs 
 us." The dark fir-trees with their shelter- 
 ing branches, and the long row of light- 
 
2 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 green larches stood motionless by the shore, 
 and bees hummed in the blossoming chest- 
 nut-trees. They reached the convent. The 
 building, without any architectural pecu- 
 liarity, had an extended prospect of the 
 garden, the meadows on the island, the 
 river, and the mountains. It was shut up, 
 and no human being was to be seen. The 
 old gentleman pulled the bell ; a portress 
 opened a small window, and asked what 
 was wanted. Admission was demanded, 
 but the portress replied that it could not 
 possibly be granted that evening. " Take 
 in my card, and say to the good mother 
 that I am here with my wife and daughter,' 1 
 said the old gentleman. "Permit me to 
 add also my card, 1 ' said the stranger. The 
 three looked round, struck by the pleasant 
 tone of his voice. The stranger handed his 
 card, and added, "Please say to the worthy 
 Lady Superior, that I bring a message of 
 greeting from my mother. 1 ' 
 
 The portress closed the window quickly, 
 while the four stood at the entrance. " I 
 took you for a Frenchman, 1 ' said the old 
 gentleman with a kindly tone to the young 
 man. "I am a German," he replied. 
 " Have you then a relative in the convent, 
 and are you acquainted with the good 
 mother? 11 "No, I know no one here. 11 
 The answers of the stranger were so short 
 and direct, that he gave no opportunity to 
 continue the conversation, and the old gen- 
 tleman appeared to be a man of position 
 and character, who was accustomed to be 
 addressed, and not to make advances. He 
 walked with the two ladies towards a beau- 
 tiful flower-bed, and placed himself with his 
 companions upon a seat. But the girl was 
 restless, and walking up and down along 
 the edge of the meadow, she gathered the 
 hidden violets. The young man remained 
 standing as if rooted to the spot, staring at 
 the stone steps which led up to the cloister- 
 door, as though he must find out what va- 
 rious destinies had already gone in and out 
 over them. 
 
 Meanwhile, the old gentleman said to his 
 wife, " That elegant young man appears to 
 me to be a gambler, who has lost all his 
 means at one of the neighboring baths. 
 Who knows but that he wants to borrow 
 money of the Lady Superior ? 11 She laughed 
 at her husband for being disposed to see 
 now, for the third time during this journey, 
 a criminal or a ruined man in the persons 
 they chanced to meet. 
 
 " You may be right," said the old gentle- 
 man ; "but that's the mischief of these 
 showy establishments, that one supposes 
 everybody he meets has something to do 
 with* them. Besides, just as it happened 
 with our daughter — " I 
 
 1 ' Wl it happened with me ? " asked the 
 girl from the meadow. " Why," continued 
 the father, " how often, when walking be- 
 hind you at the baths, have I heard people 
 say, ' What beautiful false hair ! ' no one 
 now thinks that there is anything genuine." 
 
 The girl laughed merrily to herself, and 
 then adding a violet to the nosegay on her 
 bosom, called out, " And I believe the 
 stranger is a poet." "Why?" asked the 
 mother. " Because a poet must be hand- 
 some like him." The old gentleman laughed, 
 and the mother said, "Child, you are 
 manufacturing a poet out of your own im- 
 agination ; but, silence ! let us go, the port- 
 ress is beckoning to us." 
 
 The convent door opened, and the visi- 
 tors entered. Behind the second grated 
 door stood two nuns in black garments 
 with hempen cords about their waists. 
 The taller nun, an old lady with an extraor- 
 dinarily large nose, told them that the Lady 
 Superior was sorry not to be able to receive 
 any one ; that it was the evening before 
 her birth-day, and she always remained, on 
 that day, alone until sunset ; that there was 
 a further difficulty in admitting strangers 
 to-day, as the children — for so she called 
 the pupils — had prepared a spectacle with 
 which to gretet the Superior after sun-down ; 
 that everything was in disorder to-day, as 
 a stage had been erected in the great din- 
 ing-hall ; that the Superior, however, had 
 ordered that they should be shown over the 
 convent. 
 
 The two nuns led the way through the 
 main passage. Their step was hard and 
 noisy, for they wore wooden shoes fastened 
 to the feet by leather straps over the stock- 
 ings. The smaller and prettier nun, with 
 her delicate features pinched up in the close- 
 fitting cap, had kept herself timidly in the 
 background, allowing the oilier to do the 
 talking. But now she addressed the girl 
 in the blue muslin dress, speaking in French. 
 The mother gave a nod of satisfaction to 
 the father, as much as to say, " There, now ; 
 you see it was worth while to let the child 
 learn something ; that was my doing, and 
 you only reluctantly consented." The father 
 could not refrain from informing the nun 
 with the big nose that his daughter, Lina, 
 had returned, only six months before, from 
 the Convent of the " Sacred Heart 11 at Aix- 
 la-Chapelle. The stranger also spoke a 
 few words in French to the pretty nun. 
 But now, and as often as he addressed her, 
 she drew herself shyly back, apparently not 
 from timidity, but with a nervous involun- 
 tary shrinking into herself. 
 
 The breakfast-room, school-room, and 
 music-room, and the large dormitories 
 were shown to the strangers, and they 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 3 
 
 admired the neatness and good order 
 everywhere seen. Especially in the sleep- 
 ing-rooms everything was arranged as 
 prettily and neatly, as if not real human 
 beings, much less careless children, inhabit- 
 ed them, but as if everything had been 
 made ready for fairy visitants. In one little 
 bed only was there any disturbance. Lina 
 drew back the curtain, and a child with 
 great brown eyes looked up. The young 
 man had also come to the bedside. "What 
 is the matter with the child ? " asked Lina. 
 "Only homesickness." "Only homesick- 
 ness," said the stranger in a low tone to 
 himself, while the lady asked, "How do 
 you cure homesickness?" "The house- 
 keeper has a sure method ; a child com- 
 plaining of homesickness is put on the sick- 
 list, and must stay in bed ; when she is al- 
 lowed to get up, the homesickness is gone, 
 and she feels at home." " Go away, all of 
 you ! go away ! I want Manna, I want 
 Manna," moaned the child. " She will 
 come soon," said the nun, soothingly, add- 
 ing in explanation, " No one but an Amer- 
 ican girl can pacify the child." " That must 
 be our Manna," said Lina to her mother. 
 The twilight was gathering, and through 
 the galleries, in the golden evening light, 
 strange forms rustled in long green, blue, 
 and red garments, and then vanished within 
 the cells. 
 
 The visitors went into the dining-room, 
 at the farther end of which there was the 
 representation of a forest scene with a her- 
 mitage ; and there lay a doe bound with a 
 red cord. The young creature fixed its 
 great eyes on the strangers, and tugging at 
 its cord, tried to get away. 
 
 The French nun said that the children, 
 aided by one of the sisters who had a nat- 
 ural talent that way, had themselves ar- 
 ranged the decorations. Large choirs had 
 been practicing, and one of the pupils, a 
 very remarkable child, had composed the 
 piece which represented a scene from the 
 life of the Superior's patron saint. 
 
 The German nun regretted that no stran- 
 ger could be present. A copy of the song 
 to be introduced in the play was lying upon 
 a chair. The lady, taking it up, read it 
 and handed it over to the young man,* who 
 ran through the verses. " It's astonishing 
 that a child should have composed them," 
 said the lady. The young stranger felt 
 obliged to make some reply, and observed 
 in a somewhat careless tone, " Our Ger- 
 man language, especially when used in 
 rhyming, is an instrument that can easily be 
 drummed upon, and thrummed upon, by 
 any child." 
 
 " I told you so ; he is a poet," said 
 
 the triumphant look of the gpirl to her pa- 
 rents. 
 
 As they were leaving the dining-hall, now 
 turned into a temporary theatre, Lina re- 
 marked to the pretty Frenchwoman how 
 sorry she was not to be able to see her 
 young friend, Hermanna Sonnenkamp ; she 
 herself was obliged to return that very eve- 
 ning with her parents, as they had been in- 
 vited to attend, to-morrow afternoon, a 
 reception at the Countess von Wolfsgar- 
 ten's. 
 
 The girl said this with a proud emphasis, 
 as if assured that every one must know 
 what was the full significance of a reception 
 at Count von Wolfsgarten's. The French- 
 woman must have noticed it, for she replied, 
 "Here, on the contrary, we do not know 
 each other by the names applied to us in 
 the world outside ; we here know only our 
 convent names." 
 
 "May I know yours?" "Certainly; I 
 am called sister Seraphia. 11 The girl seemed 
 now on more intimate terms with the French 
 sister, since she could call her " sister Se- 
 raphia ; " and she rejoiced at the thought of 
 being able to tell at home, in her own little 
 town, about the nun of high rank, at least a 
 princess, whose acquaintance she had made. 
 They walked back through the long gal- 
 lery, and as they went down the steps, 
 there came up a snow-white form with great 
 wings on its shoulders, and a glittering dia- 
 dem on its head, from which long black 
 ringlets streamed down over bosom and 
 neck. Deep, black eyes, with long lashes 
 and thick brows, gleamed out of the pale 
 countenance. "Manna!" cried Lina, and 
 "Manna!" echoed the vaulted ceiling. 
 The winged apparition grasped the hand 
 of the speaker, and leading her aside down 
 the stairs said, "Is it you, dear Lina? 
 Ah, I have only been with a poor child pin- 
 ing with homesickness ; to-day I cannot 
 speak a word with any other living soul." 
 
 " O, how wonderful you look ! how splen- 
 did ! To the child you must be a real live 
 angel ! And how glad they will all be at 
 home, when I tell them." 
 
 "Not a word about it. Excuse me to 
 your parents for flitting by them, and — 
 who, who is the young man here with 
 you ? " 
 
 The stranger seemed aware that they 
 were talking about him, and looked from 
 below up to the wonderful vision. He 
 shaded his eyes with his hand, to take a 
 better look, but he could see none of the 
 features, nothing but the mysterious shape 
 and the two gleaming eyes. 
 
 " We don't know who he is ; he joined us 
 first in the boat ; but," she added, smiling 
 
4 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 at her own •suggestion, "you can find 
 out, for he sent a greeting from his mother 
 to the Superior ; ask her by and by. Don't 
 you think him handsome ? 11 
 
 " O Lina ! how you talk ! May the 
 Holy St. Genevieve intercede with the dear 
 God to pardon you for saying that, and me " 
 — covering her face with her hands — " for 
 hearing it. Farewell, Lina, greet every 
 one for me. 11 
 
 As the Avinged apparition swept along the 
 corridor, she was unable to hear Lina 
 calling out that she would, to-morrow, 
 tell them at the Countess Wolfsgarten's 
 all about her. The vision vanished. They 
 left the convent, and at the door the old 
 gentleman said to the young man, "It is a 
 good thing for girls to be educated in a 
 convent on an island, away from the rest 
 of the world." " Girls at the convent, and 
 boys at the barracks ! fine world that ! " 
 answered the young man, in a sharp tone. 
 
 Without a word in reply, the old gentle- 
 man, turning away, drew off a few paces 
 with the ladies as if he wished to have no 
 further intercourse with a stranger of such 
 revolutionary sentiments. The stranger 
 hastened to the boat, and was speedily set 
 across. The stream was like pure, molten 
 gold, and the stranger dipping his fingers 
 into it bathed his forehead and eyes. He 
 sprang lightly ashore, and looking over to 
 the island-convent, saw the man, with wife 
 and daughter, just going down to the boat ; 
 he waved a distant farewell with his hat, and 
 with a rapid step went up the hill behind 
 the ruins of the castle, overlooking the 
 convent. He continued sitting there for a 
 long time, gazing fixedly at the convent on 
 the island. He heard songs from maiden 
 voices, saw the long row of windows bright- 
 ly lighted up, and at last, looking up to the 
 stars, he exclaimed, " O mother ! " 
 
 What did that mean ? Perhaps his mo- 
 ther had said to him, that at some time or 
 other a wonderful experience would come 
 over him. The nightingale in the thicket 
 sang on unceasingly, and the young man 
 listened to the song, but would gladly have 
 silenced it in order that he might hear more 
 plainly the singing of the children in the 
 convent, who with magic power had con- 
 jured up a dream of heaven into their ac- 
 tual life, and for one hour become choirs of 
 singing angels. "Alone in the spring night, 
 amidst the Castle-ruins with beating heart ! 
 Can it be I ? " said the young man to him- 
 self. 
 
 He descended the hill, and as he reached 
 the inn, met the man with the two women 
 just ready to start for the rail- road station. 
 He would have liked to ask the girl who 
 
 that wonderful apparition was, but he re- 
 strained himself. What would be the use ? " 
 Better that thou knowest her not ; then the 
 charm of the vision is pure and undisturbed. 
 He went into the inn ; he sat there and 
 read the bill of fare without knowing what 
 he was reading, and what he should select. 
 He stared at the card until the waiter came 
 and asked for it, in order to give it to an- 
 other guest. He ordered what happened to 
 meet his eye. " What wine would you like ? 
 We have ' Drachenblut ' of a choice vin- 
 tage." " Bring some Drachenblut." 
 
 He ate and drank without knowing what ; 
 he only knew that he must eat and drink some- 
 thing ; absently he took up a newspaper lying 
 upon the table. What are convents? what 
 are ruined castles ? what is the apparition of 
 a girl with wings ? Here is the world, the 
 real, the stirring, the actual world of 
 to-day. You come into an inn, weary 
 after a wide survey from a mountain 
 top, and involuntarily you lay hold of 
 a newspaper, — why is this ? It may be that 
 the eye and the mind, tired out by the mani- 
 festations of unmoving nature, become re- 
 freshed by viewing what is perpetually chang- 
 ing in the world ; you are alone, you need 
 to hear some word spoken by one to many, 
 and the newspaper tells you about the world 
 which has kept on its way Avhile you were 
 dreaming, while you were losing yourself 
 in the boundless prospect, and coming to 
 yourself again. 
 
 Yes, it is so now ! How it was in other 
 times, when one could live on in undisturbed 
 dreaminess, we can hardly imagine. At all 
 times — whether in the pressure of heavy af- 
 fliction, when our own life has become a bur- 
 den, and the world indifferent, or in exalted 
 feeling, when we are transported, as it were, 
 out of all actual existence — the newspaper 
 comes, and demands our attention, and 
 calls to us as if we were to cooperate every- 
 where in the various relations of the world. 
 
 What has America to do with the young 
 man ? and yet he has just read an account 
 of matters there ; the choice of a new Pres- 
 ident of the Republic was exciting all minds 
 in the New World, and the name of a man 
 who was a pattern of uprightness and world- 
 wide views, Abraham Lincoln, seemed to 
 penetrate everywhere, and to bring with it 
 a great crisis in the history of humanity. 
 Deeply interested, he looked up smiling, 
 for he remembered that the Frenchwoman 
 had said that an American girl could alone 
 console the homesick child, and that she 
 had also composed the play for the festival. 
 Here a child plays with sacred stories, 
 whilst all is in commotion in her Fatherland. 
 The thoughts of the young man were again 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 in the convent, and with the wonderful ap- 
 parition. 
 
 Just as he was laving down the paper, 
 his eye fell upon an advertisement. He 
 knit his brows, looked around, and read 
 again ; then asking permission to keep the 
 paper, he carried it with him to his cham- 
 ber. " A handsome man," said the guests, 
 after he had gone ; ' ' evidently a young 
 widower, who wishes to find distraction 
 from his grief in a Rhine-journey ; he wears 
 a weed on his hat." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 " UP TILE RIVER." 
 
 "Name: E#c Dournay. Title: Doctor 
 of Philosophy, late Army-Captain. Place 
 of departure : name of a small Univer- 
 sity city. Destination: Object of Jour- 
 ney : " 
 
 Such was the entry made by the young 
 man in the register of the inn early the 
 next morning ; and he now first noticed 
 written above his name, "Justice Vogt, 
 Lady, nee Landen, and Daughter, from " — 
 a small town on the Upper Rhine. That 
 was then the mottled gentleman of yester- 
 day with the two ladies. 
 
 Eric, for so we shall hereafter call him, 
 carrying his small valise, went down to the 
 steamboat-landing. The morning was fresh 
 and bright, life and song everywhere, and 
 only one little cloud, like a slight streak of 
 mist resting half way up the mountain- 
 side. Eric walked with a firm and erect 
 step, taking in full draughts of the fresh 
 morning air. He stood at the landing, and 
 looked into the water, from which a streak 
 of mist rose, and became dissolved in the 
 air. Then he gazed long at the island, 
 where the morning bell was ringing to wake 
 up the children, who had been transformed 
 the previous evening into legendary beings. 
 How would that girl with long, black hair 
 and glittering wings open her bright eyes ? 
 As if he must drive away this image, Eric 
 took the paper out of his pocket, and read 
 again the advertisement. On came the 
 puffing steam-boat pressing her bow against 
 the stream. 
 
 Eric had not noticed that two of the con- 
 vent nuns, one of whom was the pretty 
 Frenchwoman, had been also waiting for the 
 approaching boat. He did not see them 
 until after they had got on board. He 
 gave them a salutation, but received no re- 
 sponse except a look of surprise. They 
 took their breviary, sat down upon the deck 
 and said their prayers. On seeing them, 
 Eric thought he would ask who the girl was 
 with the wings ; but he came to the conclu- 
 
 5 
 
 I sion not to do so, for no result could come 
 from this occurrence, and he .wished to con- 
 centrate all his energies upon the project 
 he had in view. There were but few fel- 
 low passengers, and the morning hour does 
 not encourage sociability, as if the solitude 
 of sleep has yet an influence over human 
 souls. 
 
 Eric stationed himself near the helmsman, 
 who whistled incessantly in a low tone : 
 and lost in thought he looked at the up- 
 heaved water and the shore. Pressing to- 
 gether his finely cut lips, he seemed deter- 
 mined silently to take in the full poetic beau- 
 ty of this river and landscape that has never 
 been adequately portrayed, and often shook 
 his head as he heard two persons here and 
 there wasting in so-called conversation the 
 freshness of the morning and the quiet, in- 
 spiring influence of the scenery. We shall 
 often have occasion as we proceed, to im- 
 part information about this youth. At 
 present we will premise that Eric, the son 
 of respectable parents, receiving a careful 
 education, entered the military service, 
 and then, voluntarily resigning his commis- 
 sion, devoted himself to study. He had 
 just obtained his doctors degree, working 
 very hard to hasten this event, for only 
 two months had elapsed since the death of 
 his father. On the evening of the day he 
 had taken his degree, his mother urged him 
 to allow himself a few days' recreation. 
 Stroking his pale, thin face, she said, " You 
 will regain the fresh color of life ; life and 
 work are one's duty ; that was always what 
 your father said and did." 
 
 It was to be determined when Eric re- 
 turned what plan of life they would adopt. 
 The thought, which she could not keep 
 down, was very painful to the mother, that 
 they could no longer continue in their for- 
 mer mode of life without care and responsi- 
 bility, but must make provision for the 
 future, a state of things never contem- 
 plated by her. And with pain that she 
 sought to repress, but could not wholly con- 
 ceal, calling to mind a saying of Lessing, 
 she saw her son standing in the market- 
 place and asking for work. Moreover, she 
 hoped that her son would consent finally to 
 receive some position through patronage ; 
 at any rate he must again recover his fresh, 
 youthful looks. Had the mother seen him 
 now, she would have been astonished to see 
 how quickly that had taken place ; for a 
 brightness shone in his eye, and a color in 
 his countenance more briiliant and glowing 
 than in his best and most tranquil days. 
 
 For the sake of giving some special ob- 
 ject to his journey, she had commissioned 
 him to carry her greeting to the Superior 
 
6 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 of the convent. He was now on his return, 
 for a simple newspaper advertisement had 
 given an unexpected direction to his jour- 
 ney and his purposes. 
 
 Wonderful ! thought Eric to himself, 
 placing his hand upon the breast pocket 
 containing the newspaper, wonderful, how 
 the calls are given which send forth here 
 and there the adventurous Ulysses ! 
 
 Meanwhile he had sufficient youthful elas- 
 ticity not to neglect, for the sake of the 
 goal, the pleasures to be enjoyed by the 
 way. He watched with an intelligent 
 •glance the machinery of the boat, and the 
 life on the river and on the banks. At the 
 second landing the two nuns were to stop, 
 and the pretty Frenchwoman gave him a 
 backward nod, as she descended the side 
 ladder. When in the boat she sat looking 
 down with folded hands ; and on landing, 
 she gave no further look behind. 
 
 The passengers changed at every land- 
 ing. At one village came a band of pil- 
 grims, chiefly women with white kerchiefs 
 on their heads ; and when they disembarked, 
 a troop of Turners came on board, in their 
 light gray uniform, and immediately struck 
 up a song upon the deck, whilst the pil- 
 grims sang upon the shore. In all the cit- 
 ies and villages they passed bells were 
 ringing on that bright spring day full of 
 blossoms and sweet sounds, and Eric felt 
 all that intoxication which the Rhine-life 
 brings over the spirit, — that exhilaration 
 of every faculty, which comes no one knows 
 whence, as no one can say what gives to 
 the wine of these mountains its flavor and 
 its life. It is the breath of the stream ; it 
 is the fragrance of the mountains ; it is 
 the virtue of the soil ; it is the sunlight 
 that glows in man as in the wine, and ex- 
 cites an ethereal gladness which no one can 
 be free from, and which no one can explain. 
 
 Eric was often spoken to, but he held 
 himself aloof from all companionship, wish- 
 ing in the movement around him to be 
 alone with the delightful landscape. There 
 are words which become poles of thought 
 in the meditation of the lonely. Eric 
 heard one fellow traveller say to another, 
 
 "I prefer to go up the river, for one 
 can look at everything longer and more 
 closely, and it is a triumph of the human 
 mind that we can make headway against 
 the current. 1 ' 
 
 Against the current ! That was the word 
 which that day stuck fast to Eric out of the 
 thousand things he thought of and looked 
 upon. Against the stream ! That was al- 
 so his life-course. He had left the trodden 
 highway, and with bold self-determination 
 he had marked out a path of his own. It 
 
 is well, for one there learns more perfectly 
 the world about him, and, above all, learns 
 his own strength. 
 
 " Against the current ! " said he, smiling 
 to himself. "Let us see what will come of 
 it." It was high noon when he disem- 
 barked at a little mediseval city. 
 
 A young man standing on the shore 
 looked sharply at him, exclaiming, " Dour- 
 nay ! " "Herr von Pranken!" answered 
 Eric. They grasped each other's hands. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 DRINKING NEW WINE. 
 
 " Before people have fairly done shak- 
 ing hands, they say, ' Let us #rink.' It must 
 be the river there that makes you long so 
 to quench your thirst." 
 
 So spoke Eric to the tall, fair youth of 
 his own age, sitting opposite, who had 
 placed his nicely gloved hand upon a brown 
 spaniel whose head lay in his lap. The 
 dog frequently looked up to Eric, whose 
 deep, musical voice perhaps produced an 
 impression upon the creature. 
 
 " Here is the list of wines. What year 
 and what vintage do you prefer? Shall 
 we take new wine, still lively and ferment- 
 ing?" "Yes, new wine, and from the 
 mountain here upon which the sun lies so 
 cheerily, and where the cuckoo calls from 
 the wood; — wine native to the soil, and 
 blood- relation of this beautiful region." 
 
 Pranken in sharp, military accent gave 
 the order to the waiter, — "A bottle of 
 Auslese." The wine came, and was poured 
 out golden into the sparkling glasses ; the 
 two men touched glasses and drank. They 
 sat among the vines by the shore, where 
 the refreshing landscape stretched itself 
 out over green islands in the river, over 
 gleaming habitations, over vineyards and 
 mountains. 
 
 The boats by the shore were still, for the 
 swell made by the steamboat had subsided ; 
 here and there the distant rumbling of a rail- 
 way train was heard ; on the smooth stream, 
 in which the white clouds of heaven mirrored 
 themselves, beams of the noonday sun 
 sparkled, and in the foliage of the blossom- 
 ing elder the nightingale sang. 
 
 "This is life!" said Eric, extending his 
 arms. "After a day of loneliness amidst 
 the confused whirl of thoughts and of peo- 
 ple, to meet thus unexpectedly an old ac- 
 quaintance is indeed like home ; and let 
 me tell you, moreover, that I look upon 
 this meeting as a good omen." 
 
 Otto von Pranken nodded acquiescingly. 
 In the first surprise, he had, perhaps, given 
 Eric a warmer welcome than their ac- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 7 
 
 quaintance warranted ; but now that Eric 
 made no assumption of intimacy he nodded, 
 well pleased. Eric has the tact to know his 
 place ; it's well. Pranken immediately drew 
 off his glove, and reaching out his hand to 
 Eric, asked, "Are you taking a pleasure- 
 tour ? " 
 
 " No, I am not in the situation, nor would 
 this be the fitting time to do so. You prob- 
 ably do not know that my father died two 
 months ago." "Indeed, indeed! and I 
 shall be forever grateful to our good Pro- 
 fessor ; the little that I learned at the mil- 
 itary school — and it is little enough — I owe 
 altogether to him. Ah ! what patience and 
 what unremitting zeal your good father 
 had ! Let us pledge his memory.'" Their 
 glasses clinked. " When I am dead," said 
 Eric, and his voice had a tone of deep emo- 
 tion, "I should like that my son should 
 thus with a companion pledge my memory 
 in the bright noonday." 
 
 ' 1 Ah ! to die ! " Pranken wished to turn 
 the subject. " If I must die, that's enough, 
 without knowing what is said of me after- 
 wards. It is in a high degree offensive 
 to me, that they have placed their burying 
 ground in the midst of the vineyard yonder." 
 
 Eric made no reply, looking with fixed 
 gaze before him, and listening to the 
 cuckoo's voice calling at that moment from 
 the churchyard. "Are you an agricul- 
 turist ? " he asked, as if summoning together 
 his scattered thoughts. " A so*rt of one ; I 
 have taken off, I don't know for how long 
 it will be, my lieutenant's uniform, and 
 mounted the high jack-boots ; but I am 
 bored by the one as much as by the other." 
 He took his nail-cleaner out of his pocket, 
 and worked away industriously at his nails ; 
 then .with his pocket-brush he smoothed 
 down again his carefully parted but thin 
 hair, occasionally looking up to his, com- 
 panion opposite. 
 
 The two, sitting there for a little while 
 without speaking, sharply inspected each 
 other. Two awkward people, who are 
 placed in a position of helpless antagonism, 
 become mutually embarrassed ; two clever 
 people, who know each other's cleverness, 
 are like two fencers, who, familiar with each 
 other's ward and pass, will not risk a stroke 
 or thrust. Pranken bent over his glass, 
 inhaled the bouquet of the wine, and 6aid, 
 at length, half smiling, "Perhaps you will 
 now abandon your late Communistic views." 
 
 " Communistic! I had no idea that you, 
 like so many others, cover up everything 
 unpleasant with that convenient formula of 
 excommunication, ' Communism. 1 I should 
 like to be a Communist. I mean that I 
 should like to see in Communism a form 
 
 of organization adapted to the wants of soci- 
 ety, which it is not, and never can be. We 
 must take some other method than this, to 
 get rid of the existing barbarism which 
 compels our fellow human beings to be 
 without the most common necessities of 
 life. It is a bitter drop in my glass, that, 
 while I can here at leisure drink this moun- 
 tain-wine, yonder are poor hard-driven la- 
 borers who can never taste of it." 
 
 " To-day is a holiday, and no one labors 
 then," said Pranken, with a laugh. Already, 
 in this first meeting, the contrast of these 
 two young men was plainly to be seen. 
 Eric also laughed at this unexpected turn 1 
 from his comrade ; but he was mature 
 enough not to make a personal matter out 
 of a difference of theory. He therefore came 
 back to neutral ground, and the conversa- 
 tion flowed on quietly in recollections of 
 the past, and thoughts of the future. 
 
 In their carriage and gait, the military 
 training of the two young men was plainly 
 to be seen ; but in Eric the stiffness was 
 tempered by a sort of artistic grace. Pran- 
 ken was elegant, Eric noble and refined ; 
 every tone and movement of Pranken be- 
 spoke attention ; but his demeanor had 
 that cool insolence, or — if that is too harsh 
 a word — impertinence, which regards every 
 one outside of one's circle as non-existent, 
 or at least as having no right to exist. 
 
 Eric had an equally good figure, but he 
 was more easy and dignified. Eric's voice 
 was a fine, deep baritone, while Pranken's 
 was a tenor. Their different characters 
 could be seen also in their way of speaking. 
 Eric pronounced every word and letter dis- 
 tinctly ; Pranken, on the other hand, spoke 
 with a lazy drawl, as if the vowels and con- 
 sonants were too much for him, and as if 
 he must avoid all straining of the organs of 
 speech ; the wor$s dropped, as it were, 
 out of his lips, and yet he liked to talk, and 
 made excellent points. Pranken's remarks 
 were forcible, and came out in jets, like the 
 short canter peculiar to the Royal body- 
 guard. When talking upon the most ordi- 
 nary occurrence, his manner was somewhat 
 rattling and noisy, like one handling his 
 shoulder-belt, and joining or leaving a con- 
 vivial company. Eric had thought more 
 than he had talked. A secluded student 
 in the almost cloister-like retirement of 
 home, this bearing was wholly novel and 
 strange to him. 
 
 " Herr Baron," said the waiter, as he 
 brought in a bottle of native, sparkling 
 wine, " your coachman wishes to know if 
 he shall unharness the horses." 
 
 "No," he replied; and while he was 
 turning the bottle in the wine-cooler he 
 
8 
 
 THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 added to Eric: "I dislike to interrupt the 
 brief joy of this meeting with you. Ah! 
 you have no idea what a terrible bore this 
 extolled poetry of rural life is ! " Pouring 
 out a glass from the uncorked bottle, he 
 said laughing, " Compost, and again com- 
 post, is the word. The compost-heap is 
 an Olympus, and the God enthroned upon 
 it is called Jupiter Ammonia." Pranken 
 laughed aloud at his own witty outburst, 
 then drank olf his glass, and complacently 
 twirled with both hands the ends of his 
 moustache. • 
 
 Eric led the conversation back to the 
 *beauty of the Rhine-life, but Pranken in- 
 terrupted by saying, "If now somebody 
 would only take off the paint from this ly- 
 ing Lorelei, with her song about the beauty 
 of life on the Rhine ! So the poets always 
 speak of the dewy morning, and we had 
 to-day a blast from the mountains, as if the 
 angels in heaven had spilt all their milk 
 into the fire." 
 
 Eric could not help laughing ; sipping at 
 his glass, he said, "But the joy of the 
 wioe ! " " O, yes," replied Pranken, " the 
 old topers drink as a matter of business, 
 but without any poetry. They sit together 
 by the hour, always the same set, and the 
 same half-dozen anecdotes on hand ; or 
 they interchange a superannuated jest, and 
 then go home with red face, and staggering 
 feet, bellowing forth a song ; and that they 
 call Rhine joyousness ! The one really 
 merry thing in this whole Rhine-delusion 
 is the landlord's garland. " What's that ? " 
 "When the respectable godfather tailor 
 or shoemaker has laid in a cask of choice 
 vintage, more than he can or wishes to 
 drink, he hangs upon his house a green gar- 
 land ; and the old German family room, 
 with its hospitable Dutch stove covered with 
 green branches, and its gray cat under the 
 bench, is turned into a bar-room. Every 
 one is on hand from Smith street, Hare 
 street, Church street, Salt street, and Capu- 
 chin street. They drink the health of their 
 own wine ; this is the only mistress." 
 
 "Let us, too, rejoice in our wine," said 
 Eric. " See how the sun still glows in the 
 noble juice which it has so joyfully smiled 
 upon, and so diligently ripened. I drink 
 to thee, O Sun, past and present." With 
 a rapidity that seemed foreign from his or- 
 dinarily quiet mood, he emptied the glass. 
 
 " I have always thought," replied Pran- 
 ken, "that you were a poet. Ah, I 
 envy you ; I should like to have the ability 
 to write a satirical poem, so peppered that 
 the whole world would burn its tongue with 
 it." Eric smiled, saying that he had him- 
 self once thought that his vocation was to 
 
 be a poet ; but that he had perceived his 
 mistake, and was now resolved to devote 
 himself to some practical calling. "Yes," 
 he said, taking the newspaper out of his 
 pocket, " you can perhaps render me a ser- 
 vice that will determine my whole life." 
 " Gladly, if it is not against — " 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, for it has nothing to 
 do with theories of right, or political mat- 
 ters at all. You can perhaps help me to 
 an introduction." 
 
 "In love then? The handsome Eric 
 Dournay, the Adonis of the garrison, wants 
 some one to do his wooing ? " 
 
 "Nothing of that kind. I only want a 
 situation as private tutor. Look at this 
 advertisement : ' I desire for my son, fif- 
 teen years of age, a tutor of scientific edu- 
 cation and high-breeding, who will under- 
 take to give him such training as shall fit 
 him for a high station. Salary to be fixed 
 by mutual agreement. A pension for life 
 after the conclusion of the engagement. 
 Address and references to be left at the 
 railroad station at , on the Rhine.' " 
 
 "I know about this advertisement, and 
 even had a hand in writing it. I must con- 
 fess that we hit upon something rather un- 
 usual in the choice of the expression * high- 
 breeding.' " 
 
 " Is a man of rank to be understood ? " 
 
 "Certainly. I have no need of defend- 
 ing myself against the charge of what the 
 newspaper liacks call feudalism. In this 
 case the point insisted on is, that a tutor in 
 a middle-class family, and especially for a 
 self-willed boy, must be a man of unim- 
 •peachable position." 
 
 " Certainly, that is all right and proper. 
 Perhaps, although I'm not a Baron, I have 
 an unimpeachable position. I received the 
 title of doctor a few days ago." 
 
 Pra/iken gave him a condescending nod 
 of congratulation, then added quickly, — 
 "And do you leave entirely out of sight 
 that you quit the army with the rank of 
 Captain ? I should lay special stress on 
 the military training. But no, you are not 
 fit for a bear-trainer ! The boy is as un- 
 tameable and crafty as an American red- 
 skin, and he knows just where to lay hold 
 upon the scalp-lock in every character, as 
 he has already proved on half a dozen tu- 
 tors." " That would only give an addition- 
 al charm to the attempt." " And do you 
 know that Massa Sonnenkamp is a million- 
 aire, and the heir knows it ? " 
 
 " That doesn't alarm me, but rather tempts 
 me on." "Well; I will take you myself 
 to the mysterious man. I have the good 
 luck to stand high in his favor. But no. 
 Still better, you shall go with me first to 
 
VHE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 9 
 
 my brother-in-law's estate. You must re- 
 member my sister Bella." " Perfectly, and 
 I accept your hospitality. But I would 
 rather you should announce my visit to 
 Herr Sonnenkamp — it seems to me I have 
 heard that name before, but no matter — 
 and let me go to him alone." Pranken 
 threw a questioning glance upon Eric, who 
 continued: "I know how to appreciate 
 your ready friendliness ; but a stranger can 
 never quite do himself justice in presence 
 of a third person." 
 
 Pranken smiled at Eric's quickness, feel- 
 ing a sort of pride in having so cultivated 
 a man under his patronage. He took out 
 his pocket-book, and sat for a while with his 
 silver pencil-case pressed against his lips ; 
 the doubt arose whether he were doing 
 wisely to recommend Eric to the position ; 
 would it not be better to put him off, and 
 bring forward a man who would be quite 
 under his own influence ? but as Eric would 
 
 make the application for himself, and would, 
 most probably, receive the appointment, it 
 would be better to establish a claim to his 
 gratitude. And in the midst of his hesita- 
 tion a certain kindly feeling made itself felt ; 
 it was pleasant to be able to be a benefac- 
 tor, and he was for a moment happy in the 
 thought. 
 
 He wrote directly on a card to Herr Son- 
 nenkamp, begging him to make no engage- 
 ment, as a highly educated gentleman, 
 formerly an artillery officer, was about 
 to apply in person for the situation. He 
 carefully avoided speaking as a personal 
 friend of the applicant, as he wished to take 
 no decided step without his sister's ap- 
 proval. 
 
 The card was sent off immediately, and 
 Pranken played for some minutes with the 
 india-rubber strap of his pocket-book, be- 
 fore putting it back into his pocket. 
 
10 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 COMRADES WITHOUT COMRADESHIP. 
 
 Seated in an open carriage, the two 
 young men were soon winding along a road 
 which led up the mountain. The air was 
 full of dewy freshness, and high above the 
 vineyards the nightingales in the leafy 
 woods poured forth a constant flood of 
 melody. The two men sat silent. Each 
 knew that the other had come within the 
 circle of his destiny, but could not antici- 
 pate what would be the consequence. 
 
 Eric took off his hat, and as Pranken 
 looked at his handsome face with its com- 
 manding, sell-reliant expression, it seemed 
 to him that he had never really seen it be- 
 fore ; a thrill of alarm passed through him, 
 as he began to realize that he was forming j 
 ties whose results could not be foreseen. 
 His face now darkened wiih anger and 
 s'corn, now brightened with benevolence 
 and good-humored smiles ; he murmured to 
 himself some unintelligible words, and ' 
 burst forth at intervals into an inexplicable 
 fit of laughter. 
 
 " It is truly astonishing, most astonish-' 
 ing ! " he said to himself. " I could hardly < 
 have believed it of you, my good Otto, that 
 you could be so generous and self-forgetful, j 
 so wholly and completely a friend. People 
 have always told you, and you have had 
 the conceit yourself, that through all your j 
 whims you were better than you would own 
 to yourself. Shame on you, that you I 
 would not recognize your innocence and 
 virtue ! Here you are showing yourself a 
 friend, a brother, a most noble minister of I 
 destiny to another, who is a bit of human- 
 ity, nothing but pure humanity, in a full 
 beard. All his thoughts are elevated and 
 manly, but a good salary pleases even his 
 noble manliness. " 
 
 Pranken laid his head back on the cush- 
 ions of the carriage, and looked smiling up 
 to the sky. He resolved to take good care 
 that this specimen of noble manhood, who 
 was sitting by him in the carriage, should 
 not thwart his plans, and that what he could 
 not bring about himself, his sister Bella 
 Should accomplish. Pranken's whole bear- 
 ing was forced and unnatural. His uni- 
 form, worn ever since childhood, had given 
 him not only a feeling of exclusiveness, but 
 also a definite, undisputed, and exceptional 
 position, which separated him from the or- 
 dinary mass of men. Among his fellow- 
 soldiers ho was lively, and high-spirited ; 
 not specially remarkable for anything, but 
 a good officer, knowing how to take care 
 of and to drill his horses and his men. 
 Now that he had laid aside his uniform, he 
 
 felt in citizen's dress as if he were falling to 
 pieces ; but he held himself all the more 
 proudly erect, in order to show by every 
 movement that he did not belong to the 
 common herd. In the regiment there were 
 always strict rules to be followed ; now he 
 was under the command of duty and weari- 
 some free-will. Left to himself, he became 
 painfully aware that he was nothing without 
 his comrades. Life appeared bare and 
 dreary, and he had worked himself into a 
 bitter and satirical mood, which gave him 
 in his own eyes, a certain superiority to that 
 blank, monotonous existence, without pa- 
 rade, or play, or ballet. He looked with a 
 sort of envy at Eric, who, poorer and 
 without advantages of social position, gazed 
 around him so serenely and composedly, 
 feasting on the beauty of the landscape. 
 Eric was certainly the better off. Having 
 become a soldier at a more mature age, he 
 had never lost his own individuality in the 
 ' esprit de corps 1 of army life ; and now 
 that he was a civilian again, his whole ap- 
 pearance changed, and his nature developed 
 itself under a new and interesting aspect. 
 
 "I envy you," said Pranken, after they 
 had driven for sometime in silence. 
 
 ' ' You envy me ? " 
 
 "Yes! at first it vexed me and roused 
 my pity, that a man like you should enter 
 the service of a private individual, and in 
 such a position ! But perhaps it is fortu- 
 nate for a man to be obliged to determine 
 on some career in order to make a living. 11 
 
 " Just for that reason, 11 replied Eric, " will 
 the task of educating the young million- 
 aire be a hard one. Two things only ex- 
 cite the powers of men to activity : an idea, 
 and worldly gain. 11 
 
 " I don't quite understand you. 11 
 
 " Let me make my meaning clearer. He 
 who uses his power for the sake of an idea 
 enters the region of genius, however small 
 and inconspicuous may be the sphere of his 
 activity. He who works for the sake of 
 profit, to supply the necessities, or the lux- 
 uries of life, is nothing but a common la- 
 borer. The common need is the compel- 
 ling power which plants the vine on the 
 steep mountain side, clears the forest, 
 steers the ship, and drives the plough. 
 Where this common need unites itself with 
 the ideal, and this may be in every sphere 
 of life, there is noble human activity. A 
 nobleman, who busies himself in the world, 
 has the good fortune to be the inheritor of 
 an idea, — the idea of honor. 11 
 
 Pranken nodded approvingly, but with a 
 slightly scornful expression, as much as to 
 say, "This man to have the audacity to 
 seek justification for the nobility ! Nobility 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 11 
 
 and faith need not be proved; they are 
 facts of history not to be questioned !" 
 
 Again they were silent, and each asked 
 himself what was to come of this unex- 
 pected blending of their paths in life. As 
 fellow-soldiers they had been only remotely 
 connected ; it might be very different for the 
 future. 
 
 The valleys already lay in shadow, 
 though the sun shone brightly on the 
 mountain-tops. They drove through a vil- 
 lage where all was in joyous and tumultuous 
 movement, — in the streets, maidens walk- 
 ing arm in arm ; young men standing sing- 
 ly or in groups, exchanging merry greet- 
 ings and jokes and laughing jests ; the 
 old people sitting at the doors ; the fountain 
 splashing, and along the high-road by the 
 river, gay voices singing together. 
 
 "O how full of refreshment is our Ger- 
 man life ! " cried Eric ; " the active, indus- 
 trious people enjoy themselves in the even- 
 ing, which brings coolness and shade to 
 the treeless vineyards. 1 ' 
 
 They continued their journey in silence, 
 when suddenly Pranken started convulsive- 
 ly, for there came before him, as if in a 
 dream, a vision of himself, pistol in hand, 
 confronting in a duel the man now seated 
 by his side. "Whence came the vision? 
 He could not tell. And yet, was it meant 
 to be a prophetic warning ? 
 
 He forced himself to talk. A prominent 
 trait of his character, which belonged to 
 him by natare and education was a social 
 disposition, a desire to please all with 
 whom he came in contact. To drive away 
 the vision, and in obedience to this social 
 impulse, he began to tell Eric where he 
 had been. By the advice of his brother-in- 
 law, Count Clodwig von Wolfsgarten, he 
 had just paid a visit to a much respected 
 landed proprietor in the neighborhood, in 
 order to enter upon a course of instruction, 
 if the arrangement should prove mutually 
 agreeable. 
 
 The land-holder Weidmann, — who was 
 often called the March-minister, because 
 as a pioneer to help stem the revolutionary 
 current in 1848 *he was made minister for 
 three days, — was considered, in all the 
 surrounding region, as an authority upon 
 agricultural as well as political matters. 
 
 Pranken talked on, and the more he talked 
 the more he enjoyed his own witty sallies ; 
 and the more he indulged in them, the 
 more pungent they became. He began : 
 " I should like to know how this man will 
 strike you; he has, like" — here he hesi- 
 tated a little, birt quickly added — " like all 
 great reformers, a vast train of fine dog- 
 
 mas, enough to supply a whole Capuchin 
 monastery." 
 
 Eric laughed, and Pranken, laughing al- 
 so, continued: "Ah! the world is made 
 up of nothing but humbug ! The much- 
 talked-of poetry of a landed proprietor's 
 life is nothing but a constant desire for 
 lucre, tricked out with paint from the glow 
 of the morning and evening sky. This 
 Herr Weidmann and his sons think of 
 nothing but the everlasting dollar. He 
 has six sons, five of whom I know, and all 
 look impertinently well, with pretentiously 
 white, faultless teeth, and full beards. 
 These mountains, which travellers admire, 
 are compelled to yield them wine from the 
 surface, and slate, manganese, ore, and 
 chemicals from the mines beneath. They 
 have five different factories ; one son is a 
 miner, another a machinist, a third a chem- 
 ist, and so they work into each others' 
 hands and for their common interest. I 
 have been told that they extract forty dif- 
 ferent substances from beechwood, and 
 then send the exhausted residuum as char- 
 coal to the Paris restaurants. Isn't that a 
 pretty love of nature ? Then, as to Father 
 Wiedmann, — you enjoy the song of the 
 nightingales, I know. Well, Father Weid- 
 mann obtained from the government an 
 edict of protection for them, because they 
 eat insects and are very useful to the fields 
 and woods. Father Weidmann lives in a 
 restored castle, but if a minstrel came there 
 to-day he would get no hearing, unless he 
 sang the noble love by which Nitrogen and 
 Hydrogen are bound to Ammonia. I am 
 almost crazed with super-phosphates and 
 alkalies. Do you think, it is a destiny worth 
 striving after, to be able to increase the food 
 of mankind by a few sacks of potatoes ? " 
 
 Before Eric could answer, Pranken ad- 
 ded: " Ah, there is just nothing that one 
 would like to turn to. The army is the 
 one profession." 
 
 As they were ascending a steep hill over- 
 looking the river with its islands, Pranken, 
 pointing up the stream to a white house up- 
 on the bank, said, " Yonder is the Sonnen- 
 kamp villa, which bears the name of Eden. 
 That great glass dome on which the even- 
 ing sun is shining is the palm-house. Herr 
 Sonnenkamp is an enthusiastic gardener ; 
 his conservatories and hot-houses excel 
 those of princes." 
 
 Eric, standing upright in the carriage, 
 looked back upon the landscape, and the 
 house where was to be, probably, the turn- 
 ing-point of his life. As he sat down 
 Pranken offered him a cigar. Eric de- 
 clined, for he had given up smoking. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 12 
 
 ** He who does not smoke will not do for 
 Herr Sonnenkamp ; 11 and he emphasized 
 the word Herr. " Next to his plants, he 
 prides himself upon his great variety of 
 genuine cigars ; and he was specially grate- 
 ful to me, when I once said to him that he 
 possessed a seraglio of cigars. I don't 
 know how he who refuses a cigar can get 
 along with him." 
 
 "I can smoke, but I am no slave to the 
 habit," replied Eric, taking the cigar. 
 
 " You seem to me not only a Doctor of 
 Philosophy," said Pranken, " but also a real 
 philosopher. 11 
 
 The two travellers drove on in silence. 
 Eric looked down, his mind occupied with 
 many and various thoughts. 
 
 O wonderful world ! Invincible poten- 
 cies hover in the air ; a human soul is jour- 
 neying there and does not imagine that 
 another is pressing towards him, and that 
 they both have one destiny. This is the 
 greatness of the human spirit, that there is 
 a preparation for taking up into itself, as if 
 they had one life, some person whose name is 
 not even known, whose countenance has not 
 been seen, and of whose existence there has 
 been no anticipation. He who has not lived for 
 himself alone, he who has dreamed, thought, 
 labored, striven for the common good, he 
 is ready, each hour, to enter into the uni- 
 versal life, and utters the creative word, Be 
 soul of my soul, and speaks the word of 
 salvation, " Thou art thy brother's keeper." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE OLD NOBLEMAN AND HIS BEAUTIFUL 
 WIFE. 
 
 "To Wolfsgarten," was the direction 
 upon the guide-board at the edge of the 
 well-kept forest where they were now driv- 
 ing, on the grounds and territory of the 
 nobleman. Every stranger who asks the 
 way, and makes inquiry concerning the 
 large, plain mansion with steep gables be- 
 yond, receives the reply that two happy 
 people live there, who have every blessing 
 except that of children. 
 
 There are those who give satisfaction to 
 the soul. Where two sit and talk about them, 
 each feels gratified in being able to per- 
 ceive and exhibit the pure and beautiful, 
 and is grateful to the other for each new 
 insight ; but, strangely enough, people soon 
 tire of talking about the purely beautiful. 
 On the other hand, there are those who 
 furnish an inexhaustible supply of material 
 for conversation which dwells chiefly upon 
 the unlovely features, whilst the attractive 
 are mingled in and brought to the surface 
 with great effort ; at the close the speaker 
 
 feels obliged to add, "But lam no hypo- 
 crite when I meet this person in a friendly 
 way, for while there is much to condemn, 
 there is also a great deal that is good." 
 Clodwig was a character of the former, and 
 his wife Bella, born Baroness von Pranken, 
 of the latter sort. 
 
 Clodwig was a nobleman in the best 
 sense of the word. He was not one of your 
 affable people, on the same terms with 
 every one. He had a gentlemanly reserve 
 and repose. The independent proprietor, 
 the manufacturer as well as the priest, the 
 day-laborer, the official, and the city-mer- 
 chant, each believed that he was particu- 
 larly esteemed and beloved ; and all con- 
 sidered him an ornament of the landscape, 
 like some great tree upon the mountain-top, 
 whose shade and whose majestic height 
 were a joy, and a shelter from every storm. 
 
 The counsel and help of Clodwig von 
 Wolfsgarten could be counted upon confi- 
 dently in all exigencies. He had been 
 abroad for a long period, and only since his 
 second marriage, five years since, had he 
 resided at his country-seat. Bella von 
 Wolfsgarten was much more admired than 
 beloved. She was beautiful, many said too 
 beautiful for the old gentleman. She was 
 more talkative than her husband ; and when 
 she drove out in a pony-carriage drawn by 
 a span of dappled greys through the country 
 and villages, herself holding the reins, 
 while her husband sat by her side and the 
 footman upon the back seat, • everybody 
 bowed and stared. Many old people, who 
 always find some special reason for any 
 new fashion, were inclined to see in this 
 fact of Bella's holding the reins a proof 
 that she had the rule. But this was not so, 
 by any means. She was humble and en- 
 tirely submissive to her husband. It was 
 often displeasing to him that she so exces- 
 sively praised, even in his presence, his 
 goodness, his even disposition, and his 
 noble views of life and the world. 
 
 Eric had only a dim recollection of the 
 commotion excited in the capital by Bella's 
 marriage, for it happened about the time 
 that he resigned his commission. He had 
 frequently seen Bella, but never the count. 
 The count had been for many years am- 
 bassador from the small principality to the 
 papal court, and there Eric's father had be- 
 come acquainted with him. 
 
 Clodwig was known in the scientific 
 world through a small archaeological treat- 
 ise with very expensive designs ; for next 
 to music, which he pursued with ardor, he 
 was devoted to the science of antiquity with 
 all that earnest fidelity which was a charac- 
 teristic of his whole being. It was said in 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 IB 
 
 his praise, that there was no science and no 
 art to which he did not give his fostering 
 care. Returning from Rome to his native 
 land, childless and a widower, he became 
 an esteemed member of the assembly of the 
 nobility favoring what is called moderate 
 progress ; and during the session, he asso- 
 ciated much with the old Herr von Pran- 
 ken, who was also a member. He soon 
 became interested in Bella von Pranken, 
 a woman of imposing manners, and a brill- 
 iant performer upon the piano. Bella was 
 now, if one may be so ungallant as to say 
 so, somewhat passee ; but in her bloom she 
 had been the beauty of that court circle, 
 where a younger generation now flourished, 
 to which she did not belong. 
 
 Bella had travelled over a good part of 
 the world. In the company of two Eng- 
 lishwomen she had visited Italy, Greece, 
 and Egypt. She had hired an experienced 
 courier, who relieved her from all care. 
 On her return to the court where her fa- 
 ther was grand-equerry, she mingled in so- 
 ciety with that indifferent air which passes 
 itself off as a higher nature brought into 
 contact with the common-places of daily 
 life. She conversed much with Clodwig von 
 Wolfsgarten, who supposed that the insig- 
 nificant trifles of social life were considered 
 by her as unworthy of notice, and she 
 gained the credit with him of possessing a 
 refined nature occupied only wifch higher 
 interests. She constantly and actively par- 
 ticipated in Clodwig's fondness for archaeo- 
 logical pursuits. It was a matter of course 
 that they should find themselves in each 
 other's society, and if the one or the other 
 was not present, Bella or Clodwig was 
 asked if the absent one was sick, or had an 
 engagement. Bella had no porcelain fig- 
 ures and nick-nacks of that kind upon her 
 table, but only choice copies from the an- 
 tique ; and she wore a large amber chain 
 taken from the tomb of some noble Roman 
 lady. She possessed a large photographic 
 album, containing views of her journey, 
 and was happy to look over them again 
 and again with Clodwig, and to receive in- 
 struction from him. She also played fre- 
 quently for him, although no longer exhib- 
 iting her musical talent in society. 
 
 The entire circle for once did something 
 novel: they carried from Bella to Clodwig, 
 and from him to Bella, the enthusiastic 
 speeches of the one about the other; and 
 even personages of the highest rank took 
 part in furthering their intimacy. This be- 
 came necessary f rom the timidity they both 
 experienced, when they became conscious 
 of the possibility of a different relation be- 
 tween them. Meanwhile success crowned 
 
 the attempt, and the betrothal was cele- 
 brated in the most select circle of the court. 
 
 Mischievous tongues now repeated — for 
 it was but fair that there should be some 
 compensation for the previous excessive 
 good-nature that two interesting points 
 of discussion had arisen. Bella, they said, 
 had made it a condition of the betrothal, 
 that he should never speak of his deceased 
 wife, and the old Pranken had asked of the 
 physician how long the count might be ex- 
 pected to live. He must have smiled in a 
 peculiar way when the physician assured 
 him that such old gentlemen, who live so 
 regularly, quietly, and without passion, 
 might count upon an indefinite number of 
 years. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the conduct of Bella 
 gave the lie to the malicious report that she 
 hoped soon to be a rich young widow. 
 Clodwig had had an attack of vertigo shortly 
 before the wedding ; and always after that 
 Bella contrived that he should be, without 
 his knowledge, attended by a servant. 
 She devoted herself with the most affection- 
 ate care to the old gentleman, who now 
 seemed to enjoy a new life, and to gain 
 fresh vigor on returning to his paternal es- 
 tate. At the baths, where they went every 
 summer, Clodwig and Bella were highly 
 esteemed personages. She was admired 
 not only for her beauty, but also for her 
 stainless fidelity, and for her solicitous at- 
 tention to her aged husband. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE RECEPTION DAY. 
 
 It was yet bright daylight here upon 
 the mountain-height, when they approached 
 the Wolfsgarten mansion. As they were 
 making the last ascent through the park, a 
 beautiful girl in a figured blue summer-suit 
 stood in the path between the green trees. 
 Getting sight of the carriage, she quickly 
 turned back again. Two light-blue ribbons, 
 tied behind, according to the fashion, floated 
 in the evening wind. Her step was firm 
 and yet graceful. 
 
 "Ah, 11 said Pranken, " to-day we have 
 hit upon my sisters collation-day. That 
 pretty girl who turned about so quickly is 
 the daughter of the Justice, freshly baked 
 out of the oven of the convent of the ' Sa- 
 cred Heart 1 at Aix. You will find her a 
 genuine child of the Rhine, and my sister 
 has given her the appropriate name Musse- 
 lina ; there is in her something of perpetual 
 summer. Through this warm-hearted child 
 we are now already announced to the com- 
 pany. 11 
 
14 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 While he was arranging his hair with his 
 pocket-comb, he continued, — 
 
 " The family is very respectable and 
 highly esteemed ; the little one is too good 
 to be trifled with ; one must have an infe- 
 rior kind to smoke in the open air." 
 
 Pranken suddenly became aware whom 
 he was talking to, and immediately added, 
 
 — " So would our comrade, Don John Nip- 
 per, who was everlastingly betting, express 
 himself. Do you know that the wild fellow 
 has now an affection of the spine, and is 
 wheeled about at Wiesbaden in a chair ? n 
 
 Pranken's whole manner changed ; and 
 springing with joyful elasticity out of the 
 carriage, he reached out his hand to Eric, 
 saying, ' 1 Welcome to Wolfsgarten ! " Many 
 carriages were standing in the court-yard, 
 and in the garden they found the ladies, 
 who with fans and parasols sat upon hand- 
 some chairs around a bed of luxuriantly- 
 growing forget-me-nots, in the centre of 
 which was a red rhododendron in full 
 bloom. 
 
 " We are no peace-breakers ; don't let us 
 disturb you, good ladies," cried out Pranken 
 from a distance, in a jesting tone. Bella 
 greeted her brother, and then Eric, whom 
 she recognised at once. The wife of the 
 Justice and Fraulein Lina were very happy to 
 renew the acquaintance of yesterday ; then 
 were introduced the district physician's wife 
 and sister, the head-forester's wife and her 
 mother, the apothecary's wife, the burgo- 
 master's wife, the school-director's wife, 
 and the wives of the two manufacturers. 
 In fact, all the notabilities of the place 
 seemed to have assembled. The gentlemen 
 had gone, it was said, to view some pros- 
 pect not very far off, and would soon be 
 back. 
 
 The conversation was not very lively, 
 and Eric's appearance awakened interest. 
 The director's wife, a large striking figure 
 
 — Bella called her the lay figure, for she 
 knew how to dress well, and everything be- 
 came her ^-raised her opera-glass and 
 looked round upon the landscape, but took 
 advantage of this survey to get a nearer 
 look at Eric's face. The manner in which 
 she then" balanced the glass in her hand 
 seemed to say that she was not altogether 
 displeased with the view. 
 
 After the first question, how long it was 
 since Eric had seen the Rhine, and after he 
 had informed them how everything had ap- 
 peared under a new aspect, and had affected 
 him almost to intoxication, he said it was 
 very pleasant to see the young ladies wear- 
 ing wreaths of fresh flowers and leaves upon 
 their heads. To this he added the remark, 
 that though it was natural and fitting for 
 
 ladies to wear wreaths on their heads, it was 
 very comical when men, even on some ru- 
 ral excursion, allowed the black cylinder 
 hat to be ornamented with a wreath by some 
 fair hand. 
 
 Insignificant as was the observation, the 
 tone in which Eric uttered it gave pecu- 
 liar pleasure, and the whole circle smiled 
 in a friendly manner ; they at once felt that 
 here was a person of original and suggest- 
 ive ideas. 
 
 Bella knew how to bring out a guest in 
 conversation. "Did not the Greeks and 
 Romans, Captain," she asked, "wear badges 
 of distinction upon the head, while we, who 
 plume ourselves so much about our hearts, 
 wear ours upon the breast ? " Then she 
 spoke of an ancient wreath of victory she 
 had seen at Rome, and asked Eric whether 
 there were different classes of wreaths. 
 Without intending it Eric described the va- 
 rious kinds of crowns given to victory, and 
 it excited much merriment when he spoke 
 of the wreath made of grass, which a gene- 
 ral received who had relieved a besieged 
 city. 
 
 The girls, who stood in groups at one 
 side, made a pretence of calling out to a 
 handsome boy playing at the fountain be- 
 low, and sprang down the little hill with 
 flying garments. On reaching the fountain, 
 they troubled themselves no further about 
 the little boy they had called to, but talked 
 with one another about the stranger, and 
 how interesting he was. 
 
 "He is handsomer than the architect," 
 said the apothecary's daughter. 
 
 " And he is even handsomer than Herr 
 von Pranken," added Hildegard, the school- 
 director's daughter. 
 
 Lina enjoyed the enviable advantage of 
 being able to relate that she had met him 
 yesterday at the island convent ; her father 
 had rightly guessed that he was of French 
 descent, for his father had belonged to the 
 immigrating Huguenots, as his name indi- 
 cated. The apothecary's daughter, who 
 plumed herself highly upon her brother's 
 being a lieutenant, promised to obtain from 
 him more definite information about the 
 captain. 
 
 In her free way, Lina proposed that they 
 should weave a garland and place it unex- 
 pectedly on the bare head of the stranger. 
 The wreath was speedily got ready, but no 
 one of the girls, not even Lina, ventured to 
 complete the strange proposal. 
 
 Meanwhile Eric was sitting amidst the 
 circle of ladies, and he expressed his sin- 
 cere envy of those persons who live among 
 such beautiful natural scenery ; they might 
 not always be conscious of it, but it had a 
 
THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 15 
 
 bracing influence upon the spirit, and there 
 was a keen sense of loss when removed into 
 less interesting scenes. No one ventured 
 to make any reply, until Bella remarked, — 
 " Praise of the landscape in which we live 
 is a sort of flattery to us, as if we ourselves, 
 our dress, our house, or anything belonging 
 to us, should be praised." 
 
 All assented, although it was not evident 
 whether Bella had expressed approval or 
 disapproval. Then she asked Eric con- 
 cerning his mother, and as if incidentally, 
 but not without emphasis, alluded to the 
 sudden death of her brother, Baron von 
 Burgholz. Those present knew now that 
 Eric was of partially noble descent. Bella 
 spoke so easily that speaking seemed a 
 wholly secondary matter to her, while seeing 
 and being seen were the things of real im- 
 portance. She hardly moved a feature in 
 speaking, scarcely even the lips, and only 
 in smiling exhibited a full row of small 
 white teeth. 
 
 Bella knew that Eric was looking at her 
 attentively while he spoke, and composedly 
 as if she stood before a mirror, she offered 
 her face to his gaze. She then introduced 
 Eric, in the most friendly way, to the 
 agreeable head-forester's wife, a fine singer, 
 asking at the same time if he still kept up 
 his singing ; he replied that he had been 
 for some years out of practice. 
 
 The evening was unusually sultry, and 
 the air was close and hot over mountain 
 and valley. 
 
 A thunder storm was coming up in the 
 distance. They discussed whether they 
 should wait for the storm at Wolfsgarten 
 or return home immediately. " If the gen- 
 tlemen were only here to decide." The 
 pleasant forester's lady confessed that she 
 was afraid of a thunder storm. 
 
 " Then you and your sister are in sym- 
 pathy," said Eric. 
 
 " O," said the sister, "I am not at all 
 afraid." 
 
 " Excuse me; I did not mean you, but 
 the beautiful songstress dwelling here in 
 the thicket. Do you not notice that Mrs. 
 Nightingale, who sang so spiritedly a few 
 moments since, is now suddenly dumb ? " 
 All were very merry over this remark, and 
 now each told what she did with herself 
 during a thunder storm. 
 
 " I think," said Eric, " that we can find 
 out not so much the character, as the vege- 
 tative life of the brain, the nervous temper- 
 ament, as it is called, by observing the 
 effect which a thunder storm has upon us. 
 We are so far removed from the life of 
 nature, that when changes take place in the 
 atmosphere that can be heard and seen, we 
 
 are taken by surprise, as if a voice should 
 suddenly call to us out of the still air, 
 ' Attend ! thou art walking and breathing 
 in a world full of mystery ! ' " 
 
 " Ah, here come the gentlemen ! " it was 
 suddenly called out. Two handsome point- 
 ers springing into the garden went round 
 and round Pranken's dog, who had been 
 abroad, smelling at him inquiringly, as if 
 they would get out of him the results of his 
 experience. The men came immediately 
 after the dogs. 
 
 Eric immediately recognised Count Clod- 
 wig, before his name was mentioned. His 
 fine, well-preserved person, the constant 
 friendliness of expression on his smoothly 
 shaven, elderly face, as yet unwriukled, — 
 this could be no other than the Count 
 Clodwig von Wolfsgarten ; all the rest had 
 grouped themselves around him as a centre, 
 and exhibited a sort of deference, as if he 
 were the prince of the land. He possessed 
 two peculiar characteristics seldom found 
 together : he attracted love, and at the 
 same time commanded homage ; and al- 
 though he never exhibited any aristocratic 
 haughtiness, and treated each one in a 
 friendly and kindly manner, it seemed only 
 a matter of course for him to take the lead. 
 
 When Eric was introduced to him, hi* 
 countenance immediately lighted up, every 
 feature beaming with happy thoughts . ' ' You 
 are welcome ; as the son of my Roman friend 
 you have inherited my friendship," he said, 
 pressing more closely with his left hand the 
 spectacles over his eyes. 
 
 His manner of speaking was so moderate 
 and agreeable that he seemed to be no 
 stranger ; while there was in the accent 
 something so calm and measured, that any 
 striking novelty was received from him as 
 something for which you were unconsciously 
 prepared. He had always the same de- 
 meanor, a steady composure, and a certain 
 deliberateness, never making haste, having 
 always time enough, and preserving a 
 straight-forward uprightness befitting an 
 old man. When Eric expressed the happi- 
 ness it gave him to inherit the count's 
 friendship towards his father, and that of 
 the countess towards his mother, a still 
 warmer friendliness beamed from Clodwig's 
 countenance. 
 
 " You have exactly your father's voice," 
 he said. " It was a hard stroke to me 
 when I heard of his death, for I had thought 
 of writing to him for several years, but de- 
 layed until it was too late." 
 
 When Eric was introduced now by Clod- 
 wig to the rest of the gentlemen, it seemed 
 as if this man invested him with his own 
 dignity. "Here I make you acquainted 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 16 
 
 with a good comrade," said Clodwig, with 
 a significant smile, whilst he introduced him 
 to an old gentleman, having a broad red 
 face, and snow-white hair trimmed very- 
 close. " This is our major — Major Gras- 
 sier." 
 
 The major nodded pleasantly, extending 
 to Eric a hand to which the forefinger was 
 wanting ; but the old man could still press 
 strongly the stranger's hand. He nodded 
 again, but said nothing. 
 
 The other gentlemen were also intro- 
 duced by the count ; one of these, a hand- 
 some young man, with a dark-brown face 
 and fine beard and moustache, the architect 
 Erhardt, took his leave directly, as he had 
 an appointment at the limestone quarry. 
 The school-director informed Eric that he 
 had been also a pupil of Professor Einsiedel. 
 
 The major was called out of the men's 
 circle by the ladies ; they took him to task, 
 the wife of the Justice leading off, for having 
 left them and gone off with the gentlemen, 
 while always before he had been very atten- 
 tive to the ladies, and their faithful knight. 
 Now he was to make amends. 
 
 The major had just seated himself when 
 the girls placed upon his white head the 
 crown intended for Eric. He nodded mer- 
 rily, and desired that a mirror should be 
 brought, to see how he looked. He pointed 
 the forefinger of his left hand to Lina, and 
 asked her if that was one of the things she 
 learned at the convent. 
 
 It soon became evident that the major 
 was the target for shafts of wit, a position 
 which some one in every society voluntarily 
 must assume or submit to perforce. The 
 major conferred upon his acquaintance more 
 pleasure than he was aware of, for every one 
 smiled in a friendly way when he was 
 thought of or spoken about. 
 
 A gust of wind came down over the 
 plain ; the flag upon the mansion was low- 
 ered ; the upholstered chairs were speedily 
 put under the covering of the piazza ; and 
 all had a feeling of comfort, as they sat 
 sociably together in the well-lighted draw- 
 ing-room, while the storm raged outside. 
 
 For some time no other subject could be 
 talked about than the storm. The major 
 told of a slight skirmish in which he had 
 been engaged in the midst of the most 
 fearful thunder and lightning ; he expressed 
 himself clumsily, but they understood his 
 meaning, how horrible it was for them to 
 be murdering each other, while the heavens 
 were speaking. The Justice told of a young 
 fellow who was about to take a false oath, 
 and had just raised up his hand, when a 
 sudden thunder-clap caused him to drop it, 
 crying out, "I am guilty." The forester 
 
 added laughing, that a thunder storm was 
 a very nice thing, as the wild game after- 
 wards was very abundant. The school- 
 director gave an exceedingly graphic de- 
 scription of the difficulty of keeping children 
 in the school-room occupied, as one could 
 not continue the ordinary instruction, and 
 yet one did not know what should be done 
 with them. 
 
 All eyes were turned upon Eric as if to 
 inquire what he had to say, and he re- 
 marked in an easy tone, — "What here 
 possesses the soul as a raging storm is 
 down there, on the lower Rhine, and above 
 there, in Alsace, a distant heat lightning 
 which cools off the excessive heat of the 
 daytime. People sit there enjoying them- 
 selves in gardens and balconies, breathing 
 in the pure air in quiet contemplation. I 
 might say that there are geographical bound- 
 aries and distinct zones of feeling." 
 
 Drawing out this idea at length, he was 
 able to make them wholly forget the pres- 
 ent. The forester's wife, who had been 
 sitting in the dark in the adjoining room 
 with her hand over her eyes, came into the 
 drawing-room at these words of Eric, which 
 she must have heard, and seemed relieved 
 of all fear. 
 
 Eric spoke for a long time. Though his 
 varied experience might have taught him a 
 different lesson, he still believed that people 
 always wished to get something in conver- 
 sation, to gain clearer ideas, and not merely 
 to while away the time. Hence, when he 
 conversed, he gave out his whole soul, the 
 very best he had, and did not fear that be- 
 hind his back they would call his animated 
 utterances- pertness and vanity. He had a 
 talent for society ; even more than that, for 
 he placed himself in t he position of him whom 
 he addressed, and this one soon felt that 
 Eric saw farther than he himself did, and 
 that he spoke not out of presumption, but 
 out of benevolence. 
 
 There is something really imposing in a 
 man who clearly and fluently expresses his 
 ideas to other people ; their own thought is 
 brought to light, and they are thankful for 
 the boon. But most persons are imposed 
 upon by the " Sir Oracle" who gives them 
 to understand, "I am speaking of things 
 which you do not and cannot comprehend ; " 
 and the Sir Oracles carry so much the 
 greater weight of influence. 
 
 The men, and more particularly the Jus- 
 tice and the school-director, shrugged their 
 shoulders. Eric's enthusiasm and his un- 
 reserved unfolding of his own interior life 
 had in it something odd, even wounding to 
 some of the men. They felt that this strange 
 manner, this extraordinary revelation of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 17 
 
 character, this pouring out of one's best, 
 was attractive to the ladies, and that they, 
 getting in a word incidentally and without 
 being able to complete a thought, or round 
 off a period, were wholly cast into the 
 shade. The Justice, observing the beaming 
 eyes of his daughter and of the forester's 
 wife, whispered to the school-director, 
 " This is a dangerous person." 
 
 The company broke up into groups. 
 Eric stood with Clodwig in the bow- 
 window, and they looked out upon the 
 night. The lightning flashed over the 
 distant mountains, sometimes lighting up a 
 peak in the horizon, sometimes making a 
 rift in the sky, as if behind it were another 
 sky, while the thunder rolled, shaking the 
 ceiling and tinkling the pendent prisms of 
 the chandelier. 
 
 "There are circumstances and events 
 which occur and repeat themselves as if 
 they had already passed before us in a 
 dream," Clodwig began. "Just as I now 
 stand here with you, I stood with your 
 father in the Roman Campagna. I know 
 not how it chanced, but we spoke of that 
 view in which the things of the world are 
 regarded under the aspect of the infinite, 
 and then your father said, — methinks I 
 still hear his voice, — ' Only when we take 
 in the life of humanity as a whole do we 
 have, as thinkers, that rest which the be- 
 lievers receive from faith, for then the 
 world lives to us as to them, in the oneness 
 of God's thought. He who follows up only 
 the individual ant cannot comprehend its 
 zigzag track, or its fate as it suddenly falls 
 into the hole of the ant-lion, who must also 
 get a living. But he who regards the ant- 
 hill as a whole — ' " 
 
 Clodwig suddenly stopped. From the 
 valley they heard the shrill whistle of the 
 locomotive, and the hollow rumbling of the 
 train of cars. 
 
 11 But at that time," he continued after a 
 pause, and his face was lighted up by a sud- 
 den flash of lightning, " at that time no lo- 
 comotive's whistle broke in upon our quiet 
 meditation." 
 
 " And yet," said Eric, " I do not like to 
 regard this shrill tone as a discord." 
 
 " Go on, I am curious to hear why not." 
 
 "Is it not grand that human beings con- 
 tinue their ordinary pursuits in the midst 
 of nature's disturbances ? In our modern 
 age an unalterable system of movements is 
 seen to be continually operating upon our 
 
 earth. May it not be said that all our do- 
 ing is but a preparation of the way, a mak- 
 ing straight the path, so that the eternal 
 forces of nature may move in freedom? 
 The man of this new age has the railroad 
 to serve him." 
 
 ClodAvig grasped Eric's hand. Bright 
 flashes of lightning illumined the beaming 
 face of the young man and the serene coun- 
 tenance of the old count. Clodwig pressed 
 warmly Eric's hand, as if he would say, 
 "Welcome again! now art thou truly 
 mine." Love, suddenly taking possession 
 of two hearts, is said to make them one ; 
 and is it not also true of friendship ? 
 
 It was so here. The two confronted 
 each other, not with any foreboding, or ex- 
 citement of feeling, but with a clear and 
 firm recognition that each had found his 
 own choicest possession ; they felt that they 
 belonged to each other, and it was entirely 
 forgotten that they had looked into each 
 other's eyes for the first time only a few 
 moments before. They had become united 
 in the pure thought of the Eternal that has 
 no measure of time ; they may have stood 
 there speechless for a long time after un- 
 clasping their hands ; they were united, and 
 they were one without the need of word, 
 without external sign. 
 
 In a voice full of emotion, as if he had 
 a secret to reveal, which he could hardly 
 open his lips to utter, and yet which he 
 must not withhold, Clodwig said, — "In. 
 such storms I have often thought of that 
 former period when the whole land from 
 here to the Odenwald was a great lake, out 
 of which the mountain peaks towered as 
 islands, until the water forced for itself a 
 channel through the wall of rock. And 
 have you, my young friend, ever enter- 
 tained the thought that chaos may come 
 again ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed; but we cannot transport 
 ourselves into the pre-human or post-human 
 period. We can only fill out, according to 
 our strength, our allotted time of three score 
 years and ten." The major now came and 
 invited them to go into the inner saloon, 
 where the company had assembled. Clod- 
 wig again stroked softly Eric's hand, saying, 
 " Will you come?" Like two lovers who 
 have just given a secret kiss and an em- 
 brace, they rejoined the company. No one 
 suspected why their countenances were so 
 radiant. 
 
18 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 AN ILLUMINATING FLASH 
 
 After the crisis of a storm has passed, a 
 company of persons become very lively, and 
 have an additional feeling of home. They 
 had withdrawn into the inner music saloon, 
 whose vaulted ceiling, brilliantly lighted up, 
 had even a festive appearance. Half way 
 up the walls of the room four balconies pro- 
 jected, and in the centre was the grand pi- 
 ano. On one side was a circular seat, upon 
 an elevated platform, where Bella was sit- 
 ting with the happy Justice's wife on the 
 right, and the forester's wife on the left. 
 
 The young girls were promenading arm 
 in arm through the saloon, and Pranken, 
 full of his jokes, accompanied them ; he 
 carried in his hand a rose out of Lina's 
 wreath ; when Clodwig and Eric joined the 
 circle, with the major, the young people 
 came up to them. 
 
 Bella asked the major whether the work 
 upon the castle, which Herr Sonnenkamp 
 had begun to rebuild, was still continued. 
 The major nodded ; he always nodded sev- 
 eral times before he spoke, as if carefully 
 arranging beforehand what he should say. 
 
 He asserted very confidently that they 
 would find a spring in the castle court-yard. 
 Clodwig begged him to preserve carefully 
 every relic of the middle ages and the Ro- 
 man period, and promised soon to go him- 
 self, and superintend the excavations. The 
 head-forester jestingly observed, "Herr 
 Sonnenkamp," — everybody called him Herr, 
 but with a peculiar accent, as if they wished 
 no further acquaintance with him, — "Herr 
 Sonnenkamp will probably now give his 
 name to the restored castle." 
 
 When Herr Sonnenkamp's name was 
 mentioned, it seemed as if a dam had been 
 carried away, and the conversation rushed 
 in headlong from all quarters. 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp has a deal of under- 
 standing," said the school-director, " but 
 Moliere maliciously observes, that the rich 
 man's understanding is in his pocket." 
 
 The apothecary added, "Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp loves to represent himself as an incor- 
 rigible sinner, in the hope that nobody will 
 believe him ; but people do believe him." 
 
 Eric caught the names Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp, Frau Ceres, Manna, Roland, Frau 
 Perini ; it was like the chirping of birds in 
 the woods, all sounds mingled together, and 
 no one melody distinctly heard. The wife 
 of the Justice, with a significant glance to- 
 wards Pranken, said, "Men like the major 
 and Herr von Pranken can take up at once 
 such mysterious, interloping people from 
 abroad, but ladies must be more reserved." 
 
 Then she gave it to be understood that the 
 old established families could not be too 
 strict in receiving foreign intruders. 
 
 In a somewhat forced humor, Bella joked 
 about the long nails of Frau Ceres ; but her 
 lips trembled when Clodwig said very sharp- 
 ly, ' 1 Among the Indians long nails take the 
 place of family descent, and the one per- 
 haps is as good as the other." 
 
 All were amazed when Clodwig spoke so 
 disparagingly of the nobility. He seemed 
 displeased at the detracting remarks upon 
 the Sonnenkamp family ; he was above all 
 meanness, and everything small and invidi- 
 ous was as offensive to him as a disagree- 
 able odor. Turning to Eric, he said, — 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, the present subject of 
 the conversation, is the owner of many mil- 
 lions. To acquire such immense wealth is 
 an evidence of strength ; or, I should rather 
 say, to acquire great wealth shows great 
 vigor ; to keep it requires great wisdom ; 
 and to use it well is a virtue and an art." 
 
 He paused, and as no one spoke, he con- 
 tinued, — "Riches have a certain title to 
 respect ; riches, especially one's own acqui- 
 sition, are an evidence of activity and ser- 
 vice. Far easier does it appear to me to 
 be a prince, than to be a man of such ex- 
 cessive wealth. Such an accumulation of 
 power is apt to make men arbitrary ; a very 
 wealthy man lives in an atmosphere saturat- 
 ed, as it were, with the consciousness of 
 supreme power, and ceases to be an indi- 
 vidual personality, and the whole world as- 
 sumes to him the aspect of a price-current 
 list. Have you ever met such a man ? " 
 
 Before Eric could reply, Pranken roughly 
 broke in, " Captain Dournay wishes to be- 
 come the tutor of the young Sonnenkamp." 
 All eyes were directed towards Eric ; he 
 was regarded as if he had been suddenly 
 transformed, and clad in a beggar's gar- 
 ment. The men nodded to each other and 
 shrugged their shoulders ; a man engaging 
 in a private employment, and such an em- 
 ployment too, had lost all title to consider- 
 ation. The ladies looked at him compas- 
 sionately. Eric saw nothing of all this. 
 He did not know what Pranken meant by 
 this surprising revelation ; he felt that he 
 must make some reply, but knew not what 
 to say. 
 
 A painful pause followed Pranken's com- 
 munication. Clodwig had placed his hands 
 upon his lips, that had become very pale. 
 At last he said, " Such an appointment will 
 contribute to your honor, and to the honor 
 and good fortune of Herr Sonnenkamp." 
 
 Eric felt a broad hand laid upon his 
 shoulder, and on looking round he gazed 
 into the smiling countenance of the major, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 19 
 
 who, pointing several times with his left 
 hand to his heart, said at last, "The count 
 has expressed what I wished to say, but it 
 is better for him to have said it, and he has 
 done it much better than I could. Carry 
 out your purpose, comrade." 
 
 Pranken now came up, and said, in a very 
 affable tone, that it was he who had advised 
 and recommended Eric. Lina had opened 
 a window, and called out in a clear voice, 
 M The storm is over." 
 
 A fresh, fragrant air streaming into the 
 saloon gave relief to their constraint, and 
 every one breathed freely again. A gentle 
 rain still pattered down, but the nightingales 
 were again singing in the woods. They 
 now urged the foresters wife to sing. She 
 declined, but could not withstand the re- 
 quest of Bella, who very seldom played, 
 that she would sing to her accompaniment. 
 
 The foresters wife sang some songs with 
 so fresh and youthful a voice, so clear and 
 simple, that the hearts of all the hearers 
 were touched. Lina also was urged to sing. 
 She insisted that she could not to-day, but, 
 on receiving a reproving glance from her 
 mother, she seated herself at the piano, 
 sang some notes, and then gave up. With- 
 out embarrassment, as if nothing had hap- 
 pened, she said, "I have now proved to 
 you that I can't sing to-day." 
 
 The wife of the Justice bit her lips, and 
 breathed hard with quivering nostrils, at 
 the foolish girl acting as if nothing was the 
 matter. The forester's wife sang another 
 song ; and now Lina, placing herself at her 
 side, said that she would sing a duet, but 
 she could not sing alone. And she did sing, 
 in a fresh soprano voice, somewhat timidly, 
 but with clear and pure tone. 
 
 With unconscious simplicity, as if he 
 were an old acquaintance, she now asked 
 Eric to sing. The whole company united 
 in the request, but Eric positively declined, 
 and looked up surprised when Pranken 
 joined in with the remark, " The captain is 
 right in not exhibiting at once all his va- 
 ried talents." It was said in the gentlest 
 tone, but the sarcastic point was unmistak- 
 able. 
 
 "I thank you for standing by me like a 
 good comrade," said Eric, looking round. 
 
 The sky was clear, only it still lightened 
 over the Taunus mountains. The com- 
 pany took their leave, with many thanks 
 for the delightful day they had spent, and 
 the charming evening. Even the perpetu- 
 ally silent " Mrs. Lay-figure " now spoke, 
 appearing in her fashionable new hood, 
 which she had put on very becomingly. 
 Just as they were departing, the physician 
 made his appearance. He had been de- 
 
 tained by the storm while visiting a patient 
 in a neighboring village. He drove off with 
 the rest, having scarcely had tkne to say 
 good-evening to the Count Clodwig and 
 Bella. 
 
 Bella drew a long breath when the re- 
 ception was all over. There was much 
 conversation in the different carriages, but 
 in one there was weeping, for Lina re- 
 ceived a sharp scolding for her behavior, 
 in acting as if she were nothing but a stu- 
 pid, simple country girl. Instead of being 
 sprightly and making the most of herself, 
 she behaved as if she had come, only an 
 hour before, from keeping geese. Lina 
 had for a long time been . accustomed 
 to these violent reproofs, but she seemed to- 
 day to take them more feelingly to heart. 
 She had been so happy, that now the se- 
 vere lecture came doubly hard. She si- 
 lently wept. 
 
 The Justice, who was no justice of the 
 peace in his own family, took no part in 
 thli feminine outbreak. Not until he was 
 ready to take a fresh cigar did he say, 
 "This loquacious Dournay seems to me a 
 dangerous " man . " 
 
 " I think him very agreeable." 
 
 "Woman's logic! as if the amiability, 
 instead of excluding, did not rather include, 
 the dangerous element. Don't you see 
 through this very transparent intrigue ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then put together these facts: we 
 come across him at the convent, where the 
 daughter of this exceedingly wealthy Herr 
 Sonnenkamp is living, and he acts as if he 
 knew no one, and had no special end in 
 view. Now he wants to be the tutor of 
 young Sonnenkamp. Ha ! what a flash ! " 
 
 A bright flash of lightning illumined not 
 only the landscape, but the relation in 
 which several people stood to each other. 
 Especially the Eden villa was as clearly 
 defined in every part as if it were only a 
 few paces off. 
 
 " Just see," continued the Justice, " how 
 this great pile of buildings and the park are 
 lighted up, and no one knows what is brew- 
 ing up here. Amazing world ! Baron Prank- 
 en introduces this Dournay to his sister- 
 in-law and his father-in-law as a friend, and 
 yet these two men are sworn enemies." 
 
 The wife of the Justice was vexed with 
 her husband. He was so animated, and 
 made such keen observations, alone with 
 her and at home, while in society he had 
 hardly a word to say, and let others bear 
 away all the honors. 
 
 ' ' Who is the father-in-law you speak 
 of?" she asked, for the sake of saying 
 something. 
 
20 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 "Why, Herr Sonnenkamp, of course; 
 at least, lie is to be. That inexhaustible 
 wealth of his is guano for the Baron Prank- 
 en ; he needs it, and why should he trouble 
 himself about where it comes from ? " 
 
 Lina threw her veil over her face, and 
 shut her eyes. The Justice now explained 
 the special reasons why neither he, nor his 
 wife, should become mixed up in these af- 
 fairs. 
 
 " This captain-doctor is a dangerous 
 man, dangerous in many respects. 11 This 
 was his last remark, and they were silent 
 until they reached home. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 CONFESSION OF TWO KINDS. 
 
 Otto von Pranken walked with his sis- 
 ter Bella up and down the garden. Otto in- 
 formed her that he had recommended Eric 
 to Herr Sonnenkamp, but that he was al- 
 ready very sorry for it. 
 
 Bella, who was always out of humor 
 after she had made herself a victim to the 
 collation, turned now her ill humor against 
 her brother, who had introduced to her as 
 a fitting guest one who was, or wished to be, 
 a menial, and above all, a menial of that 
 Herr Sonnenkamp. With mischievous sat- 
 isfaction she added thereto, that Otto must 
 take delight in boldly leaping over difficul- 
 ties, since he had recommended into the 
 family such an attractive person as this 
 doctor — she made use of that title as be- 
 ing inferior to that of captain. The natural 
 consequence would be that the daughter of 
 the house would fall in love with her broth- 
 er's tutor. 
 
 " This Herr Dournay," she ended by 
 saying, "is a very attractive person, not 
 merely because he is extraordinarily hand- 
 some, but yet more because he possesses a 
 romantic open-heartedness and honesty. 
 Whether it is genuine or assumed, at any 
 rate, it tells, and particularly with a girl of 
 seventeen just out of a convent." 
 
 Otto answered good naturedly, that he 
 had given his sister credit for a less common- 
 place imagination ; moreover, that Eric was 
 an acknowledged woman-hater, who would 
 never love a real woman of flesh and blood. 
 Yet Pranken declared his intention of call- 
 ing the next morning at the villa, and tell- 
 ing Herr Sonnenkamp in confidence how 
 very reluctant he was to give the recommen- 
 dation ; that he should beseech him to dis- 
 miss the applicant politely, for he might with 
 propriety and justice say that Eric would 
 inoculate the boy with radical ideas ; yes, 
 that it might further be said to Herr Son- 
 nenkamp, that to receive Eric would be 
 
 displeasing at court. This last reason, he 
 thought, would carry all before it. Pran- 
 ken had worked himself into the belief that 
 to have a secure position in the court-circle 
 was the highest that Herr Sonnenkamp 
 could aim at. 
 
 Bella rejected this plan ; she took pleas- 
 ure in inciting her brother to gain the vic- 
 tory over such an opponent ; that would in- 
 spire him with fresh animation. Moreover, 
 that it might be well to offset the Lady 
 Perini, whose ecclesiastical tendencies no 
 one had thoroughly fathomed, by a man 
 who was a representative of the world, and 
 under obligations of gratitude to them. 
 And further it was not to be doubted that 
 a perpetual, secret war would exist between 
 Donna Perini and this over-confident Dour- 
 nay, so that, whatever might happen, they 
 would have the regulation and disposal of 
 matters in their own hands. 
 
 Bella forgot all her vexation, for a whole 
 web of intrigue unfolded itself clearly to her 
 sight, agreeable in the prosecution, and 
 tending to one result. She was the confi- 
 dante of Fraulein Perini, but she herself 
 did not wholly trust her, and Otto must re- 
 main intimate with Eric ; and in this way, 
 they would hold the Sonnenkamp family in 
 their hands, for Eric would undoubtedly ac- 
 quire great influence. 
 
 Otto strenuously resisted the carrying out 
 of the part assigned to him, but he was not 
 let off. A cat sitting quiet and breathless 
 before a mouse-hole will not be enticed 
 away, for she knows that the mouse will 
 come out ; it is nibbling already ; and then 
 there is a successful spring. Bella had 
 one means of inducing her brother to do as 
 she wished ; she need only repeat to him 
 how irresistible he was, and how necessa- 
 ry it was for him to gain that self-confidence 
 which had hitherto stood him in such good 
 part. Otto was not fully convinced, but he 
 was persuaded that he soon would be. 
 And, moreover, this Dournay was a poor 
 man whom one must help ; he had taken to- 
 day the sudden revelation of his position 
 in life with a good grace, and behaved very 
 well. 
 
 Whilst brother and sister promenaded in 
 the garden, Eric sat in the study of Count 
 Clodwig, that was lighted by a branching 
 lamp. They sat opposite, in arm-chairs, at 
 the long writing-table. "I regret, 11 Clod- 
 wig began, "that the physician came so 
 late ; he has a rough rind, but a sound heart. 
 I think that you and he will be good 
 friends." 
 
 Eric said nothing, and. Clodwig contin- 
 ued : "I cannot understand why my broth- 
 er-in-law, in his peculiar manner, informed 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 21 
 
 the company so suddenly of your intention. 
 Now it is a common topic of conversation, 
 and your excellent project loses its first 
 naive charm." 
 
 Eric replied with great decision, that we 
 must allow the deed resolved upon in med- 
 itation to come into the cold sharp air of 
 the critical understanding. 
 
 Clodwig again gazed at him fixedly, ap- 
 parently surprised that this man should be 
 so well armed at all points ; and placing 
 his small hand upon a portfolio before him 
 as if he were writing down something new, 
 he resumed : — 
 
 " I have, to-day, been confirmed anew in 
 an old opinion. People generally regard 
 private employment as a degradation, re- 
 gardless of the consideration that the im- 
 portant thing is, in what spirit one serves, 
 and not whom he serves. ' I serve, 1 is the 
 motto of my maternal ancestors." 
 
 The old man paused, and Eric did not 
 know whether he was going on, or waited i 
 for a reply; but Clodwig continued: "It 
 is regarded as highly honorable when a 
 general officer, or a state official undertakes 
 the education of a prince ; but is it any the 
 less honorable to engage in the work of ed- 
 ucating thirty peasant lads, or to devote 
 one's self, as you do, to the bringing up of 
 this wealthy youth ? And now I have one 
 request to make of you." 
 
 " My only desire is to grant it." 
 
 " Will you tell me as exactly as possible 
 how you have so — I mean, how you have 
 become what you are ? " 
 
 " Most willingly ; and I will deserve the 
 honor of being allowed to speak so unre- 
 servedly, by not being too modest. I will 
 speak to you as to myself. 11 
 
 Clodwig rang a bell that stood upon the 
 table, and a servant entered. "Robert, 
 what room is assigned to the doctor ? 11 
 " The brown one directly over the count's 
 chamber. 11 " Let the captain have the bal- 
 cony chamber." "If the count will par- 
 don me, the luggage of Leonhard, Prince 
 of Saxony, is still in that room." "No 
 matter ; and, one thing more, I desire not 
 to be interrupted until I ring. 11 
 
 The servant departed, and Clodwig set- 
 tled himself in the arm-chair, drawing a 
 plush sofa-blanket over his knees ; then he 
 said, "If I shut my eyes, do not think that 
 I am asleep." 
 
 In the manner with which Clodwig now 
 bade Eric speak out frankly, there was a 
 trustful kindness, very far removed from all 
 patronizing condescension; it expressed, 
 rather, an intimate sympathy and a most 
 hearty confidence. Eric began. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A SEEKER. 
 
 " I am twenty-eight years old, and when 
 I review my life, it seems to me so far to 
 have been xmly a search. One occupation 
 leaves so many faculties dormant, and yet 
 the torture of making a choice must come 
 to an end ; and in every calling of life the 
 entire manhood may be maintained and 
 called forth into action. 
 
 "I am the child of a perfectly happy 
 marriage, and you know what that means. 
 I shared, from my third year, the education 
 of the Prince Leonhard. There was a per- 
 petual opposition between us, the reason of 
 which I did not discover until later, when 
 an open breach occurred. I then saw for 
 the first time, that a sort of dissimulation, 
 which does not agree with good comrade- 
 ship, had made me outwardly deferential, 
 and inwardly uneasy and irritated. Per- 
 haps nothing is more opposed to the very 
 nature of a child than a perpetual deference 
 and compliant acquiescence. 
 
 " I entered the military school, where I 
 received marked respect, because I had 
 been the comrade of the prince. My father 
 was there my special instructor, and there 
 I lived two years with your brother-in-law. 
 I was not distinguished as a scholar. 
 
 " One of the happiest days of my life 
 was the one on which I wore my epaulets 
 for the first time ; and though the day on 
 which I laid aside my uniform was not less 
 happy, I am not yet free from inconsistency. 
 I cannot, to this day, see a battery of artil- 
 lery pass by without feeling my heart beat 
 quicker. 
 
 " I travel backwards and forwards, and I 
 pray you to excuse disconnected narration. 
 I have, to-day, been through such a various 
 experience ; but I will now endeavor to tell 
 my story more directly and concisely. 
 
 " Soon after I became lieutenant, my pa- 
 rents removed to the university city : I was 
 now left alone. I was, for a whole year, 
 contented with myself and happy, like 
 every one around me. I can remember 
 now the very hour of a beautiful autumn 
 afternoon, — I still see the tree, and hear 
 the magpie in its branches, — when I sud- 
 denly reined in my horse, and something 
 within me asked, ' What art thou doing in 
 the world ? training thyself and thy recruits 
 to kill thy fellow-men in the most scientific 
 manner ? 1 " 
 
 " Allow me to ask one question," Clod- 
 wig mildly interrupted. " Did the military 
 school never seem to you a school of men, 
 and part of your profession ? " 
 
22 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 Eric was confused, and replied in the 
 negative ; then collecting his thoughts, he 
 resumed: " I sought to drive away oppres- 
 sive thoughts, but they would not leave 
 me. I had fallen out with myself and my 
 occupation. I cannot tell you how useless 
 to myself and to the world I seemed to be, 
 — all was empty, bare, desolate. There 
 were days when I was ashamed of my dress, 
 that I, a sound, strong man, should be loaf- 
 ing about so well dressed, my horse perhaps 
 consuming the oats of some poor man." 
 
 " That is morbid, 1 ' Clodwig struck in 
 with vehemence. 
 
 " I see it is now ; but then it was differ- 
 ent in the first stress of feeling. The Cri- 
 mean war broke out, and I asked for a fur- 
 lough, in order to become acquainted with 
 actual war. My commander, Prince Leon- 
 hard, at the rifle-practice, casually asked 
 me which army I meant to join ; and before 
 I could reply, he added, in a caustic tone, 
 ' Would you prefer to enlist with the light 
 French or the heavy Englishman ? ' My 
 tongue was tied, and I perceived clearly 
 my own want of a clear understanding of 
 my position. How mere a cipher was I, 
 standing there without any knowledge of 
 myself or the world ! My outer relations 
 shared in the total ruin of my inner being. 
 Must I relate to you all these petty annoy- 
 ances ? I deserved to have them, for there 
 was in me nothing but contradiction, and 
 my whole life was one single great lie. A 
 uniform had been given me ; I was not my- 
 self, and I was a poor soldier, for I aban- 
 doned myself to the study of philosophy, 
 and wished to solve the riddle of life. I 
 am of a peculiarly companionable, sympa- 
 thetic nature, and yet the continued life 
 among my fellow-soldiers had become an 
 impossibility. 
 
 " I bore it two years, then asked for my 
 discharge ; which I received, with the rank 
 of Captain, out of respect to my parents, I 
 think. I was free, at last, and yet, as I 
 said before, it saddened me to break away 
 from my life. 
 
 " I was free ! It was strange to look out 
 into the world and say, World, what do you 
 want of me ? What must I do for you ? 
 Here are a thousand employments ; which 
 shall I take ? I was ready for anything. 
 I had a fine voice, and many people thought 
 that I might become a professional singer, 
 and I received overtures to that effect. 
 But my own inclination led in a very differ- 
 ent direction. An earnest longing pos- 
 sessed me to make some sacrifice for my 
 fellow-men. Had I been a devout believer, 
 I think I should have become a monk." 
 
 Clodwig opened his eyes and met Eric's 
 
 beaming glance. After a short pause, 
 Clodwig nodded to Eric, then folded his 
 arms again on his breast, laid his head back, 
 nodded again, and closed his eyes. Eric 
 continued : — 
 
 M When I first went through the streets 
 in a civilian's dress, I felt as if I were walk- 
 ing naked before the eyes of men, as one 
 sometimes seems to be in troubled dreams. 
 In such a helpless, forlorn state of feeling, 
 one grows superstitious, and is easily gov- 
 erned by the merest accidents. The first 
 person who met me, and stared at me, as if 
 doubting who I was, was my former captain, 
 who had left the service, and was superin- 
 tendent of a House of Correction for men. 
 He had seen the notice of my discharge, 
 and remembering some of my former at- 
 tempts in that direction, asked whether I 
 meant to devote myself entirely to poetry. 
 I answered in the negative, and he told me 
 that he was looking for an assistant. My 
 decision was soon made ; I would conse- 
 crate myself to the care and elevation of 
 my fallen fellow-men. After entering on 
 my new occupation I wrote to my parents. 
 My father replied to me, that he appreciat- 
 ed my efforts, but foresaw with certainty 
 that my natural love of beauty would make 
 a life among criminals unbearable to me ; 
 he was right. I tried with all my might to 
 keep in subjection a longing for the higher 
 luxuries of life, but in vain. I was without 
 that peculiar natural vein, or perhaps had 
 not reached that elevated standpoint, which 
 enables one to look upon and to treat all 
 the aspects of life as so many natural phe- 
 nomena. In my captain's unilormj received 
 more respect from the prisoners than in my 
 citizen's dress. This experience was a sort 
 of nightmare to me. Life among the con- 
 victs, who were either hardened brutes or 
 cunning hypocrites, became a hell to me, 
 and this hell had one peculiar torment. I 
 fell into a mood of morbid self-criticsm, be- 
 cause I could not forget the world, but was 
 constantly trying to guess the thoughts of 
 others. I tormented myself by imagining 
 what men said of my course. In their eyes 
 I seemed to myself now an idealistic vaga- 
 bond, if you will allow the expression. This 
 I was not, and would not be, and above all, 
 I was determined that my enemies and de- 
 riders should not have the triumph of see- 
 ing me the wreck of a fickle and purpose- 
 less existence. 
 
 " Ah, I vexed myself unnecessarily; for 
 who has time or inclination to look for a 
 man who has disappeared ! Men bury the 
 dead, and go back to their every-day work, 
 and so they bury the living too. I do not 
 reproach them for it, it must be so. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 23 
 
 " It became clear to me that I was not fitted 
 for the calling I had chosen. I lived too 
 much within myself, and tried in every 
 event to study the foundation and growth 
 of character of those around me, not will- 
 ing to acknowledge that the nature and ac- 
 tions of men do not develope themselves so 
 logically as I had thought. Besides, I was 
 too impassioned, and possessed by a constant 
 longing for the beautiful. 
 
 " I thought of emigrating to the New 
 World, but what should I do there ? Was 
 it worth while to have borne such varied 
 experiences and struggles in order to turn 
 a bit of the primeval forest into a corn- 
 field? Still, one consideration drew me 
 toward America. My father's only broth- 
 er, the proprietor of a manufactory of jew- 
 elry, lived there, but was quite lost to us. 
 He had loved my mother's sister, but his 
 suit was somewhat harshly rejected, and he 
 left Europe for the New World. He cast 
 off all connection with his home and family, 
 and turned out of his house in New York a 
 friend of my father's who guardedly men- 
 tioned us to him. He would hear nothing 
 of us, nor even of Europe. I imagined 
 that I could reconcile my uncle, and you 
 know that a man in desperate circumstances 
 looks for salvation to the most adventurous 
 undertakings. 
 
 "My good father helped me. What he 
 had always recognized as my true vocation, 
 from which I had turned blinded by the at- 
 tractions of army life, I now saw plainly. 
 A thirst for loneliness arose within me ; I 
 felt that I must find some spot of earth 
 where no disturbing tone could penetrate 
 the inner life, where I could immerse my- 
 self in solitude. This solitude which is in- 
 clusive of all true life, study, the world of 
 letters, now offered to me. My father helped 
 me, while showing me tkat my past life was 
 not wasted, but must give me a new direc- 
 tion and a peculiar success. He brought 
 me a birth-day gift which I had received in 
 my cradle ; the senate of the University, 
 in which he had lectured before his appoint- 
 ment as tutor of the prince, had bestowed 
 upon me soon after my birth its certificate 
 of matriculation, as a new-born prince re- 
 ceives a military commission." 
 
 Clodwig laughed heartily, rubbed his 
 eyes, leaned forward with both hands on 
 his knees, looked kindly at Eric, and begged 
 him to go on. 
 
 " I have little more to tell you. I soon 
 schooled myself, or rather my father schooled 
 me, to live for universal ends, and to put 
 aside all personal aims as much as possible. 
 I devoted myself to the study of ancient 
 
 literature, and every aspiration for the 
 beautiful, which had idealized the poet's vo- 
 cation for me, found satisfaction in my in- 
 troduction to the classic world. ' Every 
 man may glory in his industry, 1 says the 
 poet. I worked faithfully, and felt only in 
 my father's house the happiness of a child, 
 and in my youth the joy of mental growth. 
 My father hoped that success would be 
 granted me where he had failed ; he made 
 me heir of those ideas which he could neith- 
 er establish as scientific truth, nor impart 
 from his professor's chair. If there ever 
 were a happy home, made holy by lofty as- 
 piration, it was my parents' house. There 
 my younger brother died, now very nearly 
 a year ago ; my father, who already was 
 sorely sick at heart, with all his stoic forti- 
 tude could not bear this blow. It is two 
 months since he also died. I kept down the 
 anguish of my bereavement, finished my 
 studies, and received my doctor's degree a 
 few days ago. My mother and I formed 
 various plans, but have not yet decided 
 upon any. I made this excursion to the 
 Rhine in compliance with my mother's ad- 
 vice, for I have been working very hard ; 
 on my return we meant to come to some 
 decision. I met your brother-in-law, and 
 I feel it my duty not to turn away from the 
 opening which has offered. I am ready to 
 enter into private service, knowing what I 
 undertake, and believing that I am thor- 
 oughly equipped for it. There was a time 
 when I thought I could find satisfaction only 
 in working for some great public interest ; 
 now I should be content to educate a sin- 
 gle human being, still more to co-operate in 
 training to a fitness for his great duties one, 
 who, by his future lordship over vast pos- 
 sessions, represents in himself manifold hu- 
 man interests. 
 
 " I have come to the end of my story. I 
 do not wish that any one should think better 
 of me than I deserve, but I also wish to 
 pass for what I believe I am. I am neither 
 modest nor conceited ; I may be in danger- 
 ous ignorance, for I do not in the least 
 know how I am regarded by others ; I have 
 shown only what I find in myself by honest 
 self-examination. I mean to be a teacher. 
 He who would live in the spirit, and has not 
 the artist's creative power, must be a 
 teacher ; for the teacher is, so to speak, the 
 artisan of the higher being, and, like every 
 artisan, is so much the better workman, or 
 teacher, the more of the artist spirit he has 
 and uses. A thought is the best gift which 
 man can bestow upon man, and what I give 
 my pupil is no longer my own. But par- 
 don me for having fallen into this vein of 
 
24 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 preachifig. I have shown you my whole 
 life, as well as I can ; where I have left any 
 gaps, pray question me.' 1 
 
 "Nothing further is needed," said Clod- 
 wig, rising, and quietly laying aside the 
 sofa-blanket. " Only one question. Have 
 you never had the desire to marry, or has 
 that not entered into your plans ? " 
 
 "No, I shall not marry. I have heard 
 so many men say, 1 Yes, ideals, I had them 
 too, but now I live in and for my family.' 
 I will not sacrifice everything higher to the 
 caprice of a pretty woman. I know that I 
 am at variance with the world ; I cannot 
 dissemble, nor can I change my own way 
 of thinking, nor bring others over to mine. 
 I have set myself a difficult life-task, which 
 can be best carried out alone." 
 
 Clodwig stepped quickly towards Eric 
 and said : — 
 
 "I give you my hand again. This hand 
 shall never be withdrawn from you, so long 
 as it has life. I had something else in view 
 for you, but .now I cannot and need not 
 speak of it ; I will subdue my own wishes. 
 Enough; press on quietly and firmly to- 
 wards your goal ; whatever I can do to help 
 you reach it, you have a right to demand. 
 Remember you have a claim upon me. in 
 every situation and condition of your life. 
 You cannot yet estimate what you have given, 
 and are still giving me. Good night, my 
 dear young friend." 
 
 The count hastily withdrew, as if to 
 avoid any further emotion. Eric stood 
 still, looking at the empty chair and the 
 sofa-blanket as if all were a dream, until a 
 servant came, and, in a very respectful man- 
 ner, conducted him to his room. 
 
 I 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE GOOD HOST. 
 
 When a man has laid open his whole his- 
 tory to another, he often seems to himself 
 emptied, hollow, and void, — what is left of 
 him? how small and contemptible he ap- 
 pears ! But it was quite otherwise with 
 Eric. From a tower below in the valley 
 rang clear a silver -toned midnight bell, 
 hung there in ancient times by a noble lady, 
 to guide the lost wanderer in the forest to a 
 human dwelling. Eric heard it, and saw in 
 fancy the confessional in the church, with 
 its believers bending before it, or passing 
 out into the world again made strong by its 
 blessing. He had confessed to a man 
 whose life was consecrated by a pure spirit, 
 and felt himself not impoverished, but ele- 
 vated and strengthened, armed with self- 
 knowledge for every relation of ^life. 
 
 He opened the window, and inhaled the 
 cool, fragrant air of night. Over the val- 
 ley hung a thin mist ; the clocks in the vil- 
 lages struck midnight, and the Wolfsgarten 
 clock chimed in sweet and low. Eric re- 
 signed himself to the influence of nature's 
 life and power as it presses upward in the 
 tree-trunks, moves in the branches, and re- 
 freshes every bud. In the distance rolled 
 a railway train. The nightingales sang 
 loudly, then suddenly ceased as if over- 
 powered by sleep. 
 
 In nebulous forms, familiar and strange 
 figures gathered around Eric. How much 
 he had experienced in this one day, though 
 he had not yet crossed the threshold of the 
 house where perhaps his future lot was 
 cast ! He had reviewed his past life, and 
 had found a home of which he had not 
 dreamed yesterday. Ah, how great and 
 rich is the world, and true comrades live in 
 it waiting only for our summons and the 
 greeting of friendly eyes ! 
 
 All the fulness of life in the immortality 
 of nature and the human spirit flooded 
 Eric's being. He felt a blessed elation ; he 
 had given up his life, it was taken from 
 him ; he was freed from self, and lived and 
 soared in the infinite. 
 
 The moon rose over the mountains, a 
 whispering thrill rustled through the wood, 
 the nightingale sang loud again, the mists 
 rose from the valley and vanished, and one 
 broad beam glittered on a glass dome in the 
 distance. There lay Villa Eden. 
 
 Only after a vigorous resistance Eric 
 finally yielded to weariness and closed the 
 window. A black trunk marked with the 
 crest of Prince Leonhard first attracted his 
 notice, and he smiled to see how Clodwig I 
 
 had shown his household in what honor he 
 held his guest ; this room had been occu- 
 pied by the Prince a few days before. 
 Eric then gazed long on a bust of Medusa, 
 fascinated by the grand, powerful, beauti- 
 ful face ; on the head with its wildly disor- 
 dered locks were two wide-spread wings ; 
 below the heavy frowning brow gleamed 
 the great, death-dealing eyes; the mouth 
 was haughtily curved, and on the lips lay 
 scornful, defiant words ; under the chin 
 two snakes were knotted together like a 
 kerchief. The aspect of the head was at 
 once repulsive and fascinating. 
 
 Opposite the Medusa stood a cast of the 
 Victory of Rauch, that wonderful counte- 
 nance recalling the face of Queen Louisa, 
 the noble head with its garland of oak- 
 leaves not raised, but bent as if in thought 
 and self-control. . . A strange pair were 
 those two busts ! but there was no more time 
 to dwell upon them. Eric was overcome by 
 sleep, but woke again after a few hours, 
 when day had scarcely dawned. 
 
 There are hours and days of joyous and 
 buoyant feeling, as if we had found the 
 key to all hearts ; as if we held in our hands 
 the magic wand which reveals all living 
 springs, and brings us near to every soul 
 as to a friend and a brother. The world is 
 purified, the soul pervaded by the deep 
 feeling of unalloyed blessedness, which is 
 nothing but breathing, living, loving. 
 
 Encompassed by such an atmosphere, 
 Eric stood at the window and looked out 
 over the river to the mountains beyond, 
 the castles, the towns, the villages, on the 
 banks and on the heights. Everywhere 
 thou art at home, thou art living in a beau- 
 tiful world. He went at once into the 
 open air, and strode on not as if he were 
 walking, but as if borne onward by some 
 ineffable power. Drops of rain from the 
 last night's storm hung upon the tender 
 green of the foliage, on the grass and flow- 
 ers ; no breeze stirred the air, and fre- 
 quent rain-drops, like a sudden shower, 
 pattered down from the overhanging 
 branches. A ray of sunlight now gleams 
 upon every leaf and twig, and awakens 
 an inexpressible movement ; the blackbird 
 sings in the copse, and with his clear, shrill 
 tone is heard far above all the interming- 
 ling chorus of melodies. 
 
 Eric stood motionless near a covered 
 pavilion on the very ridge of the mountain, 
 and gazed long at a kite hovering with out- 
 spread wings over the summit, and then 
 letting itself down into the wood on the 
 other side of the river. What made "him 
 think at that moment of Herr Sonnen- 
 
26 
 
 THE COUNTKT-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 kamp? Was it envy and dread of the little | 
 bird, whom evil tongues called a bird of 
 prey ; and has he not the right to live ac- 
 cording to his might ? 
 
 Eric's thoughts were wafted toward the 
 boy, longing to mingle in his dreams, and 
 whisper to him, I am coming to thee. 
 He endeavomd for a long time to get sight 
 of the glass dome, but it was nowhere visi- 
 ble. He went away from the river to an 
 elevated plain, from which there was again 
 a view of valleys, heights, and mountains. 
 
 He stood in the midst of an extensive 
 field, and for the first time saw a vineyard 
 which was just being planted. The labor- 
 ers held implements, like augurs, in their 
 hands, and making with them holes in the 
 loose earth, they set out the young shoots 
 in rows. 
 
 He saluted the laborers, and they an- 
 swered him cheerfully, feeling from the sound 
 of his yoice that he greeted every stranger as 
 a brother. He inquired how long it would 
 be before the first vintage, and when an 
 old man answered clearly all his questions, 
 he felt a new refreshment. 
 
 This conversation brought him back from 
 his state of excitement, back from his wan- 
 dering into the infinite, again to the earth. 
 He went away expressing his thanks, and 
 realising that he must bring this strain of 
 lofty feeling into subjection to actual life. 
 He met laborers who were going to a 
 limestone quarry. He joined them, and 
 learned that this also belonged to the 
 count, who had leased all his lands, not re- 
 taining for himself even the management. 
 
 Receiving a friendly greeting from the 
 overseer, he was shown a manufactory of 
 cement near by, and saw paving-tiles from 
 excellent patterns of the time of the Re- 
 naissance, which Clodwig had recommended, 
 and which found a ready sale. 
 
 Eric returned to the Castle, refreshed by 
 the breath of nature as well as by this 
 glance into actual human life. A servant 
 told him that the count was expecting him. 
 Clodwig, already fully dressed for the day, 
 took his guest by the hand, saying, "I 
 shall ask you by and by many questions, 
 but only one now : — did your father 
 despair at the last, or — how shall I ex- 
 press it ? — did he die in the belief of an 
 orderly and progressive unfolding of the 
 social and moral world ? " 
 
 Eric then depicted in vivid language de- 
 rived from his own recollections, and under 
 the inspiring influence of his morning's ex- 
 hilaration, how his father, on the last night 
 of his life, congratulated his son that he was 
 born into the new age, which need no long- 
 er exhaust itself against opposing forms 
 
 | of violence. " My son," he said, " my heart 
 thrills with joy, when I contemplate how in 
 this century a beauty, a freedom, and a 
 brotherly love unfold themselves which 
 existed to us only in the germ. As one 
 example, my son, see how the State now 
 educates its children, and does it in a way 
 that no Solon, no Socrates, ever could im- 
 agine. Thou wilt live in a time when it 
 will hardly be conceived that there were 
 slaves, serfs, bondmen, monopolies, and 
 the whole trumpery of a false world." 
 
 Eric added how happy it made him, that 
 his father had departed in such a cheerful 
 mood, and that he, as a son, could so fully 
 enter into his hopes, and carry them out in- 
 to life. He spoke in such an excitable man- 
 ner, that Clodwig placed his hand on his 
 shoulder and said, " We will not, in the 
 morning, take such a distant flight." He ex- 
 pressed also his satisfaction that he could en- 
 ter so fully into the life of the coming gen- 
 eration, for he had always been troubled 
 lest he might lose all hold upon the new 
 time. 
 
 " We have had our morning devotions, 
 now let us go to breakfast," he said, turn- 
 ing round easily as he got up from his seat. 
 "Yet one more question: did your father 
 never explain to you what occurred at his 
 sudden — you know what I mean — loss of 
 favor at court ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; my father told me the whole, 
 circumstantially." 
 
 " And did he not forbid you to speak of 
 it to any one ? " 
 
 "To others, but not to you." 
 " Did he mention me by name ? " 
 " No, but he expressly enjoined it upon 
 me to inform those whom I honored with 
 my whole soul, and so I can tell you." 
 
 " Speak rather low," Clodwig enjoined, 
 and Eric went on. 
 
 ' ' My father, in that last interview which 
 no one knew anything about, was to have 
 received from the hand of the sovereign a 
 title of nobility, in order that he might be 
 appointed to an office at court. He said to 
 the sovereign, * Your highness, you make 
 null the blessing of the long years in which 
 I have spent my best strength in the educa- 
 tion of my youthful prince, if you think I 
 accept this on my own account, or that I 
 regard it as something belonging to the 
 age in which we live. 1 ' 1 do not make a 
 jest of such things, 1 the prince replied. 
 • Neither do I, 1 said my father. 
 
 "Years after, his lips trembled as he rela- 
 ted this to me, and he said, that that mo- 
 ment, when he stood face to face with his 
 pupil speechless, was the bitterest moment 
 of his life." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 27 
 
 A silent pause now ensued between Eric 
 and Clodwig, until the latter said finally, 
 " I understand, I understand ; let us go." 
 
 They went into the breakfast-room on the 
 ground floor, the doors of which were wide 
 open. Bella soon appeared ; she thought 
 that Eric looked at her scrutinisingly, and 
 quickly turning away, she went to a side 
 table to prepare the coffee. 
 
 " My wife," said Clodwig, " has already 
 sent a messenger, this morning, to Fräulein 
 Perini, and I have added a message to Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, that you, dearDournay, would 
 present yourself this evening, or, what 
 would be better, early to-morrow morn- 
 ing." - 
 
 "And I am to ask you to excuse my 
 brother, who has set out, early this morn- 
 ing, in company with a young man whom 
 they call here the Wine-chevalier, to the 
 horse-market at Mannheim. Will you have 
 coffee or tea ? " 
 
 u If you please, coffee." 
 
 " That is fine, and on the strength of 
 that we are good friends," said Bella, in a 
 lively way. "It is an abominable excess of 
 politeness, when people reply to such a 
 
 Question, 1 It makes no difference to me.' 
 fit makes no difference to you, dear polite 
 soul, then give some decided answer, and 
 don't put off the choice upon me." 
 
 A merry key was thus struck, and they 
 seated themselves at table. Bella noticed 
 that Eric observed her, and she knew that she 
 looked better in her pretty morning-dress, 
 than in full evening costume. Her move- 
 ments were very elastic and graceful. She 
 was a tall, noble, well-made person; her 
 soft, dark-auburn hair, now partly loose, 
 was confined by a fine point-lace kerchief, 
 put on with apparent carelessness, as if one 
 had not taken a second look in the mirror, 
 and tied under the chin. Her complexion 
 was fresh, as if she had just bathed her face 
 in milk ; and in fact she did wash her face 
 in milk every morning and evening. The 
 expression of her countenance was keen 
 and bright. All was nobly formed, except 
 that she had a thin, compressed upper-lip, 
 which a malicious gentleman at court had 
 once called the lip of a poisoner. It was 
 very vexatious to Bella that her voice was so 
 masculine. 
 
 Her personal charms, her cordial and at 
 the same time arch manners, showed to 
 great advantage in the light talk at the 
 breakfast table ; and when at intervals she 
 keenly watched Eric, she was surprised at 
 his appearance. Yesterday she had seen 
 him first only in the evening twilight, and 
 , afterwards by candle-light. He was mani- 
 festly a person to be seen in full daylight ; 
 
 and in fact, there was now a brilliant light- 
 ing up of his countenance, for the happy ex- 
 citement of his whole inner being snowed 
 itself in his mien, and he looked at Bella, as 
 if he would say, ' I have become almost the 
 son of thy husband ; let the same noble union 
 be formed between us.' 
 
 Bella was unusually friendly, perhaps be- 
 cause she had already used a little artifice. 
 A note, written in Italian to Fräulein Perini, 
 cautioned her in terms as decided in mean- 
 ing, as they were carefully worded in ex- 
 pression, of the necessity of subjecting the 
 new-comer to a sharp examination. 
 
 When Clodwig told the messenger that 
 Eric would make his appearance in the 
 evening, or the next morning, she felt her- 
 self justified and at rest in regard to her 
 previous artifice ; for Clodwig had never be- 
 fore detained a guest with such determina- 
 tion of his own, and no one could even 
 boast of having made it appear that he was 
 not sufficient for himself. 
 
 Clodwig and Bella had promised each 
 other to live only to themselves, and until 
 now they had faithfully kept the promise. 
 
 "I am a weary soul," Clodwig had said 
 to Bella when he offered her his hand, and 
 she had answered, that she would refresh 
 the weary one. She had cut off every re- 
 lation with the world, for she knew that 
 friendly visits last only for a few hours or 
 days, and make the solitude afterwards 
 more keenly felt. 
 
 Bella was very amiable always, and to 
 everybody, provided everybody always did 
 according to her will, and lived to please 
 her. She really had no love for people 
 and no desire for their society ; she wanted 
 nothing from others, and wished only to 
 be left alone. The manifold relations which 
 Clodwig had formerly had with men and 
 women were repugnant to her, and he 
 accommodated himself to the wish of his 
 wife, who lived wholly for him, so far as to 
 reduce his extensive correspondence and 
 his personal intercourse to the smallest pos- 
 sible limit. They kept up a periodical con- 
 nection with only two social circles in the 
 neighborhood : one of these was the so-called 
 middle-class circle who were invited to col- 
 lation, as it was named, which we made ac- 
 quaintance with yesterday ; the other was 
 a select circle, of the noble families scat- 
 tered around, who were invited twice a 
 year. Was this renegade captain now to 
 change all this ? 
 
 In the triumphant thought that she had 
 banished him, Bella became more and more 
 talkative. Eric could not refrain from 
 highly extolling that mirthful excitement, 
 that exuberant humor which pervades the 
 
28 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Rhineland, and takes possession of every 
 one who comes within the sphere of its in- 
 habitants. At last he led the conversation 
 again to Sonnenkamp, by remarking that 
 the manner in which the man was spoken 
 about yesterday was very puzzling to him. 
 
 Bella in an off-hand manner declared, 
 that she found the man very interesting, al- 
 though this was going counter to the uni- 
 versal Philistinism ; that she regarded him 
 as a conqueror, a bold Berserkir, who had 
 nothing to win for himself in this stock-job- 
 bing age but gold. 
 
 There appeared to be a sympathetic at- 
 traction between Bella and Sonnenkamp 1 s 
 speculative and daring spirit. Clodwig con- 
 siderately added, — 
 
 " I have often noticed, that so long as a 
 man is accumulating wealth, his prosperity 
 seems to give universal satisfaction ; men feel 
 pleased, as if they were accumulating too. 
 But when he has attained his end, they 
 turn round and find fault, where before 
 they had commended. Do you understand 
 anvthing of horticulture ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Herr Sonnenkamp is a very considera- 
 ble horticulturist. Is it not strange that 
 in the laying out of parks we have wholly 
 supplanted the formal methods of French 
 gardening, which now turn to the culture of 
 fruit, and find encouragement in the pecu- 
 niary profit that governs all such operations ? 
 The English excel in swine-raising* their 
 swine being fat sides of bacon with four 
 feet attached ; the French, on the other 
 hand, having taken to fruit culture, have 
 succeeded in producing fabulous crops. 
 
 "Yes!" he concluded, smiling, "Herr 
 Sonnenkamp is a tree-tutor, and, moreover, 
 a tyrannical tree-trimmer. To-day I can 
 speak out more freely. Sonnenkamp has 
 always been, and will always be, a stranger 
 to me. 
 
 " Through all his external polish, and an 
 increasing attention to the cultivation of 
 good manners, a sort of brutishness appears 
 in him, I mean brutishness in its original 
 meaning of an uncultivated state of nature." 
 
 " Yes," Bella remarked, " you will have a 
 difficult position, and especially with Ro- 
 land." 
 
 " With Roland ? " asked Eric. 
 
 " Yes, that is the boy's name. He would 
 like to know much, and learn nothing." 
 
 Bella looked round pleased with her 
 clever saying. The parrot in his great cage 
 upon the veranda uttered shrill cries as if 
 scolding. As she rose, Bella said, " There 
 you see my tyrant ; a scholar who tyran- 
 nises over his teacher in a most shocking 
 manner." 
 
 She took the parrot out of his cage, 
 placed him on her shoulder, fondled and ca- 
 ressed him, so that one almost grudged 
 such wasteful prodigality ; and her move- 
 ments were all beautiful, especially the curv- 
 ing of the throat and shoulders. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 MEDUSA AND VICTORIA. 
 
 Clodwig looked down for some time 
 after Bella had gone. He nodded to Eric 
 as if he would greet him anew. But Bella 
 soon returned, bearing the parrot on her 
 hand, and stroking it. She walked up and 
 down the room, lingering when Eric re- 
 lated how he had to-day, tearing himself 
 by force away from the view of the river, 
 gone back into the country, and had con- 
 versed with many persons. 
 
 Clodwig dwelt at length upon his pet 
 theory, that traces of the Roman Colonists 
 were still preserved in the physiognomy and 
 character of the people. 
 
 Bella, apparently unwilling to be obliged 
 to hear this again, interrupted, with good- 
 humored impertinence, — "When one turns 
 himself away from the Rhine, he has the 
 feeling, or at least I have, that some one, 
 it may be Father Rhine himself, looks after 
 me and calls out, ' Do turn round ! ' " 
 
 " We men do not always feel that we are 
 looked at," replied Clodwig, and requested 
 Eric to give his opinion about the earthen 
 vase, a present the day before from the 
 Justice, which was standing on a side-table 
 in the brealafast-room. Eric readily com- 
 plied, and they went into the adjoining 
 room, filled with a great variety of articles 
 found buried in the ground. Eric, fresh from 
 the study of antiquities, showed himself so 
 familiar with all the related topics, that Bel- 
 la could not refrain from expressing her as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 ' ' You are a good teacher, and it must 
 be a pleasure to be instructed by you." 
 Eric thanked her, and Bella continued with 
 friendly affability, — "Yes, indeed! many 
 people give instruction in order to make a 
 brilliant appearance, and many deal forth 
 their knowledge reluctantly ; but you, Doc- 
 tor, teach like a beneficent friend who de- 
 lights in being able to impart, but takes a 
 yet greater pleasure in bestowing a benefit 
 upon the recipient ; and you impart in such 
 a way that one is not only convinced you 
 understand the matter, but believes that he 
 himself does." 
 
 Clodwig looked up in amazement, for he 
 had said the evening before precisely the 
 same thing of Eric's father, while making 
 mention of the fact that the only little 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 29 
 
 treatise ever published by him had received 
 the disinterested help of Professor Dournay. 
 
 Bella withdrew after having thus shown 
 her friendliness and her admiring surprise. 
 The two men sat together for a long time 
 after this, and then went to Eric's room, 
 where Eric handed to the count a copy of 
 his Doctors thesis ; and it then first oc- 
 curred to him how strangely it had hap- 
 pened that he had there discussed the 
 apocryphal treatise of Plato, " Concern- 
 ing Riches," and now he was to be called 
 upon to educate one under conditions of 
 wealth. Eric and Clodwig were greatly 
 struck by this coincidence. 
 
 Clodwig requested Eric to translate* the 
 manuscript from Latin into German. He 
 did so, and it was to them a time of real 
 enjoyment. 
 
 When they arose, Clodwig observed to 
 Eric how strange it must appear to him to 
 find the Medusa and Victoria opposite 
 each other; but he confessed to a heresy 
 which met with his own approval, though 
 not in accordance with the received scien- 
 tific explanation. The Medusa was to him 
 the expression of all-consuming passion, 
 which stiffens with horror the sinning be- 
 holder who sees therein the image of himself; 
 and it was very significant that the ancients 
 represented this entire abandonment of all 
 the higher spiritual nature through a womanly 
 form, the unrestrained indulgence of passion 
 being opposite to the truly feminine, and 
 so the more unseemly. The Victoria of 
 Rauch, on the other hand, appeared to him 
 to be the embodiment of an eminently mod- 
 ern spiritual conception. 
 
 •'This countenance is wonderfully like " 
 — he did not finish the sentence, but, stam- 
 meringly beginning another, continued : 
 " This is not that Goddess of Victory who 
 wears proudly and loftily the crown upon 
 her gleaming forehead ; this is the repre- 
 sentation of victory which is inwardly sad 
 that there is a foe to be conquered. Yes, 
 still further, this Victoria is to me the god- 
 dess of victory over self, which is always 
 the grandest victory." 
 
 After Clodiwg had made this remark, he 
 said, " Now I leave you to yourself; you 
 have already talked too much to-day and 
 yesterday." Eric remained alone, and while 
 he was writing to his mother, Clodwig sat 
 with Bella and said to her : — 
 
 ** This young man is a genius, and ought 
 not to live in a dependent situation, bound 
 to routine service ; he ought to be free like 
 a bird, singing, flying, as he will, without 
 any fixed and unalterable limits of time and 
 occupation, and especially he ought to be 
 
 by himself. It is a joy to meet with such 
 originality and depth." 
 
 "Is he not too well aware of his own 
 worth ? " asked Bella, a flash of displeasure 
 gleaming in her eyes. 
 
 " Not at all. He does not wish to shine, 
 and yet he is genuine light. I feel as if I 
 stood in the clear sunshine of the spirit ; 
 he is a man of pure character, and I am at 
 home with him in the inmost realities, as I 
 am with myself." Bella said nothing, and 
 Clodwig continued : — "I like especially in 
 him, that he lets one who is talking with 
 him complete his sentence ; he does not in- 
 terrupt by any movement or any change of 
 feature ; and in such an active and richly 
 endowed mind this is doubly valuable, and 
 something more than mere civility." 
 
 Bella still kept silence, bent over her em- 
 broidery, on which she was diligently in- 
 tent. At last she looked up, and with a 
 beaming countenance, said, f'l rejoice in 
 your joy." 
 
 "And I should like to perpetuate this 
 joy," Clodwig replied. 
 
 " He is a handsome man," added Bella. 
 
 Clodwig answered, smiling, "Now, since 
 you have called my atention to it, I am re- 
 minded how handsome he is. But he does 
 not plume himself upon his good looks, and 
 I think that to be genuine beauty, which, 
 when present has nothing strikingly promi- 
 nent, all being in harmonious combination, 
 but which,when thought of afterwards,reveals 
 new and beautiful attributes and forms. 
 Most handsome men are forever looking 
 into a mirror visible only to themselves. 
 But why should I give up this man to some- 
 body else, and above all to this Sonnen- 
 camp? I am situated so that I can offer 
 him a home with me for years ! Why not 
 do it ? 
 
 "Why not?" said Bella, putting away 
 her embroidery. "I need not assure you 
 that I have no other joy in life than yours. 
 So it is now with this brief happiness of 
 yours, this childlike confidence you place in 
 this noble-looking man. I see also that he 
 has something elevated in his nature ; he im- 
 parts much and gladly, is stimulating and 
 quickening." 
 
 "Why not then?" 
 . " Because we want to be alone! Clod- 
 wig, let us be # by ourselves ! It is my desire 
 that even my brother should soon leave us ; 
 every third person, whether related by 
 blood or by the most intimate spiritual ties, 
 causes a separation, so that we do not have 
 exclusive possession of each other." 
 
 While she was speaking, she had placed 
 her hand on Clodwig's arm, and now she 
 
30 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 grasped bis hand and stroked it. As Clod- 
 wig went away, Bella looked after him, 
 shaking her head. 
 
 Bella came to the dinner-table hand- 
 somely dressed, and with a single rose in 
 her hair. The men appeared weary, but 
 she was extremely animated. She spoke a 
 great deal of the happiness she had always 
 had in being at the house of Eric's parents, 
 .where no ignoble word was ever uttered, 
 for the mother cherished every high thought, 
 like a priestess tending and feeding the 
 smallest flame of the ideal on the household 
 altar. Eric, who thought that he was proof 
 against any further excitement, experienced 
 a new and elevated emotion. 
 
 They drove out at noon, and Bella was 
 silent during the ride. They visited a for- 
 mer Roman encampment. Bella sat alone 
 under a tree, upon a covering spread upon 
 the ground, and the men walked about. 
 
 When they came together around the 
 evening lamp, Bella seemed like an entirely 
 different person, having for the third time, 
 that day, changed her dress. She was now 
 very lively. 
 
 Bella had never been, during her whole 
 life, dissatisfied with herself ; she had never 
 repented anything she had done, always 
 saying, You were fully justified, at the mo- 
 ment when you acted. She did not wish at 
 this time to appear in a false light to her 
 husband's favorite, or as a mere trifling 
 appendage ; Eric should know who she was, 
 that she was not only Clodwig's wife, but 
 over and above all, Bella von Pranken. 
 
 She was ready to play as soon as Clod- 
 wig expressed the wish to hear her. The 
 quick and eager haste with which she took 
 off her ringing and rattling bracelets, which 
 Eric at once with marked attentiveness re- 
 ceived from her hand and placed upon the 
 marble table under the mirror, — the man- 
 ner in which she poised her hands like two 
 fluttering pinions, and then brought them 
 down upon the keys, like a swimmer who is 
 in his element, — all served to show how 
 resolved she was to occupy no second place. 
 And never, since she had been Clodwig's 
 wife, had Bella played as she now did in 
 the presence of a third person, reserving 
 hitherto her masterly performance on the 
 piano for Clod wig alone. To-day her ex- 
 ecution displayed such zest ^nd skill that 
 Clodwig himself, who knew every peculiar 
 excellence in her method of playing, re- 
 ceived a new surprise and delight. 
 
 During a pause, Eric seemed to strike 
 the right key by remarking, that, after such 
 elevated enjoyment in the intercourse with 
 noble persons and in the wide survey of 
 unbounded nature, there is nothing for the 
 
 soul but to let the feelings dissolve and die 
 away in the unlimited and shoreless ethe- 
 real atmosphere of music. A realm of 
 waking dreams is then opened to us, a 
 feeling of the infinite is awakened, that 
 creates a something beyond what any word 
 or look can express, and which is never 
 unfolded by any sight or sound of nature 
 from the unfathomed and mysterious depths 
 of the human soul. As in answer to the 
 inquiry, what influence predominated in 
 him before composing, Mozart said, ' noth- 
 ing but music which would come out,' — 
 the pure musical impulse without any defi- 
 nite conception, without any limiting idea, 
 only a rhythmic, billowy undulation of 
 tones, — so it is that we, after the ten- 
 sion of thought and observation, through 
 music are admitted into that pure, unde- 
 fined, yet all-encompassing realm, which is 
 a chaos, but a chaos that is no longer 
 formless and void. 
 
 Bella, who sat reclining far back in a 
 large arm-chair, gazed at Eric in such rapt 
 wonder, that he dropt his eyes, unconsciously 
 fixed upon her. To the surprise of both 
 the men she suddenly rose, and bade them 
 good night. She first gave her hand to 
 Clodwig, then to Eric, and then to Clodwig 
 again, and quickly went out. 
 
 Clodwig remained only a short time with 
 his guest, and then he also took his leave. 
 Eric went, in a sort of ecstacy, to his cham- 
 ber. How rich was the world ! what a day 
 this had been from the dawn im the dewy 
 wood even until this moment ! and human 
 happiness was a reality ! Here were two 
 who had attained rest and blessedness, such 
 as could hardly be believed to exist in the 
 actual world. 
 
 While he was standing still upon the car- 
 peted stairs, from unconscious thoughts of 
 the rich house he was about to enter, and 
 conscious thoughts of the full and rounded 
 existence of his host and hostess, the ques- 
 tion suddenly occurred to him, Is this beau- 
 tiful life, this perfecting of the soul in an 
 extended view of nature, and its saturation 
 in all that is beautiful in science and art, 
 possible to wealth only, to freedom from 
 care and want, to emancipation from all 
 labor and from common needs ? 
 
 As, holding the light in his hand, he en- 
 tered the balcony chamber, he remained 
 standing terrified, as if a ghost had ap- 
 peared to him, before the bust of the 
 Medusa, which with open mouth fixed upon 
 him its overpowering and paralyzing gaze. 
 
 How is this ? how has this image so sud- 
 denly assumed this likeness ? Did Clodwig 
 have any suspicion of it? It was indeed 
 terrible. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 31 
 
 Eric turned about, and now, as if it were 
 some trick played upon him by an evil 
 spirit, the contrasted image also, the Victo- 
 ria, has a likeness to Bella when, silent and 
 quiet, she modestly and humbly bent down 
 her head. 
 
 Had Clodwig any suspicion of this won- 
 derful play of opposites, and did he not 
 acknowledge this, this morning when he 
 avowed his heresy to the received opinion ? 
 
 The pulse in Eric's temples beat vio- 
 lently. He put out the light, looked for a 
 long" time out into the dark night, and 
 sought to recall afresh to his recollection 
 the bright plenitude of the day's experience. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 FRAU ADVENTURE. 
 
 In the morning Eric put on his uniform, 
 for so Clodwig had advised with cautious 
 reference to a former experience. A horse 
 had been placed at his disposal, and his 
 portmanteau was to be sent after him. 
 
 Clodwig's contracted brow grew smooth 
 as the handsome, noble-looking young man 
 entered the parlor in his becoming uniform. 
 After greeting him, he pointed to Eric's 
 arm, saying : — 
 
 "Take off the crape before you go." 
 
 Eric looked at him surprised, and Clod- 
 wig explained himself. 
 
 " You are not to be sentimental, and you 
 must agree with me that it is not well to en- 
 ter, for the first time, a stranger's house, 
 wearing a badge of mourning. People 
 often desire a sympathy which they cannot 
 expect to receive. You will be less dis- 
 turbed in the end, if you impress it upon 
 yourself at first that you are entering ser- 
 vice, and moreover are to serve an extremely 
 rich man, who would like to keep every- 
 thing unpleasant out of sight. The more 
 you keep to yourself your own personal 
 feelings, the more free will you be." 
 
 Clodwig smiling quoted from Lucian's 
 " Sale of the Philosophic Sects," where the 
 Stoic as a slave cries out, "Even if I am 
 sold, I am still free within myself! " 
 
 Eric good-humoredly took the crape 
 from his sleeve. 
 
 Bella had excused herself from appearing 
 at breakfast, and sent Eric a message of 
 farewell till their next meeting. 
 
 The two men were now alone. Clodwig 
 gave Eric a letter for Herr Sonnenkamp, 
 but begged him not to make any positive 
 engagement until he had seen him again, 
 adding almost inaudibly, "Perhaps I shall 
 keep you for myself." 
 
 As a mother crams all the pockets of her 
 son going away from home, so Clodwig 
 
 sought to give his young friend all sorts of 
 instructions. 
 
 " I have but slight acquaintance with the 
 boy," said he ; "1 only know that he is very 
 handsome. Do you not agree with me that 
 it is a great mistake to give a young soul 
 the foundation principles which are to de- 
 termine his life-course, before this young 
 soul has collected the material of life or 
 knows his own tendencies ? " 
 
 "Certainly," replied Eric; "it is like 
 building railroads in uncultivated or half- 
 civilized countries, before roads have made 
 possible the interchange of agricultural and 
 manufactured products. The root of the 
 disease of modern humanity, as my father 
 often said, lies in the habit of teaching 
 children dogmatically the laws which govern 
 the universe ; it is a superfluous labor 
 based on ostentation, which is unfruitful, 
 because it leaps over the first steps." 
 
 Clodwig nodded several times. This 
 man might be trusted to sail out into the 
 open sea ; he would always have a compass 
 with him. 
 
 The time of departure came ; Clodwig 
 said, — 
 
 " I will go a little way with you." 
 
 Eric took his horse by the bridle, and 
 they walked on side by side. The old man 
 often fixed an anxious, affectionate look 
 upon his young friend. He repeated that 
 he considered it a highly honorable task 
 to train the young American for a useful 
 life ; then he advised him again to keep 
 this one object in view, and to turn reso- 
 lutely from all gossip concerning Herr 
 Sdnnenkamp, who had certainly left many 
 rumors uncontradicted, either because he 
 was too upright to trouble himself about 
 them, or because he preferred to have some 
 facts of his history hidden by false reports. 
 It was undoubtedly singular, that though he 
 was a German by birth, not a single relative 
 had ever been seen at his house ; probably, 
 however, he was of low origin, and helped 
 his relatives on condition that they should 
 have no intercourse with him ; Major Grass- 
 ier had hinted at something of that kind. 
 
 " One thing more," said Clodwig, stand- 
 ing still, " say nothing to Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp of your having for a short time devo- 
 ted yourself to the supervision of criminals. 
 I would cast no slur upon him, but many 
 men have an aversion to persons of such a 
 calling." 
 
 Eric thanked him, seeing clearly his ear- 
 nest desire to smooth the path before him. 
 
 j They went on in silence until Clodwig said, 
 " Here I will turn back, and let me give you 
 
 . one warning." 
 
 I "A warning?" 
 
32 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Perhaps that isn't the right word ; I only 
 want to say to you, make up your mind to 
 pass in the world for an enthusiast. A man 
 who seeks anything in life except profit, 
 pleasure, and honor, appears an enthusiast 
 to many people who have no sympathy 
 with such a predilection ; the world cannot 
 be just to such men, it must condemn them, 
 because it sees its own strivings condemned 
 by them. You will have to bear a martyr- 
 dom all your life long, if you remain true, 
 — and I believe you will ; bear it with a 
 proud self-respect, and remember that a 
 new, old friend understands you, and lives 
 your life with you. 11 
 
 Suddenly the old man laid his hands on 
 Eric's shoulders, kissed him, and walked 
 hastily away, without once turning. 
 
 Eric mounted and rode on ; as he turned 
 the corner of the wood, he looked back and 
 saw Clodwig standing still. Bella had 
 watched the pair from the balcony, which 
 commanded a view of their whole course ; 
 now she went to meet her husband, and 
 was not a little surprised to observe in his 
 face an emotion which she had never seen 
 there before ; he seemed to have been 
 weeping. 
 
 " You were right," said Clodwig hastily, 
 " it is better for us to remain by ourselves. 
 But I rejoice in this new generation which 
 differs from ours ; it wavers no longer be- 
 tween the two poles of enthusiasm and 
 despair ; it has, if I may so express it, a 
 sort of intellectual inspiration, and I be- 
 lieve it will bring more to pass than we 
 have. I am glad that I am not too old to 
 understand these young people born into 
 an age of railroads. I admire and love 
 this present age ; never before has every 
 man in every calling known so definitely 
 what he wishes and ought to do, both in 
 science and practical life. 11 
 
 Bella thought she must make some re- 
 ply, and said that young Sonnenkamp 
 would be fortunate to have such a guide. 
 
 "It pains me that he. must enter that 
 house." 
 
 " Yet you have recommended him." 
 
 "Yes, that's it exactly. One is pun- 
 ished sooner or later for undertaking any- 
 thing with half-sincerity or against his real 
 convictions. I have brought myself into 
 closer relations with this Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp, without really wishing it. In his 
 house I always have a feeling as if I were 
 in a family where horse-flesh is eaten. But, 
 good heavens ! it may be prejudice, custom ; 
 horse-flesh is also one kind of meat. But 
 now I am free from anxiety for the excel- 
 lent young man." 
 
 Clodwig seemed unable to cease talking 
 
 of Eric ; and as he recalled what had 
 passed, he was astonished at all that he had 
 learned from him in so short a time ; 
 pointing to an apple-tree in blossom, he 
 exclaimed: "Look at that tree in bloom, 
 which when shaken covers every one with 
 blossoms, and yet its richness is unim- 
 paired. Such is this Dournay." 
 
 Bella replied, that it must be a hard task 
 for a man who was so spoken and thought 
 of to live up to the standard expected of him. 
 
 " May not such pleasure in imparting," 
 she asked doubtfully, "bean exaggerated 
 self-esteem or pure vanity ? " 
 
 " O no ! this young man does not wish to 
 make a show ; he only wishes that no mo- 
 ment of existence may be utterly wasted. 
 He lets his active spirit work, and he must 
 take satisfaction in the notice and Sym- 
 pathy of others ; without this satisfaction, 
 the pleasure of imparting would be impos- 
 sible. That is the faith which removes 
 mountains of prejudice." 
 
 " Faith? 11 said Bella, smiling beforehand 
 at her own nice distinction, "it seems to 
 me. rather like the permanent embalming 
 of a want of faith." He very zealously en- 
 deavored to show how this was, rather, the 
 difficult and painful transmission of one's 
 life. 
 
 He spoke long and eagerly. Bella ap- 
 peared to listen, but hardly heard what he 
 said ; she smiled to herself at the old diplo- 
 matist, who had something incomprehensi- 
 bly child-like, almost childish, about him. 
 She threw her head back proudly, con- 
 scious of her inflexible virtue, which was 
 strongly armed even against her husband, 
 who wished to bring her into constant in- 
 tercourse with a young man so richly en- 
 dowed. 
 
 In the mean time Eric had ridden on 
 through the wood, filled with fresh anima- 
 tion by the happy chance which had befal- 
 len him. He took a firm hold of his horse's 
 bridle, full of that confident spirit to which 
 every undertaking seems sure of success, 
 or, at least, of only short and temporary 
 failure. He congratulated himself on the 
 good fortune that had helped him to win so 
 easily and entirely a man of refined char- 
 acter, who was evidently somewhat cau- 
 tiously reserved towards most men. 
 
 He had left his past life on the mountain 
 behind him, and a new one was beginning. 
 Smiling, he thought, The heroes of old 
 must have felt in my mood, when they 
 knew that they were under the protection 
 of one of the gods of Olympus. 
 
 At a turn in the wood he stopped, and, 
 taking Clodwig's unsealed letter from his 
 pocket, read as follows : 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OIST THE RHINE. 
 
 33 
 
 " A neighbor's greeting to Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp, at Villa Eden. 
 
 '* Had Fate granted me a son, I should 
 consider it as a completion of the great 
 blessing, to be able to give him this man as 
 a tutor. 
 
 "Clodwig, Count von Wolfsgarten. 
 
 WOLFSGARTEN CASTLE, May 4, 186-." 
 
 Eric set spurs to his horse, and rode 
 gaily on through the wood, where birds were 
 singing amid the fresh young leaves. As 
 he passed through the village, he saw at the 
 window of the Rath-haus, behind blooming 
 wall-flowers, a rosy, fair-haired maiden, 
 who drew back quickly as he bowed to her. 
 He would have liked to turn his head to 
 see whether she was looking after him, but 
 he did not venture to do so. 
 
 After a little while, it occurred to him 
 that he was very vain to believe that this 
 lingering behind the flowers concerned him 
 at all ; Lina had undoubtedly expected to 
 see Baron von Pranken, when she heard his 
 horse approaching. 
 
 Eric was now riding along the river-bank 
 in the valley. He was so full of cheerful- 
 ness, that songs rose to his lips as they had 
 not done for a long time ; he did not give 
 them voice, but sang them in his soul. The 
 whole fulness and variety of thought, per- 
 ception, and feeling were stirring in his 
 heart. As he saw the sun shining on the 
 glass dome of Villa Eden, it struck him like 
 a lightning flash, — 
 
 Why is such a free, delightful existence 
 denied me ? why must I labor in the ser- 
 vice of others ? Then came the thought, 
 But what should I do with such an indolent, 
 selfish life ? Then the riddle presented it- 
 self, How is one to educate a wealthy boy ? 
 
 And so strangely are thoughts associated 
 in the human mind that Eric felt, not that 
 he could solve this riddle, but that he could 
 understand how the ancients had repre- 
 sented the idea of enigmatical questioning 
 and the riddle under the form of the Sphinx. 
 
 Then again came the inquiry, How can 
 One educate a rich boy, who knows that an 
 estate like that, and untold wealth, are to 
 be his, and who sees no need for exertion 
 in the life before him ? 
 
 Eric had been looking down ; now he 
 threw back his head and smiled as he 
 thought, Neither pupil nor tutor is a mere 
 abstract idea ; both are living, variously en- 
 dowed beings. Such questions can receive 
 no general answer, and all riddles are like 
 stormy weather out of doors, that, seen 
 through the dim atmosphere from the shel- 
 ter of a house, seems intolerable, but once 
 out in the midst of it, one feels refreshed. 
 
 All his puzzling doubts and speculations 
 seemed cleared away, and he felt ready 
 armed to wrestle with the problem. " Come 
 on, riddle, I am ready for you," he said 
 almost aloud, and rode on at a quick trot. 
 
 In the midst of his doubts and thoughts a 
 pleasant smile suddenly spread over his 
 face. He wondered whether he were not 
 under some spell, and all the frolicsome 
 humor of youth came over him as he ut- 
 tered aloud a letter which he would write 
 to his mother. 
 
 "Dear Mother: 
 
 "You must let yourself be named Frau 
 Adventure, for your son, Doctor Adventure, 
 Captain Hero, in the midst of railway cars 
 and telegraphs, has fallen upon Dream-land, 
 where he is fed upon the sweet-bread of 
 praise, and the sugared almonds of protec- 
 tion, by a pair of spirits who watch over the 
 Holy Grail. He is now seated on a bay 
 horse, and has the magic word sesame of a 
 sage hermit, in his pocket, and all things 
 come at his bidding, and each says, " Heart, 
 what dost thou desire ? " Dear mother, if 
 you want a quiet little island, only say so ; 
 I have innumerable ones to dispose of. 
 
 " And there's a postscript, dear mother. 
 Suppose the millionaire, towards whom I 
 am riding, should be Uncle Adam ? That 
 would make the fairy tale complete." 
 
 At the thought that this fanciful conjec- 
 ture might be a probability, Eric stopped 
 short. Then he rode briskly along the 
 broad road, on each side of which grew 
 great nut-trees, dropping their caterpillar- 
 Kke blossoms on the path. The horse 
 trotted on bravely, his black mane flying in 
 the wind as the rider lifted his cap to. let 
 the fresh air cool his hot brow. 
 
34 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER I. 
 
 A MORNING IN EDEN. 
 
 The boats sail up and down the river, 
 the railway trains move on this side and on 
 that, and persons from all countries, and in 
 every relation of life, get refreshment from 
 the view. 
 
 There thou wouldst like to dwell, many 
 a one thinks, and to pass away thy days in 
 the regular and constant enjoyment of na- 
 ture, and in voluntary labor, solitary, or in 
 the society of congenial persons. 
 
 The banks of the Rhine have the appear- 
 ance of being charming seats of repose, 
 while they also furnish enough of stirring 
 life. The high-road of intercourse with the 
 world lies before the very threshold of the 
 house ; and from the midst of solitude, 
 every hour can unite itself with the great 
 world's varied and bustling activity. 
 
 Cheerful towns and villages along the 
 banks, with their castles and vineyards, 
 their beautiful and well-kept country-seats, 
 are everywhere seen, forming an almost 
 unbroken chain. 
 
 From town to town, and from house to 
 house, stories are narrated of the narrow 
 escapes of the inhabitants, who saved them- 
 selves with resolute strength from the in- 
 gulfing flood, or with the last energy of 
 despair reached the shore, many being 
 dashed with violence upon the bank. 
 
 He who comes an entire stranger from 
 abroad, and makes his home here, can feel 
 assured that it is at his option to cultivate 
 an acquaintance with the old residents, or 
 to remain by himself. The continual cur- 
 rent of strangers, coming and going, allows 
 him who remains to abide in complete iso- 
 lation. 
 
 Whose is that beautiful country-house 
 yonder, which looks to the passer-by, with 
 its tower gleaming from a distance, like a 
 white swan nestling in the green bank? 
 Travellers on the boats passing up and 
 down the river often ask this question, and 
 receive the reply, that the villa is called 
 Eden, and that it is a real Eden, as far as 
 one can judge from the outside, for it is all 
 shut up and guarded, with spring-guns and 
 steel traps the whole length of the garden 
 walls. The servants have permission to 
 show the house and park only when the 
 owner is away on a journey, and then they 
 take in a great deal of money. 
 
 One praises the wonderful stables with 
 marble mangers ; another, the hot-houses all 
 in bloom ; a third, the beautiful arrange- 
 ment of the interior of the house ; a fourth, 
 the fruit-garden and the park, each one ac- 
 
 cording to his own peculiar taste. The 
 owner is a rich American, who has built 
 this house, laid out the shady park, and 
 changed the half-swampy, ragged, and un- 
 even meadow, extending down to the river, 
 into a fruit-garden that bears fruits of a 
 size and beauty never before seen in this 
 region. He was rebuilding, too, the ruined 
 castle there on the height. 
 
 And what is the name of this man ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp. Almost all his servants 
 are foreigners ; he visits only a few persons 
 in the vicinity, and seldom receives any one 
 as a guest ; no one knows, indeed, who he 
 is, or what he is. He has the finest horses, 
 but he, his wife, and a female companion 
 drive and ride out together, only at some 
 convenient point to turn back again on the 
 public highway. 
 
 On the morning that Eric rode to the 
 villa, a large, thick carpet was laid by ser- 
 vants in morning livery on the west side 
 upon the extensive gravelled square. A 
 round table with green damask covering 
 was placed near a many-colored pyramid 
 of fragrant flowers, and on the table was 
 afterwards set a large, ground crystal vase, 
 with artistically arranged flowers and bou- 
 quets, and plates for four persons. 
 
 A side-table was placed near a blossom- 
 ing copse of laburnums and variegated 
 lilacs, and on it a large silver tea-urn with 
 lighted lamp. A thin vapor soon went up 
 from the urn. Two great rocking-chairs 
 were put in suitable places near by. 
 
 A young man who stood aside, taking no 
 part in the arrangement, looked out upon 
 the landscape, where one could enjoy a view 
 extending over the fruit-garden and the 
 fountain, in whose basin two pairs of swans 
 were swimming, over the meadows ; and 
 now he turned away from the prospect, in- 
 spected the preparations, and with the 
 words, "All right, 11 withdrew with the ser- 
 vants. The tea-urn steamed, and the chairs 
 and table seemed to be awaiting the com- 
 pany. 
 
 A pert finch alighted upon the back of 
 one of the rocking-chairs, and whistled to 
 his little mate in the trees : " that was a 
 fine set-out, and he would like, if he could, 
 to do the same for his little ones." 
 
 The forward, impudent young father was, 
 however, soon scared away, for at the sound 
 of approaching footsteps he started, and 
 carelessly flew directly over the hissing urn, 
 whose vapor seemed to scald him, and to 
 change his course, so that he almost grazed 
 the hat on the head of the man who now 
 came in. 
 
 The man limped a little with his right leg, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 35 
 
 but he knew how to disguise it so that this 
 limping toned down the formidable impres- 
 sion of his powerful, athletic frame. 
 
 He was a large, broad-shouldered man, 
 in a well-fitted summer suit, and a white 
 neck-cloth with a standing shirt-collar after 
 the English fashion. The man of Hercu- 
 lean frame seemed to do all he could to re- 
 duce, lessen, and soften the effect of it ; 
 but the finest garments could do this only 
 in a small degree. He wore a broad- 
 brimmed straw hat, so that at a short dis- 
 tance but little could be seen of his shaded 
 face. The young man who had superin- 
 tended the arrangements a short time be- 
 fore, bearing a large portfolio, followed the 
 strong man. The man in the straw hat had sat 
 down in the rocking-chair, which, together 
 with the portfolio, was made ready for him. 
 
 Removing the straw hat, which the valet 
 Joseph at once took, he stroked his smooth- 
 ly-shaven, prominent chin with his large, 
 fleshy hand, on whose thumb, strange to 
 say, was a ring like a single link of a chain, 
 a golden hoop with iron in the middle. 
 
 The man is Herr Sonnenkamp. His red- 
 dish face had deeply marked lines, and 
 over his broad brow a lock of gray hair was 
 combed down. There was a more than or- 
 dinary breadth between the bristling eye- 
 brows, giving to them the appearance of 
 having been forcibly rent asunder. Who- 
 ever saw this countenance once could never 
 forget it. 
 
 The deeply-set, light-blue eyes had an 
 expression of determination and shrewd- 
 ness ; the shoulders were broad and some- 
 what round ; the nose was large, but not 
 without a character of nobleness ; the 
 mouth was someAvhat curved with imperious 
 disdain. The whole countenance was worn 
 and anxious, but a domineering energy was 
 visible in all its traits. 
 
 The impression at the first was, that one 
 would not like to have this man for an 
 enemy. " Hand here,' 1 he now said, taking 
 out of his vest-pocket a ring on which were 
 suspended some very small keys. 
 
 Joseph held the portfolio in the most con- 
 venient position for Sonnenkamp to unlock, 
 and then took out the letters it contained. 
 Sonnenkamp speedily arranged them, plac- 
 ing together those with a foreign stamp, 
 and by the side of them a large pile having 
 an inland postage mark. Joseph now laid 
 down the hat and the portfolio upon the 
 empty rocking-chair, and with his ready 
 scissors cut every envelope. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp quickly ran over the 
 opened letters, and put them aside. He 
 only looked at the seal and address of some 
 of the inland ones, and directed that they 
 
 should be placed again in the portfolio ; he 
 put two of the foreign in his pocket, and, 
 placing the rest back with his own hand, 
 locked the portfolio. 
 
 The folding- doors of the terrace were 
 opened, and Herr Sonnenkamp rose, taking 
 from the chair his broad straw hat. Two 
 female forms appeared on the terrace. One, 
 tall, with a long, pale, sad face, wore a 
 morning cap with deep-red ribbons, and a 
 flaming red shawl ; the other was a small, 
 pretty figure, with sharp, bloodless features, 
 piercing brown eyes, and coal-black hair 
 lying flat upon the head ; she was one of 
 those countenances that have plainly never 
 been youthful, and to which advancing age 
 can do no harm. Her dress was of black 
 silk, and she had suspended from her neck 
 a mother-of-pearl cross that glistened and 
 shone upon her breast. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp had that American 
 trait, including in itself so much that is 
 good, of respectful courteousness and con- 
 siderate care toward his own household 
 and relatives ; he went to meet the two 
 ladies at the steps, nodded pleasantly to the 
 lady in black, and extending his hand to 
 the lady in the red shawl, asked in a kindly 
 tone after her health, using the English 
 language. 
 
 The lady, Frau Ceres, did not deem it 
 necessary to make any reply. She went to 
 her seat at the breakfast table, and a female 
 attendant immediately placed a shawl over 
 her lap, and a waiter pushed under her feet 
 a cushioned footstool. 
 
 The lady in black, Signora Boromea 
 Perini, went to the side-table, and took 
 with a spoon from the tea-canister, which a 
 servant held, the requisite measure of tea. 
 
 ' ' Where is Roland ?" inquired Frau Ceres, 
 in a listless tone. 
 
 "He will soon be here," answered Son- 
 nenkamp, and made a sign to have him sent 
 for. Fräulein Perini brought the first cup 
 to Frau Sonnenkamp, to whom it appeared 
 too great an exertion to pour in a couple 
 of drops of milk. ■ In a very subdued tone, 
 Herr Sonnenkamp asked, "Will you eat 
 anything, dear child ? " 
 
 Frau Ceres sipped a spoonful, then half a 
 one, and looked about, as if spent with the 
 effort. It seemed to be a burden to her to 
 be obliged to sip the tea herself. 
 
 " Where is Roland ? " she inquired again. 
 "It is inexcusable that he is so irregular. 
 Did you not say something, Madame 
 Perini ? " 
 
 "Nothing, my gracious lady." 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp remarked in a very 
 mild, pacifying tone, if she would endure it 
 patiently a little longer, Roland would re- 
 
36 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ceive, it was to be hoped, a tutor at last 
 who would bring him under the proper disci- 
 pline. He then spoke of the letter which 
 Otto von Tranken had written to him. At 
 the mention ol' this name, Fräulein Perini let 
 a biscuit fall into her cup, and busied her- 
 self in fishing it out again, while Sonnen- 
 kamp added that he should read no more 
 applications, until he had become ac- 
 quainted with the person recommended by 
 Herr von Pranken. 
 
 " Is the man one of the nobility ? " asked 
 Frau Ceres. 
 
 " I do not know, 11 replied Sonnenkamp, 
 though he did know very well ; "he is a 
 captain. 11 
 
 Frau Ceres, without saying anything, de- 
 termined within herself to wait until this 
 question of nobility was settled. 
 
 Fräulein Perini, feeling that she must speak 
 for Frau Ceres as if knowing what she 
 thought, looked at her smilingly and ob- 
 served, " One seldom meets with so perfect 
 a chevalier as the Baron von Pranken, at 
 least not in Germany ; even more than the 
 countess Bella he has 11 
 
 "I pray you, 11 Herr Sonnenkamp here 
 interposed, and his countenance had the 
 expression of a bull-dog trying to be ten- 
 der, "I pray you not to praise others at 
 the expense of the countess ; the ladies 
 are bewitched with Herr von Pranken, and 
 for my part, I am with the countess Bella. 11 
 
 Frau Ceres gave an almost imperceptible 
 shrug of the shoulders, and held the gold 
 spoon pressed to her lips. He boasts of 
 being fascinated, she rightly thought, and 
 it is only for the sake of making a compli- 
 mentary speech. 
 
 " But where can Roland be ?" she sudden- 
 ly exclaimed, and pushed against the foot- 
 stool so that the table shook, and everything 
 upon it rattled. 
 
 The servant, entering, said that Roland 
 would not come to breakfast, as he did not 
 wish to eat anything to-day, but to remain 
 with Nora, who had five puppies. 
 
 " Then tell him, 1 ' rejoined Sonnenkamp, 
 and his countenance flushed a dark red 
 even to the roots of his thin hair, — " then 
 tell him that if he does not instantly come, 
 I will have all the five young ones imme- 
 diately drowned in the Rhine. 11 
 
 The servant hastened out, and a beauti- 
 ful youth, clothed in blue velvet, soon made 
 his appearance ; he was pale, and his finely 
 cut lip quivered. He had evidently gone 
 through a hard struggle. 
 
 The boy was tall and slender, and his 
 features were strikingly beautiful, .delicately 
 regular as if chiselled. He took off his 
 
 jockey-cap, and showed his dark brown 
 hair, well arranged in thick curls about his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Come to me," said his mother, " and 
 kiss me, Roland, you look so pale ; is any- 
 thing the matter with you ? 11 
 
 The boy kissed his mother, and, shaking 
 his head as if denying that anything ailed 
 him, said in a voice hovering between a 
 falsetto and a bass, "I am as well as my 
 young dogs. 11 
 
 A deep color dyed his cheeks, and his 
 lips became purple. 
 
 " I do not wish to punish you on the day 
 that you receive your tutor, 11 said Sonnen- 
 kamp, casting a glance toward his wife. 
 
 "I? a tutor again? no tutor for me," 
 replied the boy; "and if you give me one, 
 I will soon make him take his leave." 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled. This bold, defiant 
 attitude of the boy seemed specially to de- 
 light him. When Roland, who had just de- 
 clined all food, ate now heartily, his mother 
 followed his example ; in the satisfaction of 
 knowing that her son had so good an ap- 
 petite, she also found one, so that Fräu- 
 lein Perini could not refrain from remark- 
 ing to Roland, — 
 
 " See, Master Roland, how on your dear 
 mother's account you should come regularly 
 at meal-time, for she can only taste food 
 when you also partake of it." 
 
 The boy gave Fräulein Perini a peculiar 
 look, but made no reply ; there seemed to 
 be no good understanding between the boy 
 and the companion of his mother. Fräu- 
 lein Perini, however, showed her friendli- 
 ness toward the boy, promising to pay a 
 visit with him to the young dogs after 
 breakfast. 
 
 " Do you know why dogs are born 
 blind ? 11 asked Roland. 
 
 " Because God has so ordained it." 
 
 " But why has God ordained it ? " 
 
 Fräulein Perini looked puzzled at this 
 question, and Herr Sonnenkamp came to 
 her help, saying that he who was continually 
 asking the reason why would never accom- 
 plish anything, and that Roland had fallen 
 into this way of constant questioning, be- 
 cause he was not willing to learn anything 
 thoroughly. 
 
 Thelboy looked down. A certain sullen- 
 ness or dulness, perhaps both, appeared 
 in the expression of his face. 
 
 Frau Ceres left the breakfast table, seated 
 herself in a rocking-chair, and contemplated 
 her long, delicate, almond-shaped nails. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp told her what a num- 
 ber of letters in German, French, and Eng- 
 lish he had received in answer to his ad- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 37 
 
 vertisement; the candidates had generally 
 enclosed their photographs, and rightly, for 
 personal appearance was significant. 
 
 Frau Ceres listened like one who is sleepy, 
 sometimes closing her eyes. When Son- 
 nenkamp remarked how much misery there 
 was in the world, a constant looking for a 
 perfect success, to which every man believes 
 that money is the one thing needful, she 
 threw upon him a sidelong glance of sur- 
 prise, apparently not comprehending how 
 any one could live, and be destitute of 
 means. 
 
 Fräulein Perini, the companion, was a 
 useful mediator ; she knew how, while Frau 
 Ceres remained apparently or really quite 
 inattentive, to keep up the conversation 
 with short questions, or remarks, as she 
 occasionally looked up from her embroidery 
 and cast a glance, the real convent glance, 
 shy but benignant, upon Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 In this way Frau Ceres could listen, without 
 exerting herself to join in the conversation. 
 
 Fräulein Perini seemed to serve Herr 
 Sonnenkamp as a person upon whom he 
 could practice politeness ; and they stood 
 in the most courteous relation to each other. 
 He would, in fact, have been glad to dis- 
 miss her long before, but she was fastened 
 upon him like the rheumatism-ring which 
 he wore on his left thumb. 
 
 Frau Ceres was always carefully waited 
 upon by Fraulein Perini ; never alone, she 
 had a constant companion and attendant, 
 and when they drove out, Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp always left the seat next his wife to 
 Fräulein Perini, riding backwards himself. 
 He could not be rid of her, and it was best 
 to treat her with polite consideration. Be- 
 sides, she had many excellent qualities, and 
 best of all, no whims ; she was always 
 even-tempered, never put herself forward, 
 and always had an opinion, which generally 
 was one that caused no discussion. She 
 never appeared offended ; if she was over- 
 looked, she seemed not to notice it ; or if 
 drawn into conversation, she was agreea- 
 ble, and even witty ; she was always ready 
 to help, to do for and to meet others, and 
 never talked of herself. 
 
 Every morning, summer and winter, she 
 went to church, and was always in order, 
 as if ready for a journey at an hour's no- 
 tice ; she knew where everything was in 
 the house, and was never in the way in 
 travelling. She was always busy with em- 
 broidery, and there was no church for 
 miles around which had not an altar-cloth, 
 or some part of the decoration, of her 
 work. 
 
 She spoke all the continental languages 
 with ease : except German, which she said 
 
 she never could learn. Sonnenkamp was 
 convinced, however, that she understood 
 it perfectly, and that her want of compre- 
 hension was only a mask whose object it 
 was easy to see. 
 
 Her relations with Roland were pecu- 
 liarly distant. She treated him as the 
 young master of the house, but concerned 
 herself no further about him, even declin- 
 ing his father's proposal that she should in- 
 struct him in the languages. She never 
 stepped out of the circle that appeared 
 marked out for her ; after being Manna's 
 governess, she became wholly and exclus- 
 ively the companion of Frau Ceres ; and 
 this was a most safe and honorable posi- 
 tion. 
 
 The more Herr Sonnenkamp spoke of 
 the recommendation of Herr von Pranken, 
 so much the more attentive Fräulein Perini 
 seemed to become, but she did not utter a 
 single word ; but when Herr Sonnenkamp 
 asked her what^had been her feelings when 
 she was first introduced to the family at 
 Nice, she answered, " I had the happiness 
 to be introduced to you by my noble 
 guardian, the Dean." 
 
 Roland was impatient and beckoned to 
 Fräulein Perini to go with him : but Son- 
 nenkamp requested her to remain with the 
 mother, and in order to manifest some 
 sympathy in his son's joy, he himself ac- 
 companied him. 
 
 Roland was the only one whom the dog 
 allowed to come near her ; and when Herr 
 Sonnenkamp ventured it, she growled, and 
 snapped at him with her teeth. He was 
 very angry, but he restrained himself and 
 went away. 
 
 Roland brought his cross-bow and shot 
 at the doves and sparrows in the court- 
 yard. Suddenly the boy left off. A horse- 
 man, with horse well in hand, galloped up 
 to the gate. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE ARROW CAUGHT. 
 
 " Shoot away, my boy, I'll catch the ar- 
 row ! " the rider called from his horse, and 
 the boy stood still, as if he had seen a mir- 
 acle. Eric had heard much of Roland's 
 beauty, but he was astonished at the charm- 
 ing grace of his figure. The boy's whole 
 being seemed strained with amazement and 
 excitement, like the bow which he held bent 
 in his hand. The rider feasted his eyes on 
 the picture. Roland's head was bare, his 
 jockey-cap lay near him on a great dog 
 resting at his feet, and jijst raising his head 
 as if to ask whether he should start up and 
 drive the stranger away. 
 
3$ 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Shoot away ! Eire ! " cried the rider, 
 in a commanding tone. " Have you no cour- 
 age P " 
 
 The arrow whizzed from the bow, the 
 rider bent sideways and caught it with a 
 sure hand. 
 
 " Either you are a bad marksman, or you 
 tried not to hit me ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Astounded and motionless, with his bow 
 lowered, the boy gazed at him while he was 
 approaching and dismounting, and then 
 asked, — 
 
 " Can you be the hero Siegfried ? n 
 
 " Ah ! then you know about him," replied 
 Eric, gaily. " No, my young friend." He 
 offered his hand to Roland, who seized it. 
 
 " Hero Siegfried wore no uniform with a 
 red collar. But now help me to dispose of 
 my horse." 
 
 "It is like one of Count Wolfsgarten's 
 horses." 
 
 " It is his." 
 
 " Ivan ! " shouted the boy. 
 
 A groom appeared and led the horse to 
 the stable. As Eric and Roland followed, 
 they heard from behind a partition near by 
 a whining, and a weak attempt at barking. 
 
 " You have some young St. Bernard dogs 
 close by," said Eric. 
 
 " Yes ; do you know them by their whim- 
 per ? " 
 
 ' ' I can't tell the particular breed in that 
 way. I saw a St. Bernard dog out there in 
 the court ; but I know by the sound that 
 these puppies are blind and not a week 
 old." 
 
 The boy looked at Eric as if he were a 
 magician ; he opened a door, but begged 
 him to go no nearer, because the mother 
 was very savage, and was just then suckling 
 all the five young ones. Eric did approach 
 her, however, and she looked at him without 
 growling, and again the boy gazed at the 
 stranger in astonishment. 
 
 " You can certainly tell me why dogs are 
 born blind." he began. 
 
 Eric smiled. A boy who asks questions 
 is desirous of instruction and ready for it ; 
 it is only necessary to put things before 
 him which will lead him to question. 
 
 "Not only dogs," replied Eric, "but 
 cats, eagles, and hawks come into the world 
 blind. It may be that those animals which 
 need sharp eyes for their support and pro- 
 tection have a gradual development of the 
 power of sight, so that they do not see the 
 light, as the saying is, all at once. Man 
 even, though he opens his eyes at his birth, 
 has no real power of sight at first ; he has to 
 learn to see during his first year. Man, 
 like the brute, learns to use his limbs in his 
 
 earliest years, but one thing the brute want», 
 
 he can never acquire articulate speech." 
 
 A thrill passed over the boy as he listened 
 to the stranger, whose words again had a 
 tone of strangely magnetic power. In the 
 excited state in which Eric had been for 
 two days, and which reached its height at 
 this moment, it seemed to him as if he were 
 acting out a fairy tale, or one of those dreams 
 in which one says to himself, in the wonder 
 of the dream-life, " Wake up, you are cer- 
 tainly dreaming ! " There was something 
 which gave him a sense of being merely a 
 spectator of his own life, though he knew 
 that he was actually living it. He com- 
 pelled himself to collect his thoughts, and 
 said at last, — 
 
 "You are the son of Herr Sonnenkamp, 
 are you not ? and your name is Roland ? " 
 
 " Roland Franklin Sonnenkamp ; what is 
 yours ? " 
 
 " Eric Dournay." 
 
 The boy started ; he thought he had heard 
 the name within a few days, but was not 
 quite sure. 
 
 "You are a Captain of Artillery, sir?" 
 said he, pointing to the uniform. 
 
 " I have been. Then you know the dif- 
 ferent uniforms, my boy." 
 
 " Yes ; but Herr von Pranken doesn't 
 speak to me so familiarly." 
 
 " I think we had better both keep up the 
 familiar manner that we began with," an- 
 swered Eric, holding out his hand to the boy. 
 Roland's hand was cold, all his blood had 
 rushed to his head. The boy was surprised 
 and taken captive in spite of himself. 
 
 "If you like," he began again, "you can 
 have one of my puppies. Two I mean to 
 keep ; one I shall bring up for my sister 
 Manna ; Baron von Pranken is to have the 
 fourth, and you may have the fifth." 
 
 His face beaming with satisfaction, Eric 
 looked at the boy ; this pleasure in giving 
 showed that there was something good to 
 build upon. 
 
 "Perhaps you know that in Homer the 
 host does honor to a guest by bestowing 
 some gift as a token of remembrance." 
 
 " I know nothing about Homer." 
 
 " Have none of your tutors told you any- 
 thing of him ? " 
 
 " All of them. They made a great talk 
 about him, but it's stupid." 
 
 Eric led the conversation back, and asked, 
 " Who helps you train the dogs ? " 
 
 " One who knows all about it, the hunts- 
 man Klaus, whom they call the screamer; 
 he will be pleased when I tell him that you 
 knew how old the puppies were by their 
 whimper." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 Eric nodded. A boy like this might 
 easily be guided to knowledge, if one could 
 once get the lead. 
 
 Eric now asked Roland to conduct him 
 to his father. As they were about to leave 
 the stable, a snow-white pony with long 
 mane turned his head quite round and 
 neigt ad. 
 
 "lhat is my Puck," said Roland. He 
 was evidently very happy in showing the 
 stranger all his treasures, almost like a 
 little child who displays a toy for the won- 
 der of his playmate. Eric could not but 
 praise the beautiful creature, which looked 
 at him with great, wild, shy eyes. 
 
 He took the boy's hand, and they went 
 together through the large botanical gar- 
 den. 
 
 " Do you know about plants too ? " asked 
 Roland. 
 
 " No, I'm quite ignorant about them." 
 
 "So am I," said the boy, delighted; 
 Eric's acknowledgment of an ignorance 
 which coincided with his own seemed to 
 bring them nearer to each other. 
 
 They passed over a plat where men were 
 weeding and putting the ground in order. 
 A little old man, with a shy but shrewd look, 
 was at work ; he took off his cap, and said 
 good-morning. " Have you seen my fath- 
 er? "asked Roland. "He is over there," 
 replied the little man, pointing toward the 
 green-houses. 
 
 The long green-houses, constructed of pale- 
 blue glass, came in sight. A door stood 
 open, within which a fountain was to be 
 seen, in whose gray marble basin lay blocks 
 of stone with water plants growing in all 
 their crevices. Some of the trees which 
 needed protection from the winter were 
 still here, and a few which did not thrive 
 had thick wrappings on trunk and branches. 
 
 They heard a voice. "There he is in 
 the cold-house," said Roland. Eric told 
 him to turn back now, as he had something 
 to say to his father alone. 
 
 The boy stood as if rooted to the spot. 
 In Eric's manner of ordering him to go, 
 there was an air of such irresistible author- 
 ity that he did not know what to make 
 of it. 
 
 As Eric went forward, the boy stood motion- 
 less, then turned, snapped his fingers, and 
 whistled to himself. 
 
 Drawing a long breath, Eric stopped a 
 moment to collect himself. What if this 
 boy were related to him by blood, and he 
 were to find here his missing uncle ? Walk- 
 ing slowly and composedly, he entered the 
 open door of the green-house. 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE FLAG IS HOISTED. 
 
 "Who's there? what do you want?" 
 was asked by a form as it raised itself up 
 from a bed of black earth. A coarse, gray, 
 sacklike linen garment covered the form 
 from head to foot ; it was like that worn by 
 convicts, or rather, by the insane. 
 
 "What do you want? who are you? 
 whom do you wish to see ? " the man again 
 asked. 
 
 " I wish to see Herr Sonnenkamp." 
 " What do you want of him ? " 
 "I would like to introduce myself to 
 him." 
 
 " I am he. Who are you ? " 
 
 " My name is Eric Dournay. Herr von 
 Pranken had the kindness, day before yes- 
 terday, to — " 
 
 "Ah! are you the man?" Sonnenkamp 
 replied, drawing a long breath. With 
 trembling hands he unfastened the linen 
 sack which he wore over his coat, saying, 
 with a forced smile, "You have surprised 
 me in my working-garb." 
 
 Rolling the sack together, and tossing it 
 away, he said, "Was no servant at hand? 
 Do you always wear a uniform ? " 
 
 . It was the uniform then that gave him 
 such a start, thought Eric. And, on look- 
 ing at the man, he was sure that he could 
 not be his uncle. The likeness of his miss- 
 ing uncle, which still hung in his father's 
 study, was present to his mind ; it repre- 
 sented him as a slim, delicate form, with a 
 very prominent aquiline nose, and no trace 
 of resemblance to this athletic personage 
 before his eyes. 
 
 " I am very sorry for having disturbed 
 you," Eric resumed, convinced that the 
 first impression had been an unfavorable 
 one. "I beg you indeed to excuse me," 
 he stammered out ; " the Count von Wolfs- 
 garten, whose guest I have been, and from 
 whom I bring to you a letter of recom- 
 mendation, has — " 
 
 "A letter from Count Wolfsgarten? 
 Very welcome. I am very glad to see 
 youj" replied Sonnenkamp, taking the let- 
 ter. 
 
 "We have met very unexpectedly — 
 there was no reason for suspecting — preju- 
 dice as men — I mean — constraint — " 
 
 Sonnenkamp's tone had wholly changed ; 
 it had become gentle, kind, almost tenderly 
 beseeching. 
 
 He hastily ran his eye over the lines writ- 
 ten by Clodwig, and then said in a low 
 tone, — 
 
40 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " I am very glad, — very welcome." 
 
 Looking up from the letter, he made a 
 sort of bow to Eric, and, as if sure of ac- 
 quiescence, remarked, 44 a nobleman — just 
 what a nobleman ought to be — is the Count 
 Wolfsgarten. Do you stand as high in 
 favor with the Countess Bella ? " 
 
 There was a touch of sarcasm in the 
 tone of this last question. 
 
 Eric answered with an unmoved tone and 
 look, 44 I am happy to enjoy equally the fa- 
 vor of husband and wife." 
 
 44 Fine, very fine," Sonnenkamp resumed. 
 " But let us go out into the open air. Are 
 you a botanist too? " 
 
 Eric regretted that he had always neglected 
 to extend his knowledge in this direction. 
 
 Out in the open air, Sonn^nkamp again 
 surveyed the new-comer from head to foot. 
 Eric now for the first time noticed, that 
 wholly forgetting his military attire, he had 
 taken off his cap. And when he perceived 
 the look with which he was surveyed, he 
 realised what was the meaning of private 
 service, to give up one's self with his whole 
 personal being to the dominion of an indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 In Sonnenkamp's survey there was some- 
 thing which made Eric feel as if he were in 
 a slave-market ; and when Sonnenkamp 
 stretched out his hand with a peculiar ges- 
 ture, it seemed as if he were about to take 
 hold of his chin, open his lips, and examine 
 whether his teeth were all sound. 
 
 Eric shook his head at this strange fancy, 
 and proudly stood erect, feeling that he 
 must maintain his own ground steadily in 
 the presence of this man. 
 
 Sonnenkamp immediately gave orders to 
 a servant near by to get breakfast ready at 
 the fountain. 
 
 "Did you come on horseback?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Count Wolfsgarten was kind enough to 
 furnish me with a horse." 
 
 44 You have already spoken with my 
 son?" 
 
 44 Yes." 
 
 44 1 am glad that you came in uniform," 
 Sonnenkamp said, making no further in- 
 quiries of Eric what he thought of the boy. 
 
 As if Eric were only a distinguished, 
 well-recommended visitor, Sonnenkamp now 
 exhibited to him the object of his greatest 
 pride. This was a perfect collection of 
 heaths, such as is rarely to be found. He 
 discoursed upon the nice distinctions in the 
 different varieties, and added: 44 1 have 
 been where the greater part of these heaths 
 originated, the table-land of the Cape of 
 Good Hope." 
 
 44 1 am sorry," said Eric, 44 that my 
 mother is not here, for she would take 
 great delight in this magnificent display." 
 
 44 Is your mother a botanist ? " 
 
 44 Our botanical professor used to boast 
 of her proficiency; but she takes great 
 pains to avoid every appearance of being a 
 blue-stocking. It must be very difficult to 
 keep together these productions of different 
 climates." 
 
 44 Very difficult indeed. These Ericas 
 require, at the same time, a regular tem- 
 perature and a uniform moisture. You 
 may often have noticed how some little 
 heath-plant with its delicate blooms, which 
 is sent to a lady for a flower-stand, be- 
 comes dry and brittle after a few days. 
 This little plant will not endure the dry at- 
 mosphere of a room." 
 
 Sonnenkamp suddenly stopped, and smiled 
 to himself. This stranger professed only an 
 ordinary degree of knowledge in order to be 
 agreeable, and to let the rich proprietor 
 branch out and be eloquent about his dar- 
 ling hobby. I can't be taken by such 
 coarse bait, thought Sonnenkamp. 44 Will 
 you be so good as to put this tub from the 
 stand upon the ground?" he said, pointing 
 to a very large Erica. 
 
 A momentary glance made Sonnenkamp 
 aware that Eric understood well enough 
 that the motive was to find out whether he 
 knew how to make himself serviceable, and 
 how to keep a humble position. 
 
 Eric complied very readily with the re- 
 quest, but Sonnenkamp had immediately 
 made up his mind, in spite of Clodwig's 
 warm recommendation, not to receive this 
 man into his house. 
 
 He had two reasons. The stranger had 
 seen him, as no other person could ever 
 boast, utterly thrown off his balance, and 
 must therefore be removed from his sight ; 
 now it appeared that he must maintain 
 a respectful demeanor, which was rather 
 irksome. 
 
 He would, in the meanwhile, show to one 
 so well-recommended every respectful at- 
 tention. He took pleasure in thinking how 
 he would test the man in all points, allow 
 him to unfold himself in the consciousness 
 of a certainty of being employed, and then 
 dismiss him without assigning any reason 
 for doing so. 
 
 All this passed through Sonnenkamp's 
 thoughts while he was turning round to lock 
 the green-house door. The thing was as 
 surely and as firmly fixed in his mind as the 
 door was surely and firmly locked. 
 
 44 Do you speak English?" he asked, see- 
 ing his wife still sitting in the rocking-chair : 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 41 
 
 she had taken off the red shawl, and as she I 
 sat there, her satin dress had a rich golden 
 lustre. 
 
 " Captain, Doctor, I beg your pardon, 
 what name ? " said Sonnenkamp, in intro- 
 ducing him. 
 
 " Dournay." 
 
 Frau Ceres gave a hardly perceptible 
 nod, and, as if there were no one else pres- 
 ent, said in a peevish tone to her husband, 
 that he paid no attention to her, and had 
 not said a single word to her about her new 
 dress. Sonnenkamp stood wholly at a loss 
 to know what was the meaning of this un- 
 expected sally of his wife. Did she think it 
 was a mark of high-breeding to show the 
 stranger such a degree of indifference ? She 
 was not diplomatic enough for that. He 
 turned, and as if apologising, remarked to 
 Eric that his wife loved gay colors. 
 
 In a tone of strict truth, Eric replied that 
 he entirely coincided with the gracious lady ; 
 that gay colors were in keeping with ex- 
 ternal nature ; and that people ought to be 
 sunny and bright like the flowers. 
 
 Frau Ceres smiled at this friendly turn, 
 and Eric continued in the same strain, that 
 it was a lamentable effect of the style of 
 conversation employed in society, that the 
 expression even of a truth should be re- 
 garded as mere civility and flattery, when- 
 ever it struck pleasantly upon the ear ; that 
 words were deprived of their real meaning, 
 and people accustomed themselves to ad- 
 vance ideas which neither the speaker nor 
 the hearer actually believed ; that our man- 
 ner of talking in society was like a card of 
 invitation to an evening party, in which 
 eight o'clock was specified as the hour, 
 
 I when half past nine was meant ; and he 
 who went at eight only brought the hosts 
 into a dilemma. 
 
 Frau Ceres looked from Eric to her hus- 
 band, and from her husband to Eric, and as 
 no one said anything, Eric continued, briefly 
 pointing out how colors in dress harmonised 
 with the natural environment. But he soon 
 perceived that he was going too far in this 
 exposition, and he added that the attire of 
 ladies approached nearer to the ethereal 
 bright plumage of the birds. 
 
 His mother now beckoned to Roland, who 
 appeared in the distance. He pointed to 
 the summit of the tower. The mother 
 looked up and smiled ; and the father also 
 smiled when he saw the flag of the Ameri- 
 can Union floating from its top. 
 
 " Who did that? " asked Sonnenkamp. 
 " I," Roland answered, with a joyous 
 smile. 
 
 "What is it for?" 
 
 The boy's visage changed, and he cast a 
 side-glance toward Eric. 
 
 Sonnenkamp screwed his under lip be- 
 tween his thumb and fore-finger into a half- 
 circle, and nodded silently. 
 
 Eric had noticed the boy's glance, and 
 his heart beat for joy. He asked the boy, 
 
 " Are you very proud of being an Amer- 
 ican ? " 
 "Yes." 
 
 Eric was introduced to Fräulein Perini 
 as she came up to them ; grasping the 
 mother-of-pearl cross with her left hand, 
 she made a very ceremonious courtesy. 
 Frau Ceres requested her to go with her to 
 the house. Sonnenkamp, Eric, and Roland 
 remained by themselves. 
 
42 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE BUYER EXAMINES WHAT IS OFFERED. 
 
 " Give me your hand, Roland, 1 ' said Eric. 
 The boy gave it, looking up trustingly and 
 joyfully. 
 
 "My young friend," Eric added, "I 
 thank you for that testimony of respect 
 waving yonder ; but now leave us, for 
 your lather wishes to speak with me. 11 
 
 Father and son looked in amazement at 
 the man who was giving his orders in such 
 a free and easy manner. The boy departed, 
 Eric nodding to him. again. 
 
 After the two men were left by them- 
 selves, for a while no word was spoken. 
 Herr Sonnenkamp, who always carried his 
 cigars loose in his pocket, offered Eric a 
 large, black, broken one, which he accepted 
 and lighted from the match Sonnenkamp 
 held out to him, without taking it into his 
 own hand. 
 
 After drawing a few whiffs, he said, — 
 "You will certainly agree with me, that it 
 is an impolite politeness for any one to in- 
 sist on taking the lighted match into his own 
 hand ; between this giving and taking, one 
 generally burns his fingers. 1 ' 
 
 However insignificant this remark, it 
 served for a beginning. Herr Sonnenkamp 
 leaned back in his chair, held the cigar- 
 smoke for a long time in his mouth, and 
 then blew it out in perfect rings, which, as 
 they floated in the air, grew larger and 
 larger until they vanished. 
 
 " You have great influence over the boy," 
 he said, after a while. 
 
 " I think that the attraction is mutual, 
 and this makes me hope that I might suc- 
 ceed as the boy^ tutor. Only love can ed- 
 ucate, as love only can create and form. 
 An artist who does not love his calling can 
 never truly create. There are, indeed, 
 many who love a child because they give 
 him instruction ; but I can instruct only one 
 whom I love." 
 
 " Fine, very fine, — noble. But Roland 
 needs a strict hand." 
 
 "Love does not exclude but rather in- 
 cludes strictness ; he who loves requires 
 perfection in himself, as well as in the object 
 of his love, and makes the highest demands. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded in a very friendly, 
 even kindly manner ; but there was a sort 
 of sneer upon his countenance, as looking 
 /down to the ground and placing both hands 
 upon his knees, he said : — 
 
 "We will speak now about personal mat- 
 ters ; for things of that sort we will find time 
 by and by. You are a ? " 
 
 "Philologist by profession; but I have 
 devoted myself, by preference, to practical 
 education." 
 
 " I know that, — I know that," Sonnen- 
 kamp said, still looking down as he spoke. 
 
 "I should like to knoAv something about 
 your personal history." 
 
 He did not look up, and Eric was deeply 
 pained at the thought of being obliged again 
 to become his own biographer. He felt like 
 a man who speaks to a sober and cool lis- 
 tener after drinking with a set of boon com- 
 panions. He had unfolded himself freely 
 and spontaneously to Clodwig, the day be- 
 fore ; and to-day he must do it in order to 
 recommend himself to a purchaser. And 
 so it is ! The seller must always say more, 
 and expatiate more upon his goods, than 
 the buyer. Wealth was a tyrannical power 
 exhibiting itself under an entirely new form. 
 
 Eric, looking at the back of the man's 
 head, and at his broad neck, — for not a 
 glance was vouchsafed him, — very soon 
 lost all sensitiveness as to his position of 
 b # eing a seeker after employment. He was 
 not the receiver, but the giver. A tone of 
 self-respect breathed in the words which he 
 now uttered : — 
 
 " I .offer you my free labor." 
 
 On hearing this, Sonnenkamp threw up 
 his head quickly without changing his posi- 
 tion, cast a rapid glance upon the speaker, 
 and let his head immediately drop again. 
 
 " I mean," continued Eric, " that I offer 
 to you and to your son all that I am, and 
 all the knowledge and science that I have 
 made my own hitherto. I look for no other 
 reward than the free unfolding of my own 
 activity ; and I have the feeling of freedom 
 in doing this, since whatever I may accom- 
 plish I accomplish also for myself, in bring- 
 ing that actually to pass which I have striven 
 after, and which I have laid down as a theo- 
 retical demand." 
 
 " I know what free labor is," Sonnen- 
 kamp said, looking towards the ground. 
 Then sitting upright, he added with a smil- 
 ing countenance : — 
 
 "You are not dealing with a man of 
 learning. I think we shall come sooner to 
 terms, if you will regard me as a common- 
 sense man who only wants to know the 
 plain matter-of-fact." 
 
 "I had hoped," Eric replied, "that the 
 introduction of Count von Wolfsgarten — " 
 
 "I esteem highly the Count von Wolfs- 
 garten, more highly than I do any one else ; 
 but — " 
 
 "You are right; I will give you a per- 
 sonal explanation," Eric interrupted 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 43 
 
 Was it the cigar, or was it the painful 
 position in which he felt himself placed, 
 that caused the sweat to start out upon 
 Eric's forehead ? At any rate, he laid the 
 cigar down, and perceiving with a sort of 
 surprise that he was wearing his uniform, 
 began to explain again that he had put it 
 on, for that day, because Count Wolfsgar- 
 ten had advised him to do so. 
 
 Sonnenkamp again sat up wholly erect, 
 feeling himself completely fortified against 
 this man, who, an entire stranger, had 
 taken possession of his house, his wife, his 
 son, and thought even to domineer over 
 him, and make him a stranger in his own 
 home. He would let the applicant talk till 
 he was tired. 
 
 " Go on, captain," he exclaimed, laying 
 his right hand with the fingers crooked up- 
 on the table, and then drawing it back again, 
 as if he had deposited a stake at play. 
 
 Eric had now become master of all his 
 powers, and in a tone of cheerful good hu- 
 mor, began in a wholly different style : — 
 
 "Excuse a scholar for not throwing off 
 his scholastic method. In the old poems, 
 before the hero enters upon his career, the 
 parents are described ; and although I 
 am no hero, and what I have to unfold is no 
 record of personal prowess, yet allow me 
 to give a preliminary account of my father 
 and mother." 
 
 Eric once more gave a brief and concise 
 sketch of his life. Mindful of Clodwig's 
 advice not to say anything about his fancied 
 mission to educate convicts, an incident oc- 
 curred to him, which he had, in an incom- 
 prehensible way, wholly passed over before. 
 He gave an account of his once having had 
 charge of a powder-mill. " I was driven 
 away by a revolting expression of my em- 
 ployer. From some cause never yet ex- 
 plained, the mill blew up, and four men 
 were killed. But what said my employer 
 when he reached the spot ? Not one word 
 of pity for the lost men, but * that it was a 
 shame for so much good powder to be lost.' " 
 
 "What was the man's name?" asked 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Eric gave one of the most distinguished 
 names of the principality, and was not a 
 little surprised to hear Sonnenkamp say, 
 " A wonderful man, — influential and pow- j 
 erful." 
 
 Eric found it difficult to continue his nar- 
 rative with composure after this incident, 
 and ended by saying, — 
 
 " I beg that you will not regard me as a 
 weak, restless person, for having so often 
 changed my calling." 
 
 " On the contrary," Sonnenkamp de- 
 clared, " I have had experience enough 
 
 both in the old and new world, to teach me 
 that the most capable people are just those 
 who determine for themselves upon their 
 employment. Whoever changes his calling 
 must do so either from some external ne- 
 cessity, or from real fitness for something 
 else. Allow me to ask one question. Do 
 you believe it possible for a man who un- 
 dertakes, compelled by want or because he 
 can find nothing better to do, some employ- 
 ment, I do not like to call it a service, but 
 a dependent position — you know what I 
 mean, but I am not familiar with the Ger- 
 man — is it possible for him to devote him- 
 self heartily to that occupation ? Will he 
 not always feel himself bound, under obli- 
 gation to serve, and often ill at ease ? " 
 
 " Your frank objection," Eric replied, 
 " does me great honor. I know well that 
 the calling of an educator requires to be 
 made supreme, from morning until night. 
 Nothing can be more desirable to me than 
 to perceive that you are as deeply interested 
 in the matter as I could wish." 
 
 Again a peculiar expression darted across 
 j Sonnenkamp's countenance ; but Eric, with- 
 out appearing to perceive it, continued, in a 
 voice full of emotion,- "It is not because I 
 can find nothing better to do that I apply 
 for the position of tutor in your family. I 
 agree with you, that he who takes such a 
 place merely from necessity can never fulfil 
 its duties, although I do not mean to assert, 
 and unconditionally, that inclination may not 
 be developed, or as we say, that one may 
 not maTce a virtue out of necessity. My 
 knowledge is not great, but I have learned 
 what one must do in order to learn, and 
 therefore I think that I am able also to in- 
 struct. As far as earnest sincerity of pur- 
 pose is concerned, I will yield to no one ; 
 and so far as I can judge, I venture to say, 
 that were I placed in the most favorable 
 circumstances, I would enter upon the call- 
 ing of an educator in a spirit of freedom, 
 with joyful zeal." 
 
 "Right honorable, right honorable! go 
 on ! " Sonnenkamp interposed in such a tone 
 that Eric was somewhat confounded, hearing 
 as he yet did, in a measure, the echo of his 
 own earnest utterance, now so strangely in- 
 terrupted. In a sort of triumphant tone, 
 j Sonnenkamp continued : — 
 
 " An amateur is all very well ; but I pre- 
 fer a man with a profession." 
 
 " I am entirely of the same opinion," 
 Eric answered; "and I am amazed at the 
 good results practically secured in the new 
 world, by adopting a different course." 
 With constrained calmness he continued, — 
 "In regard to this matter, I have only 
 one desire, and only one request to make." 
 
44 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 44 And that is?" 
 
 Sonnenkamp again placed his hand upon 
 the table as if he were laying down a stake 
 at play. 
 
 44 I should like that you would not find it 
 
 disagreeable to consider me at first, for 
 some days, a guest in your house." 
 
 Eric said nothing more, hoping that Son- 
 nenkamp would answer at once in the af- 
 firmative ; but he cracked in two, abruptly, 
 a cigar which he had just lighted, and which 
 did not seem to draw freely, and threw it 
 away into the shrubbery. His face became 
 red again, and a mocking smile played upon 
 his lips, as he thought: "Very confident 
 indeed ! This young man imagines that if 
 he can only get a lodgment for a few days, 
 he can so bewitch every one that he will be 
 deemed indispensable. We shall see ! " 
 
 As he maintained a persistent silence, 
 Eric said : — 
 
 " It would be desirable as well for you 
 as for me, before making a permanent agree- 
 ment, to know more of each other ; and I 
 especially desire this on Roland's account." 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled, and watched two 
 butterflies chasing each other, hardly giving 
 any attention to Eric as he went on to 
 state, that the boy seemed to him in one re- 
 spect too mature, and in another not ma- 
 ture enough to be made acquainted with 
 the selection of a tutor, and perhaps to 
 have a voice in it ; therefore he must first 
 know him as a guest in the house, and after- 
 wards as his tutor ; also it was his own de- 
 sire that Roland should not know that his 
 tutor received pay in money, or at least, 
 should not know the amount. 
 
 At the word money, Sonnenkamp seemed 
 to come out of his butterfly-gazing. 
 
 44 What sum would you demand ? " asked 
 he, putting into his mouth a fresh cigar that 
 he had held for some time in his hand. Eric 
 replied that it was not for him, but for the 
 father, to determine that. 
 
 Sonnenkamp brought his cigar to a glow 
 with a few violent whiffs, and with great 
 unction declared how well he knew that no 
 sum was large enough to compensate ade- 
 quately the painstaking duties of education 
 and instruction. 
 
 Then leaning back in his chair, crossing 
 his legs, and holding on to his left leg with 
 the right hand, manifestly well satisfied with 
 this declaration of his noble sentiments, he 
 said, — 
 
 44 Would you be willing to give me an 
 exposition in a few words of the principles 
 and method you must employ in the train- 
 ing of my son ? " 
 
 44 The method to be marked out in any 
 particular case, the course I should adopt 
 
 in actual instruction, I myself do not as yet 
 know." 
 
 44 What! you yourself not even know 
 that ? " 
 
 44 1 must take my method from Roland 
 himself, for it must be adapted to the pu- 
 pil's natural characteristics. Let me take 
 an illustration from your own surroundings. 
 You see here the river. The boatmen have 
 sounded the bottom, and knowing where 
 the shoal-banks are, keep well clear of 
 them. So must I, first of all,* fathom, in 
 the peculiar sense of that word, the depths 
 of Roland's nature." 
 
 Eric looking up continued : — 
 
 44 Or let me take a yet more pertinent il- 
 lustration. If you see that your servants, 
 in going from the house to the servants 1 
 quarters, take by preference a short cut 
 over a grass-plot artistically measured and 
 laid out, you will, if it is possible, give in 
 to this beaten track, and not obstinately ad- 
 here to your artificial plan, however correct 
 it may be, and however much in conformity 
 with the principles of landscape-gardening. 
 You will adopt this natural foot-path as a 
 part of your plan. This is the method ad- 
 apted to circumstances. Such thorough- 
 fares are found also in human beings." 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled ; he had, in fact, 
 tried very hard, by means of stringent pro- 
 hibitions, to keep a bed of shrubbery in 
 the middle of the court-yard free from foot- 
 passengers, and finally had laid out a path- 
 way through it. 
 
 44 Agreed as to the method, but how 
 about the principles ? " He smiled with self- 
 satisfaction, for he perceived how nice a dis- 
 tinction he had drawn. The man had made 
 him conscious that, in an intellectual strug- 
 gle, he had here no mean antagonist. 
 
 44 Here I must take a wider range," re- 
 sumed Eric. 44 The great contest, which 
 runs through the history of humanity and 
 the whole of human life, shows itself in the 
 most direct way in the training of one hu- 
 man being by another; for here the two 
 elementary forces confront each other as 
 living personalities. I may briefly desig- 
 nate them as individuality and authority, 
 or historic civilization and nature." 
 
 44 I understand — I understand, go on ! " 
 was thrown in encouragingly by Sonnen- 
 kamp, when Eric paused for a moment, anx- 
 ious not to get lost in generalities. 
 
 44 The educator is necessarily the repre- 
 sentative of authority, and the pupil is a 
 personality by the very endowment of na- 
 ture," resumed Eric. 4 4 There is continually 
 then a balance to be adjusted between the 
 two, a treaty of peace to be made between 
 the contending forces, which shall at last 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 45 
 
 become a real reconciliation. To train one 
 merely as an individual is to place a child 
 of humanity outside of actual existence, 
 and for the sake of freedom to isolate him 
 from the common life, and make it burden- 
 some to him ; to subject him merely to pre- 
 scribed laws is to rob him of his inborn 
 rights. The human beim* is a law to him- 
 Belf, but he is also born into a system of 
 laws. It was the great mistake of Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau, and the French Revolu- 
 tion, that in their indignation at the tradi- 
 tions contradictory to reason, they thought 
 that an individual and an age could develop 
 everything from themselves. A child of 
 humanity neither contains all within himself, 
 nor can he receive all from without. I 
 think then that there is a mingling of the 
 two elements, and there must be an hourly 
 and an imperceptible influence exerted 
 both from within and from without equally, 
 inasmuch as man is a product of nature and 
 a product of history. It is through the last, 
 only, that man is distinguished from the 
 beasts, and becomes an heir of all the labors 
 and all the strength of the past generations.' 1 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded acquiescingly. His 
 whole mien said, This man lays down very 
 aptly what he heard yesterday from the lec- 
 turer's desk ; and Eric continued, — 
 
 "Man alone comes into an inheritance, 
 and an inheritance is the heaviest human re- 
 sponsibility." 
 
 " That is something new tome. I should 
 like to ask for a fuller explanation." 
 
 ' ' Permit me to illustrate : the beast receives 
 from nature, from birth, nothing except its 
 individual strength and its stationary in- 
 stinctive capacity, while the human being 
 receives from his progenitors and from hu- 
 manity a superadded strength which he has 
 not in himself, but of which he becomes pos- 
 sessor, and so he is the only inheritor. And 
 let me say further, that it is difficult to de- 
 cide whether it is harder to turn to good ad- 
 vantage that which a man is in himself, or 
 that which he may receive, as for example 
 your son will, as an inheritance. Most per- 
 sons are of account only through what they 
 possess. I consider this last of no trifling 
 importance, but — " 
 
 " Wealth is no sin, and poverty is no vir- 
 tue," Sonnenkamp interrupted. "I admit 
 the depth and fineness of your perception 
 in all this. I confess it in new to me, and I 
 think that you have taken the right view. 
 But whether, in the education of one indi- 
 vidual boy, you shall find occasion for such 
 great fundamental principles — " 
 
 " While engaged in the work of instruc- 
 tion," Eric quietly replied, " I shall not be 
 likely to have directly before my eyes uni- 
 
 versal principles, as everything must be de- 
 veloped from its own basis. While one is 
 loading, aiming, and firing off a musket, he 
 does not define to himself the various phy- 
 sical laws that come into play, but he must 
 know them in order to proceed in the right 
 way." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was rather tired of this dis- 
 cussion ; it was somewhat out of his line, 
 and he had the unpleasant consciousness, 
 that while trying to make an impression 
 upon the stranger, he had himself been 
 made to appear infinitely small. 
 
 "Pardon, gracious sir,'' a groom inter- 
 posed, as Eric was beginning to expatiate 
 anew. Sonnenkamp stood up hastily, and 
 remarking that it was time for his ride, 
 with affable condescension he waived 
 with his hand the discussion to some other 
 time. 
 
 He went quickly away. Roland came 
 along the path, and" called out, — 
 
 " I may ride out with Herr Dournay, may 
 I not, papa ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded, and departed with 
 a hurried step. He mounted on horseback, 
 and was soon to be seen riding a spirited 
 black horse along the white high-road by 
 the river. He made an imposing appear- 
 ance as he sat on horse-back ; the groom 
 followed him. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A NEW PATRON AND A NEW TUTOR. 
 
 By Roland's direction his own pony had 
 been saddled, and also a horse for Eric. 
 They mounted, and rode slowly through a 
 part of the village which joined the estate. 
 At the very end of it stood a small vine-cov- 
 ered house, with all the window-shutters 
 closed. Eric asked who owned it, and why it 
 was shut up. Roland told him that it belonged 
 to his father, and that the architect, who 
 built the villa, had lived there, and some- 
 times his father also, when he came from 
 Switzerland or Italy during the building of 
 the house, or the laying out of the park and 
 garden. 
 
 " Now for a good trot," said Eric ; " take 
 vour bridle more firmly in your left hand. 
 Now ! " 
 
 They started briskly, keeping side by 
 side, but suddenly Eric's horse shied and 
 began to rear. Roland uttered a cry, but 
 Eric reassured him, saying, " I'll conquer 
 him ; " he drew his feet from the stirrups, 
 and rode off at such a pace that the horse 
 was soon covered with foam and quite sub- 
 missive ; then he rode back to Roland, who 
 was waiting for him in anxiety. 
 
40 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Why did you throw off the stirrups ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Because I didn't want to hang by them 
 if the horse fell backwards. 11 
 
 They rode on quietly near each other. 
 Eric asked : — 
 
 " Which do you like best, to have some 
 fixed object for your ride, or simply to go 
 over a certain distance, and then turn 
 back ? » 
 
 Roland looked puzzled. 
 
 " Didn't you understand my question ? " 
 
 " Yes, perfectly." 
 
 " And what do you think ? " 
 
 " I like to have some object, a visit to 
 pay, at the end of my ride." 
 
 " I thought you would say so." 
 
 " Only think," said Roland, " they say I 
 must have another tutor." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " But I won't." 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " I want to get away from home and go 
 to a military school ! Why should Manna 
 go to the convent ? They always say that 
 my mother can't eat unless I am wilrii her, 
 but she'll have to eat when I'm an officer." 
 
 " Then you want to be an officer? " 
 
 " Yes, what else should I be? " 
 
 Eric was silent. 
 
 " Are you a nobleman ? " asked the boy, 
 after a muse. 
 " No." 
 
 " Shouldn't you like to become one ? " 
 
 " We cannot make ourselves noblemen." 
 
 The boy played with his horse's long 
 mane ; glancing back, he saw that the flag 
 had been lowered from the tower. He 
 pointed it out to Eric, saying haughtily that 
 he should hoist it again. His tine, deli- 
 cately cut, bi>t pale face gained strength and 
 color as it lost itis weary look, and assumed 
 a daring expression. 
 
 Without noticing his domineering man- 
 ner, Eric said how much he liked Roland's 
 pride in being an American. 
 
 " You are the first person in Germany 
 who has commended it," cried the boy joy- 
 fully. " Herr von Pranken and Fräulein 
 Perini are always ridiculing America ; you 
 are the only man, — but I beg your pardon, 
 I ought not to be talking so familiarly to 
 you." 
 
 "Put away that notion; we want to be 
 good friends." 
 
 The boy held out his hand, and Eric 
 pressed it warmly. 
 
 "See, our horses are good friends too," 
 said Roland. " Have you many horses at 
 home?" 
 
 "No, not any; I am poor." 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to be rich ? " 
 
 " Certainly, wealth is a great power." 
 
 Roland looked at him in surprise ; none 
 of his tutors had said that to him ; they had 
 all represented wealth as a temptation and 
 a vanity, or had extolled it for the sake of 
 flattering him. 
 
 After some time, in which the boy was 
 evidently thinking about Eric, he said, 
 " Are you French, like your name ? " 
 
 " No, I am a German, but my ancestors 
 were French emigrants. How old were 
 you when you came to Europe? " 
 
 " Four." 
 
 "Have you any recollection of America?" 
 
 " No, but Manna has. I can only re- 
 member a song which a negro used to hum, 
 but I can't quite recall it, and nobody can 
 sing it to me." 
 
 As they rode up the mountain, the little 
 man, whom they had seen at work in the 
 garden, stood aside to -let them pass, and 
 greeted them respectfully. They drew up, 
 and Roland asked Nicholas, as the dwarf 
 was called, why he was going home so early. 
 
 The little man replied that he was going 
 home now at noon, and then into the wood 
 to get some of the new earth which Herr 
 Sonnenkamp had found. Up in the wood 
 was a spring which contained iron, and 
 Herr Sonnenkamp had dug down and found 
 the earth also impregnated with iron. In 
 this earth he had planted hydrangeas, and 
 the flesh-colored flowers had changed to 
 sky-blue. 
 
 The little man could not express all his 
 wonder at Herr Sonnenkamp, who knew 
 everything, and how to turn everything to 
 account ; it was no wonder that he had 
 grown so rich, while stupid men might go 
 all over the world, where millions were to 
 be had, without ever knowing it. 
 
 But the little man took especial delight 
 in telling them of a simple device of his 
 master, who always mixed juniper leaves 
 with the earth where he planted seeds of 
 fruit-trees, and in that way kept away 
 worms and mice. 
 
 As they rode on, Eric expressed his ad- 
 miration for a man, who, like a second Co- 
 lumbus, was still making new discoveries 
 in a world which seemed already explored 
 and parcelled out. His readiness to appre- 
 ciate, from a single example, Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp's greatness in this direction made Ro- 
 land draw himself up in his stirrups, struck 
 with surprise as he thought of the subject. 
 He had never before heard his father so 
 praised. 
 
 "Is there no one in the neighborhood 
 whom you would like to call upon ? " " No 
 — or — yes, the major — but he is now at 
 the castle. But up there in the village the 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 47 
 
 huntsman Claus lives, he has our dogs — 
 — will you go with me to see him ? I must 
 let him know how Nora's puppies are ; he 
 was with me an hour before you came." 
 
 Eric readily assented, and they trotted up 
 the gentle ascent, turned into a side path, 
 and dismounted before a small cottage. 
 Dogs of various kinds came round them and 
 jumped upon Roland ; Puck also seemed to 
 have friends ; be played with a brown badg- 
 er-dog. An old man came out of the house 
 and touched his cap with a military salute. 
 He wore the short, light-gray cotton jacket 
 which is the easy and comfortable every- 
 day dress of the country people along the 
 Rhine, and he was smoking a clay pipe, on 
 which a sort of Ascension of Napoleon was 
 painted in glaring colors. 
 
 The tone and manner with which Roland 
 presented his new friend to the huntsman, 
 showed that he knew how to take an impe- 
 rious tone toward his inferiors. 
 
 " Off with your cap," said he to the scream- 
 er ; " only think, the captain knew by their 
 whimper how old and of what breed Nora's 
 puppies were, before he had seen them." 
 
 " Yes, one can do that," replied the 
 screamer in a very loud voice, " one can do 
 that. Dogs have their own peculiar whine 
 and bark, according as they belong to a 
 knowing or a stupid race ; and stupid peo- 
 ple, too, cry and complain quite differently 
 lrom smart ones." 
 
 He cast a pleased glance upon Eric, and 
 held his pipe in his hand for some time. 
 
 "You are right," said Eric. " I see you 
 have had much experience and reflection." 
 
 " May be so," answered the huntsman. 
 
 He led the way into his house, and when 
 Eric asked what saint it was whose picture 
 hung on the wall, he replied, laughing, — 
 
 "That is my only saint, it is Saint 
 Rochus of the mountain yonder, and I 
 like him because he has a dog with him." 
 
 There were many bird-cages in the room, 
 and such a twittering and confused singing, 
 that one could hardly hear himself speak. 
 The old man was very happy in explaining 
 to Eric how he taught birds that lived on 
 beetles and caterpillars to eat seeds, and 
 how he got maggots and weevils also, and 
 he complained of Roland's want of interest in 
 the feathered tribe. 
 
 "No, I dont like birds," the boy de- 
 clared. 
 
 " And I know why," said Eric. 
 
 " Do you ? why then ? " 
 
 " You have no pleasure in the free-flying 
 creatures which you cannot make your own, 
 and you don't like them imprisoned either. 
 You like dogs beeause they are free and 
 yet cling to us." 
 
 The dog-trainer nodded to Eric, as if to 
 say, " You've struck the nail on the head." 
 
 " Yes, I do like you ! " cried Roland, who 
 had two young spaniels in his lap, while the 
 mother stood by and rubbed her head 
 against his side, and the other dogs crowded 
 round. 
 
 "Envy and jealousy," said Eric, "are 
 striking characteristics of dogs. As soon 
 as a man caresses one, all the rest want to 
 share the favor." 
 
 "There's one that doesn't trouble him- 
 self about it," said the trainer, laughing. 
 
 In the corner lay a small brown dog, that 
 only blinked at them occasionally. Eric 
 remarked that it must be a fox-hound, to 
 judge from its appearance. 
 
 "Right, he understands dogs!" cried 
 the screamer, turning to Roland. " You are 
 right ! I got that fellow out of a fox-hole, 
 and he is and always will be an unfaithful 
 and ungrateful beast, who is not to be 
 trusted ; do what you will for him, he is 
 never thankful nor affectionate. " 
 
 The dog in the corner just opened his 
 eyes and shut them again, as if he didn't 
 disturb himself about the talk of men. 
 
 Roland showed Eric his ferrets, which 
 seemed to know him as he took them out 
 of the cage. He pointed out a bright yel- 
 low one, as an especially cunning, tough 
 rascal ; he had given him the name of 
 Buchanan. The name of the other he 
 would not tell ; it was really Knopf, but 
 now he only said that he called him Master 
 of Arts, because he always considered so 
 long before he went into a hole, and moved 
 his lips as if he were delivering a lecture. 
 
 They went into the garden, and the 
 huntsman showed Eric his bee-hives. Turning 
 to Roland, he said, — 
 
 "Yes, Roland, your father's flowers are 
 good for my bees, if the poor little crea- 
 tures didn't have to fly so far down to reach 
 your garden. I let my cattle feed in other 
 men's pastures, and the world hasn't yet got 
 so far that rich men can forbid poor men's" 
 bees to suck honey from their flowers." 
 
 A sharp glance shot from his eyes as he 
 said this, which expressed the whole rank- 
 ling hostility of the poor towards the rich. 
 The keeper complained that Sonnenkamp 
 cherished so many nightingales, which cer- 
 tainly sang beautifully, but robbed the bees 
 of their honey, and even ate the bees with 
 the honey. The nightingale, which men 
 prize so highly, is a cruel murderer of bees. 
 
 " Yes," answered Eric, " the nightingales 
 do not know that the bees give honey, and 
 we cannot blame the birds for considering 
 them as plagues for whose destruction men 
 will be grateful. However, they do not 
 
48 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 cat them altogether for our sakes but their 
 own." 
 
 The screamer looked first at Eric, then at 
 Roland, and nodded as if saying, " Yes, 
 yes, that's quite another thing." 
 
 Roland now asked how far Griffin had 
 been broken in. The reply was, that he 
 would now run at the man, but he was still 
 too wild, and his leap not quite regular, 
 but he was beginning to seize hold. Ro- 
 land desired to see him do it ; but the day- 
 laborer, who allowed himself to be experi- 
 mented upon in that way, was not at home. 
 Roland said that the dwarf was at home, 
 and he would be ready to do it. He him- 
 self went after the dwarf. 
 
 Alter Roland had gone, the huntsman, 
 Claus, hastily grasped Eric's hand, saying, 
 " I will help you to catch him, and I can 
 give the fellow slick into your hand." 
 
 Eric gazed in utter astonishment at the 
 old man, who proceeded to inform him that 
 he understood very well what he had come 
 for, and whoever knew how could make 
 out of Roland a proper man. He signified 
 by a very sly wink that Eric would some 
 day be exceedingly grateful to him, if he 
 should help him out. 
 
 Before Eric could make any reply, Ro- 
 land came back with the dwarf, who allowed 
 a pillow to be fastened over his shoulders, 
 and stationed himself at the garden-fence, 
 holding fast by the palings with both hands. 
 A large Newfoundland dog was let out of a 
 kennel, and sprang about awkwardly in all 
 directions, but at a whistle from the keeper 
 stationed himself behind him. 
 
 The keeper now called out, "Griffin! 
 catch him ! At him ! " 
 
 With a bound the dog leaped through the 
 garden at the dwarf standing by the fence, 
 jumped upon him, bit into the pillow, tugged 
 at him until he fell over, and then placed 
 his right fore-foot upon his breast, looking 
 back at his master. 
 
 "Bravo! bravo! You see he is a real 
 devil ! " 
 
 "You are right!" exclaimed Roland. 
 "Devil! that's just the name — Devil he 
 shall be called. Now they will be afraid of 
 me all over the neighborhood." 
 
 Eric was shocked at this insolent bravado 
 as well as at the off-hand application of the 
 idea. He appealed to the trainer whether 
 a dog's name ought to be changed who had 
 already cut all his teeth. 
 
 " Certainly not," asserted the man ; "a 
 dog whose name is changed don't know 
 when he is called." 
 
 "And besides," added Eric, "it is 
 wholly wrong to give a dog such a name. 
 A dog's name ought to have an a in it, and 
 
 have only one syllable ; the letter a can be 
 called aloud very easily." 
 
 " You are a great scholar ; I never heard 
 of the like before ; you know everything ;" 
 the screamer went on in high commendation, 
 winking at the same time merrily, and with 
 half-sidelong glances. 
 
 Devil — for Roland persisted in giving 
 the dog this name — would not come away 
 from the dwarf, prostrate on the ground, 
 although both Roland and the trainer called 
 to him repeatedly. That was not a part of 
 his lesson. He held on until the trainer 
 showed his whip. 
 
 Roland gave the dwarf a piece of money, 
 for which he was very abjectly grateful, 
 and only wished that he might be thrown 
 down in that way three times every day by 
 the dog. Eric looked on meditatively. 
 How was this rich youth to be made to 
 learn to love, labor for, and influence the 
 world which so laid itself at his feet ? 
 
 When the two left the cottage, the trainer 
 escorted them a part of the way, followed 
 by a whole pack of dogs. They led their 
 horses by the bridle, and the trainer, keep- 
 ing exclusively by the side of Eric, made 
 an ostentatious display of his whole stock 
 of wisdom concerning the training of dogs. 
 The huntsman considered himself infinitely 
 clever, and all learned men stupid. 
 
 He seemed also to wish, in a sly way, 
 to instruct Eric, when he said to him that 
 as soon as a dog can stand without stum- 
 bling over his own legs, a beginning could 
 be made. And it was an all-important 
 thing not to say much to a dog, but to use 
 short, simple words . such as " go ! " " come ! " 
 " here ! " but never any long speeches ; and 
 one must not make much of him, but leave 
 him to himself for whole days ; and if he 
 wished to make friends, not to mind it, for 
 if one gives too much attention to a dog he 
 becomes troublesome ; and any one whom 
 a dog is to respect must not be found want- 
 ing at the hunt, especially when the dog is 
 taken out for the first time ; if one has shot 
 any game that the dog can fetch, he will be 
 faithful and true, but if one misses, he ac- 
 quires no respect, and never gains over the 
 dog. 
 
 1 ' Do you know Herr Knopf? " the screamer 
 asked abruptly. Eric answered in the neg- 
 ative. 
 
 " Yes ; Herr Knopf," said the screamer, 
 " has told me a hundred times, that all the 
 school-masters ought to be under my tui- 
 tion. Dogs and human beings are just 
 alike. But the dogs are the more faithful 
 beasts, and let themselves be broken in, 
 and bite only when the master orders them 
 to." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 49 
 
 Eric looked at the man in astonishment ; 
 there was in him an inexplicable bitterness, 
 and this man was the boy's friend. He re- 
 turned to their former topic, and the screamer 
 chuckled when he said that beasts acquire 
 something of the understanding of the men 
 they are with. 
 
 The huntsman was very merry, and when 
 they were about to separate, on reaching the 
 level ground, he took Roland aside, and 
 said to him : — 
 
 f* Thou blustering fellow! all thy ramrod 
 priests and school-masters have been of no 
 account. That would be the man! Thy 
 father ought to buy such a man as that, and 
 then something might be made of thee. 
 But all your money can't get him ! " 
 
 The screamer said this ostensibly to Roland 
 alone, but Eric was also to hear it, for he 
 must know that he ought to be grateful to 
 him. 
 
 Just as they mounted, the huntsman said 
 further, — 
 
 **. Do you know that your father is buy- 
 ing up the whole mountain ? Cursed ac- 
 cumulation ! Your father is buying the 
 whole Pfaffen-street." At the same time, 
 pointing to the far extending wide-spread 
 Rhineland, he said, — 
 
 "In a hundred years, not one hand- 
 breadth of all those vineyards will belong 
 to those who rake and dig there. Must 
 that be ? Can that be allowed ? " 
 
 A brisk trot carried them back to the 
 villa ; Eric had made up his mind ; at the 
 very moment when Eric had said to him- 
 self, "It is your duty not to abandon the 
 boy," he saw in the garden, near the small 
 vine-embowered house, a female form which 
 vanished round the corner. 
 
 Had he really seen his mother, or had 
 she been only present to his imagination ? 
 
 Quicker than one can compute, the idea 
 was formed in his mind, that here his 
 mother and his aunt were to dwell; this 
 house with its little garden, its dwarf-trees, 
 and its beautiful prospect was made ready 
 for her. 
 
 " Did you see a woman there in the gar- 
 den ? " he asked Roland. 
 
 " Yes, it was Fräulein Milch. 
 " Who is Fräulein Milch?" 
 " The Major's housekeeper." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BREAD OF SERVICE AND THE BLESS- 
 ING OF THE HUGUENOT. 
 
 When Eric and Roland returned from 
 their ride, they learned that Herr von 
 Pranken had arrived. Eric's portmanteau 
 had also been carried to his room. The 
 valet, Joseph, introduced himself as the 
 
 son of the Professor of Anatomy's servant, 
 and he mentioned, with perceptible emo- 
 tions of gratitude, that Eric's father had 
 given him a French Grammar, out of which 
 he had learned by heart French phrases, 
 in his spare moments at the Academic bil- 
 liard-saloon, where he had been an attend- 
 ant. He had there laid the foundation of his 
 present prosperity, and he expressed his 
 satisfaction at being able to thank the son 
 of his benefactor. 
 
 Joseph helped Eric in his arrangements, 
 and gave him information concerning the 
 habits of the household ; according to these, 
 the next thing to be done was, that each 
 one, before dinner, which was regarded as 
 a sort of festive occasion, should repair in 
 full dress to the pleasure-ground in sum- 
 mer, and in spring to Nice, — as that part of 
 the covered walk on the terrace was called 
 which had the best exposure to the sun. 
 
 Eric laid aside his uniform ; he entered 
 the covered walk, and there found Pranken 
 and Fräulein Perini promenading up and 
 down together. Pranken approached Eric 
 with a bland smile that flickered upon his 
 face, disappearing as quickly as it came. 
 In the consciousness of his rank and his 
 social position, he could afford a perfect 
 courteousness of demeanor, in which even 
 a certain degree of geniality might be ob- 
 served. With a bow he again took a posi- 
 tion by the side of Fräulein Perini, and 
 continued his previous promenade and con- 
 versation with her. 
 
 Eric stood- apart, and the admonition 
 that he, as one in service, must not be sen- 
 sitive, struggled with his pride. But it 
 might be regarded as very considerate in 
 Pranken, that he did not ask how it fared 
 with his application for the position of tutor. 
 
 Roland now entered in full dress, and 
 the boy was amazed to see Eric in citizen's 
 clothes. Eric asked him, " Is your sister's 
 name Manna ? " 
 
 "Yes; Hermanna, in fact, but she is 
 always called Manna. Have you ever 
 heard of her ? " 
 
 Eric had not time to reply that he had 
 heard that name frequently mentioned by 
 Pranken and Fräulein Perini, for Sonnen- 
 kamp entered in a black dress-coat, white 
 neck-tie, and irreproachable yellow gloves. 
 He was very gracious to everybody, one 
 might say appetizing in his manner, as if 
 he would say, " I hope you will all enjoy 
 your dinner." Never was Sonnenkamp in 
 a more cheerful mood, never more buoy- 
 ant, than during the quarter of an hour be- 
 fore dinner. 
 
 They went into the dining-saloon, a cool, 
 square, vaulted room, lighted from the 
 I roof. 
 
50 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 The carved oak furniture here was very- 
 massive. A large side-board, set out with 
 beautiful antique vessels and Venetian 
 glasses, displayed the rich silver plate. 
 The whole neighborhood said that Herr 
 Sonnenkainp ate out of golden plates ; but 
 this was a gossiping story. 
 
 They waited a few minutes in the dining- 
 room until the folding-doors opened, when 
 two servants in the coffee-colored livery of 
 the house stood like guards, one on each 
 side, and Frau Ceres, like a princess, 
 stepped between them. At the threshold 
 she courtesied somewhat stiffly ; and Prank- 
 en, coming forward, conducted her to the 
 table. A servant was stationed near each 
 person, and drew back the chair whilst he 
 took his seat ; Fräulein Perini stood up be- 
 hind her chair and leaned her arms upon the 
 back, held the mother-of-pearl cross in her 
 folded hands, said a prayer, made the sign 
 of the cross, and sat down. 
 
 Frau Ceres, during the dinner, retained 
 her yellow gloves, scarcely tasting any food, 
 and appearing as if she had come to the ta- 
 ble merely not to derange the order of 
 things. She declined every dish, until Herr 
 Sonnenkamp said : — 
 
 " Do take something., dear child, do, I 
 pray you." 
 
 In his manner, in making this request, 
 there was a double tone, hard to be dis- 
 tinguished separately. Sometimes it sounded 
 like the call and signal of a tamer of wild 
 beasts, who allowed some subdued animal 
 to take tho food lying before him ; but again 
 it sounded as when a father, fondly and 
 coaxingly, beseeches his peevish child to 
 eat something for his own good. Frau 
 Ceres ate only a part of a bird, and some 
 sweetmeats. 
 
 Pranken's demeanour at table was that 
 of an honored guest, to whom was con- 
 ceded the duty of paying particular atten- 
 tion to the hostess and conversing with her. 
 He gave a humorous account of the horse- 
 market at Mannheim, from which he had 
 returned to-day at an early hour, with his 
 companion ; he had bought for the fall- 
 races a gray mare, which he would be 
 happy to transfer to Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 And he soon took care to gain the good 
 will of Frau Ceres. She had a special aver- 
 sion to the family of the Wine-chevalier, 
 who were very reserved towards the Son- 
 nenkamp household. He proceeded to re- 
 late some ridiculous swaggerings of the 
 Wine-chevalier, although he had been his 
 own chosen companion. 
 
 He had also great skill in imitating the 
 peculiar manner of speaking of different 
 persons, and in introducing facetious an- 
 
 ecdotes, which produced a movement of the 
 muscles in the weary face of Frau Ceres, 
 and frequently even a smile. 
 
 The conversation was carried on in Ital- 
 ian, which Pranken spoke pretty well, but 
 in which Eric was not fluent. For the 
 first time in his life, Eric sat at a table 
 where he was obliged to keep as silent as 
 the servants who were in waiting. 
 
 Frau Ceres considered it her place not 
 to leave the stranger wholly neglected, and 
 therefore she asked him in English if his 
 parents were still living. 
 
 Assuming a patronising tone, Pranken 
 went into an account of Eric's father and 
 mother ; he did it with marked friendliness 
 of manner, and dwelt with special empha- 
 sis upon the fact that Eric's mother be- 
 longed to the nobility. 
 
 "Are you a Frenchman, as your name 
 indicates ?" Fräulein Perini inquired. 
 
 Eric once more repeated that his ances- 
 tors had immigrated into Germany two 
 hundred years before ; that he felt himself 
 to be purely a German, and rejoiced to be 
 descended from the Huguenots. 
 
 ' ' Huguenots ? — ah, yes ! they sing that," 
 Frau Ceres said, taking a childish delight 
 in this knowledge. 
 
 Every one at the table was obliged to re- 
 strain himself from laughing aloud. 
 
 "Why was the name Huguenots given 
 to them ? " asked Roland, and Eric replied, 
 
 " Some people think that the name orig- 
 inated in the circumstance of their holding 
 their secret religious assemblies at Tours, 
 only by night, when the ghost of King 
 Hugo appeared ; but I am of the opinion 
 of those who consider it a German word, 
 originally Eidgenosse, meaning associates, 
 and changed by the French into Huguenot." 
 
 Pranken nodded to Eric in a very friendly 
 manner, as if he would give him a testimo- 
 nial of his excellent qualifications as a tutor. 
 
 "You take pride, then, in your descent 
 from the Huguenots ? " asked Sonnenkamp. 
 
 4 ' Pride is not precisely the word I should 
 prefer," Eric answered. 
 
 "But you know that the Puritans, who 
 were exiled to the New World on account 
 of their religious belief, were the parent- 
 stock ofthat substantial, conscientious, and 
 courageous middle class ; and that they car- 
 ried with them and transplanted into their 
 new homes, as the Greeks of old times into 
 Sicily and Italy, a complete civilization." 
 
 The manner in which Eric uttered this, 
 touching upon a great historical series of 
 events, suddenly gave to the conversation 
 at table a wholly new direction. They 
 were at once taken out of the light, brief 
 witticisms, and piquant personalities, inio 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OK THE RHINE. 
 
 51 
 
 an entirely different atmosphere. Roland 
 felt this to some extent, looked proudly at 
 Eric, and was glad that his voice and his 
 thoughts so overmastered all. 
 
 Sonnenkamp himself recognised here the 
 serene presence of a higher nature, which 
 always breathed in an elevated region ; he 
 could not help feeling a certain respect for 
 the man, and at last put the question, 
 " How do you associate the Pilgrim Fathers 
 in America with the Huguenots ? " 
 
 u Let me briefly explain, 11 answered Eric. 
 " The new age has broken through the 
 stringent lines of demarcation between dif- 
 ferent nationalities, as, for example, the 
 Jews have become actual and constituent 
 parts of the various peoples among whom 
 they have been scattered. A haughty and 
 tyrannical king drove the Huguenots out 
 of France, and they became Germans. The 
 emigrating Englishmen imprinted their cul- 
 ture upon America; the emigrating Hu- 
 guenots, established among a people al- 
 ready civilized, were obliged to adopt the 
 social cultus of their new fatherland. Per- 
 mit me, Herr Sonnenkamp, to take you as 
 an example." 
 
 " Me ? what do you mean ? " 
 
 "You emigrated to America as a Ger- 
 man, and the German emigrants in the 
 New World become assimilated to their 
 adopted home, and their children are com- 
 pletely American. 1 ' 
 
 Roland's eye glistened, but whether it 
 was that Pranken felt himself cast in the 
 shade by Eric, or that he endeavored to 
 embarrass him as much as possible, he ex- 
 claimed, with an odd mingling of humor and 
 pity, — 
 
 " It is very modest in you to place the 
 Huguenots, who almost all belonged to the 
 gentry, in the same category with the 
 Jews. 11 
 
 "I regard it as a matter of no conse- 
 quence, 11 Eric replied, "whether my an- 
 cestors belonged to the gentry or not ; they 
 were engaged in the common occupations 
 of business and trade, and my immediate 
 ancestors were goldsmiths. The resem- 
 blance of the Jews with the Huguenots, 
 however, I must maintain. Every commu- 
 nity exiled on account of its religion, and 
 scattered abroad, incurs thereby a double 
 obligation: first, to keep in view, over and 
 above all nationality, the oneness of hu- 
 manity ; and second, to contend against all 
 fanaticism and all exclusiveness. There is 
 uo one religion in which alone salvation is 
 to be found, and no one nationality com- 
 prising in itself all excellence. 11 
 
 Pranken and Fräulein Perini looked at 
 each other in astonishment. Frau Ceres 
 
 was at a loss to comprehend what all this 
 meant, and Sonnenkamp shook his head 
 over this sermon-like style of his guest, who 
 intermingled his world-wide historical views 
 with the light table-talk ; and yet he could 
 not get rid of the impression that there was 
 before him a nature that had its permanent 
 abode in the region of pure thought. 
 
 " You must unfold that to me yet more 
 definitely at some other time, 11 he said, 
 seeking to divert the conversation. 
 
 And Roland said : — 
 
 "Louis the fourteenth, who exiled your 
 ancestors, is he the one who destroyed the 
 castles here on the Rhine ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 It seemed difficult to draw the conversa- 
 tion away from a subject which made it 
 drag heavily, but it was suddenly diverted, 
 for just then a highly seasoned dish was 
 brought in, of which Roland desired to eat. 
 His father would not permit it. His 
 mother, perceiving it, cried out in a shrill 
 voice, " Do let him eat what he likes." 
 
 A glance from Eric met Roland's eye, 
 and the boy laid down the morsel that he was 
 about putting into his mouth, saying, " I 
 would rather not eat it. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp made a sign to the servant 
 to re-fill Eric's glass with Rauenthaler. 
 This appeared to be his way of expressing 
 his gratitude for the glance of Eric. 
 
 No new topics for light conversation came 
 up. Pranken was silent, and it was uncertain 
 whether he had exhausted his material, or 
 whether he wished to make Eric conscious 
 by this reticence how pedantically, and at 
 the same time ostentatiously, he had dis- 
 turbed the cordial good feeling of the 
 table. 
 
 The cloth was removed. Fräulein Perini 
 again repeated' a prayer in a low tone, all 
 stood motionless, and the servants having 
 quickly drawn back the chairs, they re- 
 paired to the veranda, where coffee was 
 served in very small cups. 
 
 Frau Ceres gave a biscuit to a snow- 
 white parrot, and the parrot called out, 
 "God bless you, massa." Then she sank 
 down into an easy-chair, and Pranken 
 placed himself near her on a low tabouret, 
 sitting almost at her feet. 
 
 Fräulein Perini selected a seat suffi- 
 ciently near, if she wished to take part in 
 the conversation, and yet far enough off to 
 allow Pranken to speak with Frau Ceres 
 alone. 
 
 Sonnenkamp beckoned to Eric to go 
 with him into the garden. Roland accom- 
 panied them without being asked. 
 
 The servant came to inform them that the 
 huntsman Claus was with the puppies, and 
 
52 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 begged that the young gentleman would 
 come to him. 
 
 ** I give you permission to go," the father 
 said. 
 
 " But I would prefer to remain with you 
 here," Roland replied. 
 
 There was an expression of childlike 
 
 fondness in the tone and gesture, as he 
 grasped Eric's hand. 
 
 " If your father says that you may go, 
 you should go," Eric quietly answered. 
 
 Roland departed with lingering steps, 
 halting at intervals, but still he went. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AN EXAMINATION THAT ENDS WITH A 
 LAUGH. 
 
 For some time, the two walked silently 
 side by side. Eric was dissatisfied with 
 himself; he lived too exclusively in himself, 
 and in the longing to arrange everything 
 according to his own mental laws, and to 
 express each truth in the most comprehen- 
 sive way, throwing himself into it in the ex- 
 citement of the moment with perfect free- 
 dom and naivete, yet not unconscious of his 
 intellectual riches. 
 
 Hence the hearers felt that what he said 
 was not only inopportune, but was presented 
 with a sort of zealous importunity. Eric 
 acknowledged this and was conscious of it 
 immediately afterward ,when he had divested 
 himself of himself ; yet he was continually 
 making the same mistake, which caused 
 him to appear in an ambiguous light, and as 
 if he were out of his appropriate place. 
 Eric had a sort of clairvoyant perception 
 how all this was affecting Sonnenkamp, but 
 he could not discern the peculiar triumph 
 that it afforded him over the visionary, as 
 he smiled to himself at the green youth who 
 served up such freshly-cooked dishes of 
 sophomoric learning. He knows what it is, 
 he has passed through it all. People settle 
 themselves down there in the little univer- 
 sity-town, and coming in contact with no 
 one else, they live in a fantastic world of 
 humanity, and appear to themselves to be 
 personages of the greatest consequence, 
 whom an ungrateful lack of appreciation 
 hinders from manifesting their efficiency in 
 actual life. And this captain-doctor now 
 before him had only a small company of 
 ideas under his command. 
 
 Sonnenkamp whistled to himself, — whis- 
 tled so low that nobody but himself could 
 hear the tune ; he even knew how to set his 
 lips so that nobody perceived him to be 
 whistling. 
 
 He placed himself in a chair on a little 
 eminence, and showed Eric also a seat. 
 
 " You must have noticed,' 1 he said at last, 
 " that Fräulein Perini is a very strict Cath- 
 olic, and all our household belong to the 
 Church ; may I ask, then, why you rang the 
 changes so loudly, upon your Huguenot 
 descent ? " 
 
 "Because I wish to show my colors, 
 and nail them to the mast ; for no one 
 must ever take me for what I am not." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was silent for some time, 
 and then he said, leaning back in his 
 seat, — 
 
 "I am master in this house, and I tell 
 you that your confession shall be no hind- 
 rance. But now " — he bent himself down, 
 putting both hands on his knees and looting 
 straight at Eric — ' ' but now — I came very 
 near falling from my horse to-day, which 
 has never happened to me before, because 
 I was deeply engaged, while riding, in re- 
 flection upon what you said to me — in 
 brief — the main point of our conversation. 
 How do you think that a boy who is to en- 
 gage in no business and who is to come into 
 possession of a million — or rather say, of 
 millions — how do you think that such a 
 boy is to be educated ? " 
 
 ' ' I can give a precise answer to that 
 question." 
 
 " Can you ? I am listening." 
 
 " The answer is simple. He cannot be 
 educated at all." 
 
 "What! not at all?" 
 
 " That is what I affirm. The great mys- 
 terious Destiny alone can educate him. 
 All that we can do is, to work with him, and 
 to help him rule over and apply whatever 
 strength he has." 
 
 "To rule over and to apply," Sonnen- 
 kamp murmured to himself; " that sounds 
 well, and I must say that you confirm an 
 impression which has often before this been 
 made upon me. Only a soldier, only a 
 man who has developed and trained his own 
 inborn courageous energies, only such an 
 one can accomplish anything great in our 
 time ; nothing can be done by sermons and 
 books, for they cannot overcome the old, 
 nor create the new age." 
 
 In a changed, almost cringingly humble 
 tone, Sonnenkamp continued, — 
 
 " It may appear in the highest degree 
 strange, that I, a man of little knowledge, 
 who have not had time in the active busi- 
 ness of life to learn anything rightly, — that I 
 should seem to subject you to examination ; 
 but you must be convinced that I do it for 
 my own instruction. I see, already, that I 
 have even more to learn from you than 
 Roland has. 
 
 " I pray you then to tell me what training 
 — imagine yourself a father in my circum- 
 stances — what training you would give 
 your own son." 
 
 " I believe," Eric answered, " that fan- 
 tasy can call up all sorts of pictures,_but a 
 relation which is one of the mysteries of 
 nature can only be known through experi- 
 ence, and cannot be apprehended by any 
 stretch of the imagination. Permit me then 
 to answer from my own outside point of 
 view." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
54 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " My father was the educator of a prince, 
 and I think his task was the easier one." 
 
 " You would then place wealth above 
 sovereignty ? 11 
 
 " Not at all; but in a prince the sense 
 of duty is very early awakened. Not only 
 pride but duty is a means, every moment, 
 of inducing him to conduct himself as a 
 prince. The formal assumption of state 
 dignity, in which those in the highest rank 
 are so accomplished, appears from a very 
 early age as an essential feature of their 
 position, as a duty, and becomes a second 
 nature. Taste becomes connoisseurship. 
 Pardon my scholastic ways," Eric laughingly 
 said, breaking in upon his exposition. 
 
 " Don't stop — to me it is in the highest 
 degree interesting." 
 
 Sonnenkamp leaned back in his seat, and 
 gave himself up to the enjoyment of Eric's 
 discourse, as if it were some choice tid-bit : 
 very well for this man to go off into the re- 
 gions of speculation, who in the meanwhile 
 could not call his own the chair on which 
 he sat, nor the spot of earth on which he 
 stood, whilst he, Sonnenkamp, could proudly 
 call his all that was around him, .and could 
 obtain possession, if he wished, of all that 
 was within reach of his sight, and, as the 
 keeper said, buy up the whole of the Rhine- 
 
 " Continue," he said, putting a fresh 
 cigar in his mouth. 
 
 " It may seem laughable," resumed Eric, 
 " but it is certainly significant that a prince 
 receives, in his very cradle, a military rank. 
 When reason awakens in him, he sees his 
 father always under the ordinance of duty. 
 I do not at all deny that this duty often sits 
 very lightly upon him, if it is not wholly 
 neglected, but a certain appearance of duty 
 must always be preserved. The son of a 
 rich man, on the other hand, does not see 
 the duty which wealth imposes placed so 
 peremptorily before his eyes ; he sees bene- 
 ficence, utility, the fostering of art, hospi- 
 tality, but all this not as duty, but as free 
 personal inclination." 
 
 " You come round again to the ob- 
 ligation imposed by social civilization. I 
 pray you, however, — you have a decided 
 talent for instruction, I see that plainly ; 
 and I am at any rate thankful to Count 
 Clodwig and to you." 
 
 " A point for comparison occurs to me," 
 Eric began anew. 
 
 "Go on," Sonnenkamp said, encourag- 
 ingly* 
 
 " It was a custom, in the good old time, 
 for German princes to learn some trade. 
 Irrespective of all else, they learned how 
 to understand and to esteem labor. The 
 
 rich youth ought to have something like 
 this, without its being suffered to degener- 
 ate into a mere hollow ceremonial." 
 
 " Very suggestive," Sonnenkamp assert- 
 ed. He had proposed to himself only to 
 make inquiries of Eric, only to procure a 
 new species of enjoyment by allowing a 
 learned idealist to open his whole budget ; 
 he had taken especial satisfaction in the 
 thought that Eric would do this for his 
 enjoyment, and would reap no advantage 
 from it himself; he also experienced a cer- 
 tain delight in being able for once to jour- 
 ney into the region of the ideal — it seemed 
 a very pretty thing — but only for one hour, 
 for one half-day ; and now he was unexpec- 
 tedly awakened to a lively interest. He 
 placed his hand upon Eric's arm, and 
 said, — 
 
 " You are really a good teacher." 
 
 Eric continued, without remarking upon 
 the compliment, — 
 
 " I set a very high value upon sovereign- 
 ty ; it is a great influence, and confers in- 
 dependence and self-possession." 
 
 Yes, that is true. But do you know 
 what is the most desirable thing, which 
 money cannot buy ? " 
 
 Eric shook his head, and Sonnenkamp 
 continued, — 
 
 " A trust in God! Look! a poor vine- 
 dresser was buried there day before yes- 
 terday. I would give half my property to 
 purchase of him for the remainder of my 
 life his trus* in God. I could not believe 
 what the physician said, but it was only the 
 truth, that this vine-dresser, a real Lazarus 
 covered with sores, in all his sufferings 
 constantly said, ' My Saviour underwent yet 
 severer pains, and God knows beforehand 
 why he inflicts this upon me.' Now tell 
 me if such a faith is not worth more than 
 any millions of money? And I ask you 
 now, do you feel yourself able to give this 
 to my son, without making him a priestjid- 
 den slave, or a canting devotee ? " 
 
 " I do not think that I can. But there 
 is a blessedness to be obtained from the 
 depths of thought." 
 
 " Is there ? and in what does it consist ? " 
 
 "According to my opinion, in the bliss- 
 ful consciousness of acting according to the 
 measure of our strength, and in harmony 
 with the well-being of our fellow-men." 
 
 " I think that if I, when a boy, had had 
 an instructor after your stamp, it would 
 have been happy for me,"- Sonnenkamp ex- 
 claimed, in a tone entirely different from 
 before. 
 
 Eric replied, "Nothing that you could 
 say to me would give me more confidence 
 and hopefulness than this utterance." 
 
THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE KHINE. 
 
 55 
 
 A quick movement of the hand, as if he 
 were throwing away some object, indicated 
 that something went wrong with Sonnen- 
 kamp. This continued conversation wea- 
 ried him, for he was not used to it, and this 
 sort of immediate balancing of the ledger 
 wounded his pride. Eric never remained 
 in his debt, and he himself had always the 
 feeling that there was something for him to 
 
 For some time nothing was heard but the 
 splashing of the fountain, and the gentle 
 flowing of the Rhine, and at intervals the 
 note of the nightingale singing unweariedly 
 in the thicket. 
 
 " Did you ever have a passion for play ? 11 
 Sonnenkamp asked unexpectedly. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Were you ever passionately in love? 
 You look at me in astonishment, but I asked 
 only because I should like to know what 
 has made you so mature. 11 
 
 "Perhaps a careful and thorough train- 
 ing has given me that serious thoughtful- 
 ness which you are so kind as to call matu- 
 rity.' 1 
 
 "Well, you are more than an educator. 11 
 
 " I shall be glad if it is so, for I think 
 that he who is to bring anything to pass 
 must always be something more than what 
 his immediate activity calls for. 1 ' 
 
 Sonnenkamp again made a wry face, and 
 once more jerked his hand as if throwing 
 something away. This readiness always to 
 return the blow, and this assured response, 
 put him out of countenance. 
 
 They heard Pranken and Fraulein Perini 
 walking up and down in a side-walk. 
 
 "You must take care to stand in good 
 relations with Fraulein Perini, 11 Sonnen- 
 kamp said, as he rose ; " for she is also — 
 she is of some importance, and is not very 
 easily fathomed, and she has one great ad- 
 vantage over most persons I know, — she has 
 that most valuable trait of never indulging 
 in any whims. 11 
 
 " I am sorry to say that I cannot boast 
 of any such trait, and I ask your pardon in 
 advance if I ever — 11 
 
 "It is not necessary. But your friend, 
 Pranken, understands very well how to be 
 on good terms with Fräulein Perini. 11 
 
 Eric considered that truth demanded of 
 him to inform Sonnenkamp that he had no 
 right to call Pranken a friend of his. They 
 were in the military school together, and 
 acquainted in the garrison, but their ideas 
 had never chimed together, and his own 
 views in life had always been wholly differ- 
 ent from those of a rich elder son ; he ac- 
 knowledged the kindness with which Pran- 
 ken had facilitated his entrance into the fam- 
 
 ily of Sonnenkamp, but the truth must be 
 spoken in spite of all feelings of gratitude. 
 Sonnenkamp again whistled inaudibly ; he 
 was evidently amazed at this courageous 
 openness of mind, and the thought occurred 
 to him that Eric was a subtle diplomatist, 
 he himself considering it the chief peculiar- 
 ity of diplomacy not to make any confes- 
 sion of being under obligation of any sort. 
 This man must be either the noblest of en- 
 thusiasts or the shrewdest of worldlings. 
 
 Eric felt that this confession was untimely, 
 but he could not anticipate that this com- 
 munication would counteract the whole im- 
 pression previously made upon Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 On meeting Pranken and Fräulein Perini, 
 Sonnenkamp greeted the Baron in a very 
 friendly way, and took his arm. 
 
 Eric joined Fräulein Perini. She always 
 carried some nice hand-work ; with very 
 small instruments and with a fine thread, she 
 completed with surprising quickness a deli- 
 cate piece of lace-work. It was the first 
 time that Eric had spoken with her, and 
 he expressed his great admiration for her 
 pretty, delicate work. But immediately 
 it was fixed as firmly as if there had been a 
 written covenant between them, — We shall 
 avoid each other as much as possible, and 
 if we a*re placed in the same circle, we shall 
 conduct ourselves just as if there were no 
 such persons in the world. 
 
 In contrast with the clear, full tone of 
 Eric, Fräulein Perini always spoke in a 
 somewhat husky voice ; and when she per- 
 ceived that Eric was surprised at hearing 
 her, she said, — 
 
 " I thank you for not asking me if I am 
 not hoarse. You cannot imagine how tire- 
 some it is to be obliged to reply, again and 
 again, that I have always spoken so from 
 my childhood. 11 
 
 Eric gladly entered into this friendly 
 mood, and related how troublesome it was 
 to a friend of his, born on the 28th of Feb- 
 ruary, to have the remark always made to 
 him, It is fortunate for you that you were 
 not born on the 29th, for then you would 
 have had only one birth-day every four 
 years. " He has now accustomed himself to 
 say pleasantly, * I was born on the 28th of 
 February, and it is fortunate for me that I 
 was not born on the 29th, for then I should 
 have had only one birt]i-day every four 
 years. 1 11 
 
 Fräulein Perini laughed heartily, and 
 Eric was obliged also to laugh. 
 
 " What are you laughing at? 11 Sonnen- 
 kamp asked, drawing near. Laughing was 
 the thing of all others that he most delighted 
 in. 
 
56 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Fräulein Perini narrated the story of 
 Eric's friend, and Sonnenkamp laughed too. 
 
 The day continued after that serene and 
 unruffled. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 EYES OPENED. 
 
 While Eric was in the garden with Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, Roland sat with Claus near 
 the young dogs. The huntsman asked 
 him whether all was settled with the cap- 
 tain, and seeing that he did not under- 
 stand his meaning, he laughed to himself 
 as he thought he might win a double re- 
 ward. 
 
 " What will you give me, 1 ' he asked, " if 
 I manage to have the captain stay with you 
 as a companion and teacher ? Whew ! " 
 he interrupted himself suddenly, "you look 
 like a dog whose eyes are opened for the 
 first time. Come, tell me — what will you 
 give me ? " 
 
 Roland could not answer; everything 
 was giddy and confused in his thoughts, 
 and the young dogs seemed to be whirling 
 round and round. 
 
 Joseph came into the stable, and after 
 representing Eric's parents as veritable 
 saints, he concluded, — 
 
 " You ought to be proud, Master Roland ; 
 the father educated the prince, and now the 
 son is to educate you." 
 
 " Open the shutters, quick !" cried Claus 
 suddenly. Joseph did so, and the trainer 
 took up one of the puppies, drew up its 
 eyelids, and exclaimed, "There, that's 
 enough to show me that this one's eyes are 
 just opening. Now don't let any more 
 light in, or they will be spoiled." 
 
 In his interest in the animals, Claus for- 
 got his shrewd two-fold plan ; he went with 
 Roland and Joseph into the court, where 
 Roland immediately left them. He saw his 
 father and Eric sitting together, and felt 
 angry with Eric for not telling him directly 
 who he was. Soon overcoming this feel- 
 ing, however, he would gladly have has- 
 tened to him and embraced him, but he re- 
 strained himself, and only approached when 
 he heard the whole party laughing. 
 
 He pressed close to Eric confidingly, and 
 his eyes said, " I thank you; I know who 
 you are." 
 
 Eric did not understand his glance, until 
 Roland said, — 
 
 " The others have had you long enough, 
 now come with me." 
 
 He accompanied Eric to his room, and 
 seemed to be. waiting to talk with him, but 
 Eric begged to be left alone ; he was inex- 
 
 pressibly weary, and, like a heavy burden, 
 there lay upon his spirit the consciousness 
 that he who enters the service of others 
 cannot live his own life ; especially if he at- 
 taches to himself a faithful soul which he 
 is to mould, sustain, and guide, he must 
 never be weary, never say, "Now leave 
 me to myself," but must be always ready, 
 always expectant, always at the beck and 
 call of others. 
 
 Roland was much troubled at Eric's look 
 of fatigue ; he could not suspect that he was 
 extremely dissatisfied with himself. It was 
 not merely the weariness after imparting 
 extensive and various knowledge which 
 often brings a sense of exhaustion, it was 
 pure chagrin that he had allowed himself 
 to be beguiled into drawing a plan of vast 
 extent, and for what object ? The educa- 
 tion of a single boy. 
 
 Eric's chief vexation was, however, that 
 he was obliged to acknowledge himself still 
 so undisciplined ; he must become more 
 self-restrained before he could give stability 
 and right training to another. In this state 
 of discontent he hardly heard the boy, who 
 talked on about the wonderful opening of 
 the dog's eyes, and kept asking him ques- 
 tions, and looking inquiringly in his face. 
 
 A servant entered, and announced that 
 the carriages were ready for a drive. 
 
 Eric was startled. What sort of a life was 
 this ? To promenade in the garden, ride, 
 drive, eat, amuse one's self. How could he 
 guard and preserve his own inner life? 
 How would it be possible to hold a young 
 spirit to a definite course of constant self- 
 development ? 
 
 Eric's pride rose ; he had not worked all his 
 life for this, — exercised himself in earnest 
 and strict renunciation for the sake of fill- 
 ing the intervals between driving and ban- 
 queting. The plan would be unbearable ; 
 he would have an arrangement which he 
 could control and to which he could give 
 the tone of his own mind. 
 
 He went into the court with Roland, and 
 politely asked to be excused from the drive, 
 as he felt the necessity of being alone for a 
 few hours. 
 
 This announcement was received by 
 glances of various expression. Herr Son- 
 nenkamp said quickly, that he laid no sort 
 of constraint upon his guests : Pranken and 
 Fr&ulein Perini exchanged looks in which 
 there seemed to be a malicious pleasure in 
 the harm that Eric had done himself by the 
 wilfulness which led to a want of tact. 
 
 Roland said at once that he would like 
 to stay at home with Eric, but Pranken re- 
 joined in an exultant tone : 
 
 4 ' Herr Dournay just wishes to be alone ; 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 57 
 
 if you stay with him, my dear Roland, the 
 gentleman will just not be alone." 
 
 He uttered the word "gentleman" in a 
 peculiarly disagreeable tone. 
 
 The second carriage was sent away. 
 Fräulein Perini, Pranken, and Roland en- 
 tered the other; Sonnenkamp seated him- 
 self on the box ; he was fond of managing 
 four horses from the box-seat ; four-in-hand 
 was a great delight to him. This driving 
 four-in-hand was generally taken for osten- 
 tation, but it was only a personal gratifica- 
 tion. 
 
 . Frau Ceres also remained behind ; she 
 had already exerted herself to be social 
 quite enough for that day. 
 
 Eric watched the party drive off, then re- 
 turned to his room. 
 
 He sat there alone in perfect quiet, more 
 weary than it would have seemed possible 
 to become in so short a time, but the day 
 had been one of excitement, and full of a 
 violent effort to make himself master over 
 novel circumstances. How much he had 
 been through ! It seemed years since he 
 looked over the Roman antiquities with 
 Clodwig. During the day he had been 
 obliged to turn over and over, and to un- 
 fold his own character and environment ; 
 he had tasted for the first time the humble 
 bread of servitude, and the feeling, half of 
 friendliness, half of ingratitude, the enig- 
 matic in Sonnenkamp, in Roland, in Frau- 
 lein Perini, and Frau Ceres, seemed to him 
 like the dim memory of a dream, like a far- 
 off life, as his thoughts went home to his 
 mother. 
 
 A profound home-sickness threatened to 
 overcome him, but he shook it off reso- 
 lutely. It must not be ! His military 
 training helped him ; his orders were to 
 stand at his post, keep a close watch, and 
 never to tire. 
 
 "Never to tire!" he said half aloud to 
 himself, and the consciousness of youthful 
 vigor supported him. He felt that on the 
 next day he could meet the problems be- 
 fore him full of fresh courage ; and one 
 thought above all others strengthened him, 
 and lightened his heart: he had remained 
 faithful to the truth', and so should it al- 
 ways be. Truth is that firm*. standpoint 
 of mother-earth where the wrestling spirit 
 is not to be conquered and thrown. 
 
 In the distance, from the railway station 
 across the river, he now heard an idle lo- 
 comotive blowing off steam. It snorted, 
 shrieked, and panted like a fabulous mon- 
 ster ; and Eric thought, This engine has all 
 day been drawing trains of cars in which 
 hundreds of human beings had, for the 
 time, been seated, and now it is resting 
 
 and letting off its hot steam. He smiled 
 as he thought that he himself was almost 
 such a locomotive, and was now cooling 
 himself, to be fired up anew on the mor- 
 row. 
 
 Suddenly he was waked from sleep ; for 
 he had slept without intending to do so. 
 A servant announced that Frau Sonnen- 
 kamp wished to speak to him. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A TWILIGHT RIDDLE. 
 
 The sun had set, but a golden haze en- 
 veloped valley, mountain and river, when 
 Eric went with the servant, and from the 
 corridor looked out over the distant pros- 
 pect. He was conducted through several 
 rooms. In the last, where a ground-glass 
 hanging-lamp was lighted, he heard the 
 words, " I thank you, — be seated." 
 
 He saw Frau Ceres reclining on a divan, 
 a large rocking-chair standing before her. 
 Eric sat down. 
 
 " I have remained at home on your ac- 
 count," Frau Ceres began ; she had a fee- 
 ble, timid voice, and it was evidently dif- 
 ficult for her to speak. 
 
 Eric was at a loss what to reply. 
 
 Suddenly she sat upright, and asked, — 
 
 "Are you acquainted with my daugh- 
 ter?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "But you've been to the convent on the 
 island ? " 
 
 "Yes; I had a greeting to deliver from 
 my mother to the Lady Superior — nothing 
 farther." 
 
 "I believe you. I am not the cause of 
 her becoming a nun — no, not I — do not 
 think it," and reclining again on the pillow, 
 Frau Ceres continued, — 
 
 " I warn you, captain, not to remain here 
 with us. I have been informed of nothing 
 — he has let me be informed of nothing — 
 but do not stay with us, if you can find any 
 other employment in the world. What is 
 your purpose in coming into this house ? " 
 
 " Because I thought — until an hour ago 
 I believed — that I could be a fitting guide 
 to your son." 
 
 And now Eric gave utterance to his in- 
 most feeling of unfitness for being another's 
 guide, and yet he must confess that no 
 other person could have a stronger inclina- 
 tion to be, only some other might perhaps 
 take it more easily. He unfolded from the 
 very depths of his soul the newly awakened 
 longing to plunge into solitary meditation, 
 and lamented that one builds up an ideal of 
 life and of work only to have it shattered 
 in pieces upon the rock of actual existence ; 
 
58 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 but it was only unvanquished self-seeking, 
 for which his own thought, and not the 
 world, was to blame. 
 
 "I am not learned — I don't understand 
 you, 1 ' Frau Ceres replied. "But you 
 speak so beautifully — you have such good 
 expressions — I should like always to hear 
 you speak, even if I do not understand 
 what you are saying. But you will not 
 let him know anything about my having sent 
 for you ? " 
 
 "Him? Whom?" Eric wished to ask, but 
 Frau Ceres raised herself up hastily, and 
 said, — 
 
 " He can be terrible — he is a dangerous 
 man — no one knows it, no one would im- 
 agine it. He is a dangerous man ! Do 
 you like me too ? " 
 
 Eric trembled. What did that mean ? 
 
 " Ah ! I. do not know what I am saying, 11 
 continued Frau Ceres. 
 
 "He is right — I am only half-witted. 
 Why did I send for you ? Yes, now I know. 
 Xell me about your mother. Is she really 
 a learned and noble lady ? I was also a 
 noble lady — yes, I was one indeed." 
 
 A fresh shiver passed over Eric. Is this 
 half lethargic, half raving person really in- 
 sane, and kept within bounds in society 
 only by the greatest care ? 
 
 He had wished this very morning to write 
 to his mother that he had come into fairy- 
 land, — the fairy land was yet more marvel- 
 lous than he had himself fancied. 
 
 Eric depicted with extreme precision, 
 as far as a son could, the character of his 
 mother ; how she was always so very happy, 
 ^because she was contriving how to make 
 others happy. He described the death of 
 his father, the death of his brother, and the 
 greatness of soul with which his mother en- 
 dured all this. 
 
 Frau Ceres sobbed ; then she said sud- 
 denly, — 
 
 " I thank you — I thank you ! 11 
 
 She extended her white hand to Eric, 
 and kept saying, — 
 
 "I thank you! With all his money he 
 has not been able to make me know that I 
 could weep once more. O, how much good 
 it does me ! Stay with us — stay with Ro- 
 land. He cannot weep — say nothing to 
 him — I also should like to have a mother. 
 Stay with us. I shall never forget it of you 
 — I thank you — now go — go — before he 
 returns — go — good-night ! " 
 
 Eric went back to his chamber. What 
 he had experienced seemed Ho him like a 
 dream ; the hidden element of mystery which 
 seemed at Wolfsgarten to envelop the fam- 
 ily of Sonnenkamp was more and more evi- 
 
 dent. Here were the strangest sorts of rid- 
 dles. Roland, full of life and spirits, came 
 to him ; the brief separation had given both 
 a new and joyful pleasure in meeting again ; 
 it was as great as if they had been sepa- 
 rated for years. 
 
 Roland asked ( Eric to tell him about the 
 Huguenots ; there had evidently been much 
 talk about them during the drive. Eric 
 put him off, saying that it was not neces- 
 sary, at least not now, to dwell upon the 
 horrible tortures which human beings in- 
 flicted upon one another on account of their 
 religious belief. 
 
 Roland informed Eric that Herr von 
 Pranken was going the next day to visit 
 Manna at the convent. 
 
 Eric was doubtful what he ought to do. 
 If he were to forbid the boy's informing him 
 of what he heard, he would scare away his 
 confidingness, his perfect confidence ; and 
 yet it was disagreeable to himself to be in- 
 formed of things which might not be in- 
 tended for him to hear. He proposed to 
 himself for the future, to request Sonnen- 
 kamp to say nothing in the hearing of the 
 boy which he ought not to know. Eric 
 was summoned once more to tea ; Frau 
 Ceres did not make her appearance. 
 
 Eric was this evening perplexed, and lost 
 the feeling of untroubled security. 
 
 Should he tell Sonnenkamp that his wife 
 had sent for him ? But then he must in- 
 form him of what she had revealed to him, 
 ihough it was only half uttered, — it was a 
 warning, a speech wholly disjointed and in- 
 coherent. 
 
 Eric also saw Roland looking at him as 
 if beseeching. The boy felt that some pain- 
 ful experience was going on in his new 
 friend, which he would gladly remove. 
 And to ErnVs affection there was super- 
 added the feeling of pity. Here was a 
 manifestly distressing family relation under 
 which the boy must have suffered, and it 
 was a fortunate thing that his light, youth- 
 ful spirits were untouched. 
 
 Eric was reminded continually of an ex- 
 perience of his in the house of correction. 
 The most hardened criminals had avowed 
 always with the most triumphant mien, that 
 it conferred the greatest satisfaction to them 
 to be able to conceal their deeds from the 
 world ; but the least hardened disclosed, on 
 the other hand, how glad they felt to be 
 punished ; for the fear of discovery, and the 
 constant endeavour to conceal the crime, 
 were the severest punishment. 
 
 Eric had now a secret ; was he to let it be 
 possible for a servant to betray him, and 
 himself appear untrustworthy ? 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 59 
 
 When Eric was about to go to rest, Ro- 
 land came to him and asked whether he had 
 anything to impart to him. 
 
 Enc replied in the negative, and the boy 
 appeared sad when he said good-night. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A NEW DAY AND DARK QUESTIONS. 
 
 The morning dew glistened on grass, 
 flower, and shrub, and the birds sang mer- 
 rily, as Eric walked through the park. 
 There was evidence everywhere of an or- 
 dering, busy, and watchful mind. 
 
 Eric heard, on the bank of the river, two 
 women talking with each other, as they 
 carried on shore the garden-earth out of 
 a boat. 
 
 " God be praised," said one, " who has 
 sent the man to us ; no one in the place who 
 is willing to work need suffer poverty any 
 more." 
 
 " Yes," spoke the other, " and yet there 
 are people here who are so bad as to say 
 all sorts of things about the man." 
 
 " What do they say ? " 
 
 " That he has been a tailor." 
 
 Eric could hardly restrain himself from 
 laughing aloud. But a third woman, with 
 a rather thick voice, said, — 
 
 "A tailor indeed! He has been a pi- 
 rate, and in Africa stole a gold-ship." 
 
 "And supposing he did," said the other, 
 " those man-eaters have heaps of gold, and 
 are heathens beside, and Herr Sonnenkamp 
 does nothing but good with his gold." 
 
 Eric could not help smiling at these 
 strange tales and implications ; and it was 
 also painful to him that great wealth always 
 stirred up new and calumnious reports. 
 
 He went on farther. He saw from a 
 height, with satisfaction, how the main 
 building and all its dependencies, with park 
 and garden, were combined in a beautiful 
 harmony. Near the main building there 
 were only trees of a dark foliage, lindens, 
 elms, and maples, which brought out, by 
 contrast, so much the more brightly the 
 brilliant architecture of the house built in a 
 good Renaissance style. The arbored walks 
 converged gradually, as if conducting to 
 the solidly-built mansion, which seemed not 
 to be built upon the ground, but as if it 
 had sprung up from the soil with the scenery 
 that surrounded it ; the stone colonnades, 
 the lawns, the trees, the elevations, all 
 were an introduction to the house ; all was 
 in harmony. The verandas appeared to be. 
 only bearers of the climbing plants, and the 
 whole was a masterpiece of rural archi- 
 tecture, a work of natural poetry according 
 to the laws of pure art, so that all that was 
 
 man's handiwork seemed as fresh as if it 
 had just come out Of the builder's hand, and 
 in such perfect preservation, that one .per- 
 ceived that each tree, each leaf, each lat- 
 tice, was owned and carefully cherished by 
 a wealthy man. 
 
 Eric, however, was not to be long alone ; 
 the valet, Joseph, joined him, and with a 
 pleasing deference offered to inform Eric 
 concerning everything in the household. 
 
 As Eric was silent, Joseph related once 
 more that he had been a billiard-boy at the 
 University, Henry the thirty-second, for all 
 the boys must be called Henry. Then he 
 had been a waiter in the Berne Hotel at 
 Berne, where Sonnenkamp had boarded for 
 almost two summers long, occupying the 
 whole first floor — the best rooms in the 
 world, as Joseph called them — and had 
 learned to know him, and taken him into 
 his service. Joseph gave rather a humor- 
 ous account of the corps of servants in the 
 household, that it was a sort of menagerie 
 gathered from all countries. As in a poul- 
 try yard there are all sorts of fowls, and 
 even the peacock is not wanting, which 
 shrieks so horribly and looks so beautifully, 
 so it was with the people here, for Herr 
 Sonnenkamp had travelled all over the 
 world. The coachman was an Englishman, 
 the first groom a Pole, the cook a French- 
 man, the first chamber-maid a thoreugh- 
 going Bohemian, and Fräulein Perini an 
 Italian Frenchwoman of Nice. The mas- 
 ter was, however, very strict ; the gardeners 
 must not smoke in the park, nor the grooms 
 whistle in the stable, for all the horses were 
 accustomed to the whistle of the master, 
 and must not be disturbed. And moreover, 
 Herr Sonnenkamp would rather not have 
 his servants look like servants, or have 
 any peculiar dress of servants, and it was 
 only a short time ago that he had given in 
 to his wife, and dressed a few of them in 
 livery. The servants were allowed to speak 
 only a few words, and there were particu- 
 lar words which Herr Sonnenkamp used to 
 each of them, and which each used in an- 
 swering, and so all were kept in good order. 
 
 Joseph related in conclusion, not with- 
 out self-satisfaction, that he had spread 
 abroad in the servants' room the fame of 
 Eric's parents ; it was a good thing for 
 people to know where a man came from, 
 for then they had a much greater respect. 
 But that Madame Perini was the special 
 mistress in the household, and would con- 
 tinue to be ; she was really a Fräulein r but 
 the gracious Frau called her always Ma- 
 dame. 
 
 " The keeper is right," added Joseph. 
 • 4 Fräulein Perini is a woman with the 
 
GO 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 strength of seven cats, and a marten into 
 the bargain." 
 
 Eric wished to hinder this revelation, but 
 Joseph begged him to allow everything to 
 be spoken out, and to pardon him as being 
 a University acquaintance. He only added 
 the information that Pranken was to marry 
 the daughter of the house. 
 
 "Ah! that is a beauty! not exactly a 
 beauty, but lovely and charming; formerly 
 she Avas so .frolicsome, no horse was too 
 wild for her, no storm on the Rhine too 
 violent ; she hunted like a poacher, but now 
 she is only sad — always sad — vilely sad." 
 
 Eric was glad when the gossiping youth 
 suddenly drew out his watch, and said : — 
 
 " In one minute the master gets up, and 
 then I must be near him. He is a man 
 always up to time," he added as he went 
 away. 
 
 Like confused echoes which gradually 
 mingle into one sound, Eric thought upon 
 all that he had now heard about the daugh- 
 ter of the house. And was not this the 
 girl with wings, who had met him the day 
 before yesterday in the convent ? Invol- 
 untarily standing still, and staring at a 
 hedge, a whole life-picture presented itself 
 to his mind. Here is a child sent to the 
 convent, removed from all the world, from 
 all intercourse with people ; she is taken 
 out of the convent, and they say to her : 
 " Thou art the Baroness Pranken ! " and she 
 is happy with the handsome and brilliant 
 man, and all the dazzling splendor of the 
 world is showered upon her through him. 
 It seems as 'if he had called it all into be- 
 ing, and this without knowing what kind of 
 a man her husband is, — it will be indeed 
 a good thing for her not to 1 know. 
 
 He shook his head. What was the little 
 cloister-plant to him ? 
 
 Eric saw nothing more of the gorgeous 
 beauty of the garden ; he hastened out of 
 it with his eyes fixed upon the ground, 
 wandered through the park, and just as he 
 came out of a copse of trees by the pond, 
 Sonnenkamp met him. He had a foreign 
 look in his short gray plush-jacket fastened 
 with cord, and was especially glad to find 
 Eric already up, proposing to himself to 
 show him the house and grounds. 
 
 He directed his attention first to a large 
 tuft of prairie-grass ; he smiled as Eric im- 
 agined a stampede of buffaloes, and he 
 made a peculiar motion of throwing, in des- 
 cribing how he had caught many a one with 
 the lasso. 
 
 Then he led Eric to an elevation set 
 out with beautiful plane-trees, which he 
 pointed out as the very crown of the whole 
 place. He prided himself very much upon I 
 
 these fair and flourishing trees, adding that 
 in such a tract as the wine-district, destitute 
 of shade, a thickly shaded place was a thing 
 to be taken into consideration against a hot 
 day of summer. 
 
 " You will perceive that I have gone be- 
 yond my own territory, in order to add to 
 its beauty ; above there upon the height is 
 a group of trees, which I have kept in order 
 and thinned out, laying out paths, and 
 making new plantations, in order to get a 
 picturesque view. I have built my house 
 not to please the eyes of others, but where 
 I could have the best prospect from it. 
 The peasant's house yonder was built after 
 a plan of my own, and I was very properly 
 obliged to contribute a part of the cost. 
 That plantation beyond is a screen to hide 
 the glaring stone-quarry ; and that pretty 
 church spire above there in the mountain- 
 village, — that was built by me. I was very 
 highly praised for doing it, and a great deal 
 of flattering, pious incense was burned for 
 me, but I can assure you that my sole mo- 
 tive in doing it was to gain a fine view. I 
 am obliged to change the whole character 
 of the region — a very difficult job — and 
 here comes in the covetousness of people. 
 Just see, a basket-maker builds him a 
 house yonder, with a horribly steep roof 
 covered with red tiles, that is a perpetual 
 eye-sore to me ; and I cannot reach the 
 fellow. He wishes to sell the house to me 
 for an extravagant price, but what can I 
 do with it ? He may just keep it, and ac- 
 commodate himself to my arrangements." 
 
 There was a violent energy in Sonnen- 
 kamp's manner of speaking, reminding Eric 
 of an expression of Bella's, that the man 
 was a conqueror ; such an one has always 
 something tyrannical in him, and desires to 
 arrange and dispose everything in the 
 world according to his own individual taste, 
 or his own personal whims. The villages, 
 the churches, the mountains, and the woods, 
 were to him only points in the landscape, 
 and they must all come into one favorite 
 angle of vision. 
 
 And now Herr Sonnenkamp conducted 
 his guest through the park, and explained 
 to him how he had arranged the grounds, 
 and how through the disposition of eleva- 
 tions and depressions he had broken up 
 the uniformity ; but that in many cases he 
 had only to bring out the natural advan- 
 tages, and give them their right effect : he 
 pointed out the careful disposition of light 
 and shadow, and how he oftentimes set out 
 a clump of trees, a little group of the same 
 species, which he mingled together not in 
 sharp and distinct contrast, but in regular 
 gradation of colors, such as we see in nature. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 61 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled in a very friendly 
 way, when Eric, in order to show that he 
 comprehended, replied, that a park must 
 appear to be nature brought into a state 
 of cultivation ; and that the more one 
 knows how to conceal the shaping hand 
 and the disposing human genius, and al- 
 lows all to appear as a spontaneous growth, 
 so much the more is it in accordance with 
 the pure laws of art. 
 
 A little brook, which came down from the 
 mountain and emptied into the river, was 
 made to wind about with such skill, that it 
 kept disappearing and appearing again at 
 unexpected points, saying by its murmur, 
 "Here I am." 
 
 In the disposition of resting-places, par- 
 ticularly good, judgment was exhibited. 
 Under a solitary weeping-ash that cast a 
 perfectly circular shadow, a pretty seat 
 was placed for a single person, and it 
 seemed to say invitingly, "Here thou canst 
 be alone ! " The seat, however, was turned 
 over, and leaned up against the tree. 
 
 "This is my daughter's favorite spot," 
 Sonnenkamp said. 
 
 " And have you turned over the seat, so 
 that no one may occupy it before your child 
 returns ? " 
 
 "No," Sonnenkamp replied, "that is 
 entirely by chance, but you are right, so it 
 shall be." 
 
 The two went on farther, but Eric hardly 
 saw the beautiful, comfortable benches, and 
 hardly listened while Sonnenkamp declared 
 to him that he did not place these on the 
 open path, but behind shrubbery, so that 
 here was a solitude all ready made. 
 
 A table was placed under a beautiful 
 maple, with two seats opposite one another. 
 Sonnenkamp announced that this place was 
 named the school ; for here Roland at in- 
 tervals received instruction. Eric rejoined 
 that he never should teach sitting in the 
 open air ; it was natural to give instruction 
 while walking, but regular, definite teach- 
 ing, which demanded concentration of the 
 mind, demanded also an enclosed space in 
 which the voice would not be utterly lost. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had now a good opportu- 
 nity to tell Eric what conclusion he had ar- 
 rived at in regard to the matter in hand, 
 but he was silent. As an artist takes de- 
 light in the criticisms of an intelligent ob- 
 server, who unfolds to him concealed 
 beauties which he was hardly aware of him- 
 self, so he took delight in perceiving how 
 understandingly, and with how much grati- 
 fication, Eric took note of the various im- 
 provementss and of the grouping of trees 
 and shrubs. 
 
 . They stood a long time before a group 
 
 where the gloomy cedar was placed near 
 the hardy fir, and the gentle morning 
 breeze whispered in the foliage of the sil- 
 ver poplar, and caused the white leaves to 
 glisten like little rippling waves upon the 
 surface of a lake. 
 
 Near a little pond with a fountain was a 
 bower of roses, upon a gentle elevation, 
 patterned according to a dream of Frau 
 Ceres ; and here Sonnenkamp remained 
 stationary, saying : 
 
 " That was at the time when I was still 
 very happy here in our settlement, and 
 when everything was still in a sound and 
 healthy condition." 
 
 Eric stopped, questionin whether he 
 ought to tell Herr Sonnenkamp of yes- 
 terday's strange occurrence. Sonnenkamp 
 said, accompanying his words with peculiar 
 little puffs, as if he were lightly and care- 
 fully blowing a fire, — 
 
 " My wife often has strange whims ; but 
 if she is not contradicted she soon forgets 
 them." 
 
 He appeared suddenly to remember that 
 it was not necessary to say this, and added 
 with unusual haste, — 
 
 "Now come, and I will show you my 
 special vanity. But let me ask you one 
 thing ; does it not seem dreadful to you, 
 who are a philosopher, that we must leave 
 all this, that we know we must die ; and 
 while everything around continues to grow 
 green and bloom, he who planted and 
 acquired the means to plant is here no 
 more, but moulders in the dust? " 
 
 " I should not have believed that you in- 
 dulged in such thoughts." 
 
 "You are right to answer so. You 
 must not ask such questions, for no one 
 knows their answer," said Sonnenkamp 
 sharply and bitterly ; " but one thing more. 
 I wish Roland to understand rightly this 
 creation of mine and to carry it on, for 
 such a garden is not like a piece of sculp- 
 ture, or any finished work of an artist ; it 
 is growing, and must be constantly re- 
 newed. And why should there not be 
 granted us the certainty of transmitting to 
 our posterity what we have conquered, 
 created, or fashioned, without fear that 
 strangers will at some time enter into pos- 
 session and let all go to waste ? " 
 
 "You believe," answered Eric, "that I 
 know no answer to the first of your ques- 
 tions, and I must confess, that I do not 
 quite understand the second." 
 
 "Well, well, perhaps we will talk of it 
 again — perhaps not," Sonnenkamp broke 
 off. " But come now and let me show you 
 my special pride." 
 
62 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 SÖNNENKAMP'S PRIDE. 
 
 They stepped immediately out of the 
 shady, well -wooded park, whose margin 
 was planted with noble white-pines, into a 
 wonderful and complicated arrangement of 
 orchard-trees, in a level field several acres 
 in extent, that had a truly magical effect. 
 
 The plats were bordered with dwarf-apple 
 and pear-trees that looked very much like 
 small yews ; their stems were hardly two 
 feet in height, and the branches on each 
 side so disposed on wires, that they ex- 
 tended to the width of thirty feet. These 
 were now in full bloom the whole length, 
 and the arrangement exhibited man's ener- 
 getic and shaping volition, where nature 
 was compelled to become a free work of 
 art, and even warped into a dwarfish over- 
 refinement. Trees of all imaginable ge- 
 ometrical forms were placed, sometimes in 
 circles and sometimes in rows. Here was 
 a tree that, from the bottom to the top 
 which shot up into a sharp point, had only 
 four branches at an even distance from 
 each other, and directed to the four car- 
 dinal points. On the walls, trees were 
 trained exactly in the shape of a candela- 
 brum with two branches ; others had stems 
 and branches adjusted obliquely, like ba- 
 saltic strata. All was according to artistic 
 rules, and also in the most thriving condi- 
 tion. 
 
 Eric listened attentively while Sonnen- 
 kamp was informing him that the limbs must 
 be cut in, so that the sap might all perfect 
 the fruit, and not go too much to the for- 
 mation of wood. 
 
 "Perhaps you have a feeling of pity for 
 these clipped branches?" Sonnenkamp 
 asked in a sharp tone. 
 
 "Not at all; but the old, natural form 
 of the fruit-trees so well known to us — " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," Sonnenkamp broke in, 
 " people are horrible creatures of preju- 
 dice ! Is there any >one who sees anything 
 ugly, anything coercive, in pruning the 
 vine three times every season? No one. 
 No one looks for beauty, but for beautiful 
 fruit, from the vine ; so also from the fruit- 
 tree. As soon as they began to bud and to 
 graft, the way was indicated, and I am only 
 following it consistently. The ornamental 
 tree is to be ornamental, and the fruit-tree 
 a fruit-tree, each after its kind. This ap- 
 ple-tree must have its limbs just so, and 
 have just so many of them, as will make it 
 bear the largest apples and the greatest 
 possible number. I want from a fruit-tree 
 not wood, but fruit." 
 
 " But nature " 
 
 •« Nature ! Nature ! " Sonnenkamp ex- 
 claimed, in a contemptuous tone. " Nine- 
 tenths of what they call nature is nothing 
 but an artificial sham, and a whimsical con- 
 ceit. The spirit of nature and the spirit of 
 the age are a pair of idols which you phi- 
 losophers have manufactured for yourselves. 
 There is no such thing as nature, and there 
 is no such thing as an age; and even if 
 there were both, you cannot predicate spirit 
 of either of them." 
 
 Eric was deeply struck by this apparently 
 combative and violently aggressive manner 
 of speaking ; and yet more so, when Son- 
 nenkamp now leaned over suddenly, and 
 said : — 
 
 " The real man to educate would be he 
 who was able to train men as these trees 
 are trained : for some immediate end, with 
 no superfluous trash and no roundabout 
 methods. What they call nature is a fable. 
 There is no nature, or at least only an in- 
 finitesimal particle. With us human be- 
 ings everything is habit, education, tradi- 
 tion. There's no such thing as nature." 
 
 " That is something new to me," Eric 
 said, when he was at last able to put in a 
 word. "The gentlemen of tradition call 
 us men of science deniers of God, but a 
 denier of nature I have never until now 
 become acquainted with, and never have 
 even heard him mentioned. You are jok- 
 ing." 
 
 " Well, yes, I am joking," said Sonnen- 
 kamp, bitterly. 
 
 And Eric, who seemed to himself to be 
 utterly bewildered, added in a low tone : — 
 
 " Perhaps it may be said that those who 
 derive the laws of our life from revelation 
 deny nature, or rather they do not deny 
 her, but disregard her." 
 
 "I am not a learned man, and, above all, 
 I am no theologian," Sonnenkamp abruptly 
 broke in. "All is fate. Damage is done 
 by worms in the forest ; there stands near 
 us an oak-tree clean eaten up by them, and 
 there stands another all untouched. Why 
 is this? No one knows. And look here 
 at these trees. I have watched what they 
 call the economy of nature, and here a 
 thousand life-germs perish in order that one 
 may thrive ; and it is just the same in hu- 
 man life." 
 
 "I understand," Eric said. "All the 
 things that survive have an aristocratic 
 element wholly different from those things 
 that perish ; the blossom that unfolds itself 
 to the perfect fruit is rich, the blighted one 
 is poor. Do I rightly apprehend your 
 meaning ? " 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 63 
 
 "In part," Sonnenkamp replied, some- 
 what weary. " I would only say to you that 
 I have done looking for the man, for I 
 despair of finding him, who could train my 
 son, so that h« would be fitted in the most 
 direct way for his position in life." 
 
 For some time the two walked together 
 through the marvellously-blooming garden, 
 where the bees were humming ; and Eric 
 thought that these, probably, were the bees 
 of Claus, the huntsman. 
 
 World passing strange, in which all is so 
 unaccountably associated together ! 
 
 The sky was blue, and the blossoms so 
 deliciously fragrant, and yet Eric, deeply 
 troubled in spirit, seemed to himself to be 
 insnared when he fixed his eyes upon a no- 
 tice stuck up over the garden wall, which 
 ran thus : — 
 
 "Warning. Spring-guns and steel- traps 
 in this garden." 
 
 He looked around to Sonnenkamp, who 
 said, smiling, — 
 
 " Your look asks me if that notice yon- 
 der is true ; it is just as that says. People 
 think that no one dares to do that now. 
 Keep always in the path near me." 
 
 Sonnenkamp appeared to enjoy Eric's 
 perplexity and annoyance. And yet it was 
 a lie, for there were no spring-guns nor 
 steel-traps in the garden. 
 
 On this part of the wall, stars, circles, 
 and squares, were shaped out of the tree- 
 twigs ; and Sonnenkamp laid his hand upon 
 the shoulder of Eric, as the latter asserted 
 that number and geometric form were 
 given only to man. Geometric form, in- 
 deed, was the basis of all manifestation, 
 and the straight line was never actually 
 seen, but must be wholly the product of 
 man's conception. This was also the char- 
 acteristic mystery in the doctrine of Py- 
 thagoras. 
 
 "I have thought for a long time," Son- 
 nenkamp said with a laugh, " that I was a 
 Pythagorean. I thank you for nominating 
 me, as one of the sect. We must christen 
 our new art of gardening the Pythago- 
 rean." 
 
 This outburst, was in a bantering tone of 
 contempt and satisfaction. 
 
 They came to the place called Nice, by 
 the colonnade constructed in the Pompeian 
 style, which extended very far on the sec- 
 ond terrace of the orchard. 
 
 ** Now I will show you my house," Son- 
 nenkamp said, pressing against a little door 
 which opened upon a subterranean passage, 
 and conducting his guest into the habita- 
 tion. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A LOOK INTO THE HOUSE AND INTO THE 
 HEART. 
 
 Men-servants and maid-servants in the 
 under-ground rooms were amazed to see 
 Sonnenkamp and Eric make their entrance. 
 Sonnenkamp, without noticing them, said 
 to Eric in English : — 
 
 " The two things to be first considered 
 by a man consulting for repose, as I am, 
 are the kitchen and the stable." 
 
 He showed him the kitchen. There 
 were dozens of different fire-places for the 
 different dishes^ and each kind of meat and 
 vegetables ; each viand had its special dish 
 and pan, tire on the side and behind. The 
 whole science of the preparation of extracts 
 was here transported into the art of cook- 
 ery. Eric was delighted with it as with a 
 work of art. - 
 
 Sonnenkamp pointed out to his guest for 
 special notice the fact that every fire-place 
 and every stove in the house had its own 
 chimney ; he considered that as of great 
 importance, as he had by that means made 
 himself independent of the direction in 
 which the wind might blow. The architect 
 had resisted him on that point, and he had 
 undergone great trouble and expense to 
 have the requisite flues constructed, but by 
 this means new beauties had been devel- 
 oped. 
 
 Sonnenkamp now showed him the greater 
 part of the house, through which electro- 
 magnetic bell-wires ran in every direction. 
 The stairs were richly carpeted, everywhere 
 were costly candelabra, and in the cham- 
 bers broad double-beds. 
 
 Everything was arranged with elegance 
 and taste, a truly chaste elegance and refined 
 taste, where gold, marble, and silk contribu- 
 ted to the artistic decoration, with no over- 
 loading of ornament, and with a preserva- 
 tion of the appearance of home-like com- 
 fort. The furniture was not standing about 
 like things looking for some fitting place, 
 but every piece was adapted to the build- 
 ing itself, and seemed fixed, and at home ; 
 and yet the arrangement had this peculiar 
 feature, that all the furniture appeared 
 waiting for the inmates to come and occupy 
 it, and not placed there to be gazed at by 
 them in passing to and fro. 
 
 The heavy silk curtains, hanging in thick 
 folds, were matched with the carpets ; the 
 large clocks in all the saloons were ticking, 
 and the delicate works of art on the man- 
 tles and brackets were tastefully arranged. 
 But it was plainly to be seen that this ar- 
 
64 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 rangement gave no physiognomical indica- 
 tion of the character of the owner, but was 
 only the tasteful skill which every good up- 
 holsterer supplies to order; and, above all, 
 one felt the absence of anything like an 
 heir-loom. Eric could not rid himself of 
 the impression that the persons here lived 
 in their own house as if it were a hired 
 one, and it seemed to him that Roland was 
 following him, and that he must enter 
 into the soul of the boy, who was already 
 aware that some day he would call all this 
 his own. 
 
 Sonnenkamp declared that he thought it 
 contemptible for people to embellish their 
 houses with mediaeval furniture, or the imi- 
 tation of that, while it answered the pur- 
 pose neither of ornament nor of comfort. 
 When Eric replied to him, that Goethe had 
 expressed the same thing, Sonnenkamp 
 answered: "That is very pleasant tome. 
 I think that Goethe understood life." 
 
 He uttered this in a very condescending 
 tone, as much as to say, that any one must 
 esteem himself fortunate to have Herr Son- 
 nenkamp recognise his worth. 
 
 On the north side of the house in the 
 large saloon, covered with a red Persian 
 carpet, was a half-octagon recess, in the 
 middle of which stood a handsome mala- 
 chite table surrounded by fixed chairs. 
 
 Four large windows, or rather four sin- 
 gle panes of glass six feet in height, gave 
 a free outlook ; and in the spaces between 
 the windows tablets of marble were insert- 
 ed, half way up, on which were sculptured 
 the four parts of the "Day" of Rietschel. 
 The ceiling was ornamented with fine stuc- 
 co-work, from which a silver lamp seemed 
 to fly forth, rather than to hang down, for 
 it took the form of a flying Cupid of 
 bronze, holding a torch in his hand, and 
 this torch, as Sonnenkamp immediately il- 
 lustrated, could be lighted as a gas- 
 burner. 
 
 44 Only here," he said smiling, 44 do I have 
 works of art, insomuch as I would neither 
 deceive myself nor others — I have no 
 taste for creative art. You, as the son of 
 a Professor of ^Esthetics, perhaps consider 
 this very barbarous ? " 
 
 "Not at all, only honest; and I think 
 you are so far entitled to do as you think 
 best." 
 
 " It is a duty for every one to be honest, 
 and there is no choice in the matter." 
 
 " Pardon me if I have expressed myself 
 badly. I mean, that even the realm of art 
 is not free from rival claims ; and he who 
 has such a manifest gift for landscape-gar- 
 dening, ought to be content with that, and 
 
 can refrain from expressing himself in any 
 other art." 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled. This man, he thought, 
 knows always how to come down on his feet. 
 
 He led his guest into the* music-saloon. 
 It had no gilding nor satin, only a centre- 
 piece on the ceiling, and sea-green hang- 
 ings on the walls. In the niches made by 
 two small chimneys were brown, stuffed 
 damask seats and sofas. This saloon 
 seemed to be continually waiting for a so- 
 cial company, either moving about, or 
 quietly seated. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled when Eric said that 
 he was pleased to see the music-saloon so 
 unadorned. The plain white had a sun- 
 shiny appearance, as if the sun lingered on 
 the walls, and the eye was not attracted to 
 any particular object, so that one could 
 listen all the more attentively, only one 
 sense being called into activity. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was yet more and more de- 
 lighted ; and when Eric inquired, 4 4 Which 
 one of your family is musical ? " he an- 
 swered, — 
 
 44 This saloon is intended for my daugh- 
 
 44 Wonderful," said Eric; 44 yonder in 
 the garden the upturned seat, and here the 
 music-saloon, is expecting her." 
 
 Sonnenkamp, as he often did, took his un- 
 der-lip between his fore-finger and thumb ; 
 he appeared to be either intending to say 
 something, or wishing to keep something 
 back. 
 
 4 4 As we are talking about my daughter, 
 I will just show you her room," he said 
 suddenly, opening a side-door. 
 
 They entered a little apartment, in which 
 the Venetian blinds were down. Sonnen- 
 kamp at once drew them entirely up. The 
 prospect extended over the long vine-arbor 
 and beyond the Rhine. The room was 
 plain, but all was extremely pretty. A 
 number of photographs, wreathed with blue 
 ribbon into a circle, in the centre of which 
 was a large picture of the pope, hung upon 
 the wall. The white curtains of the white 
 bed, now drawn back, allowed a beauti- 
 fully carved ivory crucifix on the wall to be 
 seen, while below it hung a neatly framed 
 colored engraving, a sort of diploma, ad- 
 mitting Hermanna, styled Manna Sonnen- 
 kamp, into the band of good children. 
 
 A writing-table, a small book-shelf, taste- 
 ful chairs, everything showed that here was 
 the abode of a maiden who quietly lived ' 
 within herself, occupied chiefly with reli- 
 gious meditations. In the chamber itself 
 there seemed to be the hovering spirit of 
 prayer, and one involuntarily looked round 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 65 
 
 to see the maiden herself come in,with those 
 large childlike eyes immediately cast down 
 at beholding her sanctuary intruded upon. 
 
 Eric's glance became fixed upon a hand- 
 some chimney-piece of green marble, whose 
 semi-circular edge was bordered with living 
 ivy, while the entire chimney-place was 
 filled with flowers and growing plants. No 
 flower-pots were to be seen, for they were 
 skilfully concealed ; it was all a mysterious 
 growth of leaves and flowers. 
 
 "Does that please you?" Sonnenkamp 
 asked. 44 Yes, my daughter always has the 
 chimney-place filled with flowers in sum- 
 mer, and I think that Fräulein Perini has 
 continued the practice in memory of her." 
 
 Eric continued to stare at the plants ; 
 and he fancied that he could read some- 
 thing of the character of the maiden who in 
 summer kept the fire-place covered with 
 flowers. Here Sonnenkamp laid a heavy 
 hand on his shoulder, and said : — 
 
 44 Are you entirely honest ? You have 
 not come here on my son's account, but on 
 my daughter's." 
 
 do not comprehend," Eric replied. 
 
 ' ' Were you not at the convent ? Have 
 you not seen my daughter ? " 
 
 " Yes, both ; but I had not the most re- 
 mote knowledge of you, or your daughter, 
 or your son." 
 
 44 I believe it. But have you not con- 
 ceived the idle fancy, that by taking up 
 your abode in my house, you may perhaps 
 win the affections of my daughter ? " 
 
 "I thank you for this directness," Eric 
 responded, " and I will use equal direct- 
 ness in my reply. I should consider it the 
 misfortune of my life, if I should have the 
 feeling of love towards your daughter." 
 
 44 Towards my daughter ? Why so ? " 
 
 44 Because I should esteem it a misfor- 
 tune to love a maiden of such great wealth, 
 without taking into view her Catholic opin- 
 ions. I would never marry so rich a girl, 
 and I would let my heart break before I 
 would do it. I now beseech you — it is not 
 entirely impossible that mistrust, by and 
 by, may be awakened from this source — I 
 beseech you, openly and directly, not to 
 give me this situation in your family. It is 
 better ; I have been this short time your 
 guest, and I thank you for your great kind- 
 ness." 
 
 44 Young man, you remain. I believe 
 you, and I trust you. I thank you for 
 teaching me to have confidence again in a 
 human being, and to believe in a human be- 
 ing. You remain ! Give me your hand — 
 you remain ! We will settle all quietly. 
 Moreover, my daughter is — and I give you 
 here the best testimony of my confidence — 
 
 my daughter is as good as betrothed to the 
 Baron von Pranken. Now come into my 
 own work-room." 
 
 They entered it. Everything here was 
 arranged with a special attention to con- 
 venience. For every frame of mind, and 
 every season of the year, for solitude and 
 for society, chairs, tables, and sofas were 
 disposed everywhere for comfort, as much 
 as one room could contain. There was a 
 vast space, and yet a homelike seclusion ; 
 and this south side was admirably situated 
 for a view of the landscape. Here could be 
 seen, outside, the smooth beeches and plane- 
 trees, which hid from view the bare-looking 
 vineyards, and suffered the eye to rest 
 upon the summits of the wooded heights ; 
 and directly in front of the balcony window 
 there was a full view of the ruins of the cas- 
 tle, which, as Eric had already heard, was 
 being rebuilt by the order of Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp, and under the special supervision of 
 the major. 
 
 A single, beautiful painting hung here ; 
 it was a life-sized portrait of Roland, in his 
 seventh year. The boy sat upon an over- 
 turned antique column, his hand upon the 
 head of a splendid Newfoundland dog, and 
 gazing into the distance. 
 
 A large arm-chest stood here with weap- 
 ons of all sorts. 
 
 While Eric was looking about, Sonnen- 
 kamp shoved back two doors which were 
 let into the walls, and he led the way into 
 what he called his library. No books were 
 to be seen, nothing but great boxes, vessels 
 of porcelain and clay, as in a well-arranged 
 apothecary's shop ; and Sonnenkamp ex- 
 plained that these contained seeds from all 
 the different parts of the earth. 
 
 From the seed-room a special stair-case 
 led into the garden, and this stair-case was 
 entirely grown over with the Chinese honey- 
 suckle, which was now in full bloom with 
 its clusters of blue papilionaceous flowers. 
 Sonnenkamp conducted his guest back into 
 the large work-room, and there said that it 
 had, formerly, been his desire that Roland 
 should have an inclination to enter upon the 
 active life which he himself had now retired 
 from. He spoke of trade. Eric was 
 amazed at the vast, comprehensive glance 
 which Sonnenkamp took of the business of 
 the world : for him there was no isolated 
 activity, no isolated product ; one part of 
 the world subsisted only through another ; 
 and the whole earth was for him one great 
 market-place, where iron, wool, tobacco, 
 and grain received his attention at the same 
 time, and whether in Sweden, Scotland, the 
 East Indies, or Havana, were brought to 
 one common warehouse. 
 
CG 
 
 TUE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Sonnenkamp seemed to be desirous, to- 
 day, to compensate Eric for his unreserved 
 communication, and Eric was astonished at 
 the broad and strong grasp of the man's 
 view, so that all his schemes were well cal- 
 culated and sure of success ; this vast power 
 of insight was visible in all his talk. He 
 had seen the wide world with that kcen- 
 sightedness characteristic of the English 
 and Americans, who, of all nations, consume 
 the smallest number of spectacles. He 
 seized hold of the main features, without 
 burdening himself with the incidental, and 
 without being hindered by any afterthought ; 
 he described with great objectivity what he 
 had seen in foreign lands, as well as what 
 he had done in his own. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was well aware of the im- 
 pression he had made upon Eric, and nod- 
 ded, smiling, when the latter expressed his 
 opinion how grand it must be not only to 
 possess, but also to acquire and to be. 
 
 " Reflect seriously upon this, 11 Sonnen- 
 kamp said, — " what would you make, and 
 what am I to make, of Roland ? You have 
 seen so much, 11 he added with a look of 
 elation, " that you would not seek to change 
 me and my family, if you should undertake 
 the education of my son." 
 
 This last remark dissipated, to a certain 
 extent, the deep impression which Sonnen- 
 kamp had made upon Eric. The whole ap- 
 peared a premeditated affair. 
 
 A servant came to inform Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp that Herr von Pranken wished to 
 take leave of him. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 DEVIL GETTING WONTED. 
 
 Pranken's horse stood saddled in the 
 court, and Pranken himself was walking up 
 and down, snapping his riding-whip. In 
 exceedingly good spirits, and in a very 
 amiable mood, he hastened to meet Son- 
 nenkamp, saying that he must take leave 
 of him. There was a tone of bantering 
 politeness in their manner towards each 
 other. When Sonnenkamp remarked that 
 Pranken was always surprising one, never 
 saying that he was going aw*ay until the 
 very moment of starting, Pranken an- 
 swered, with mock modesty, that he was 
 sure that he must in that way meet the ap- 
 proval of his friend Sonnenkamp, for noth- 
 ing was more disagreeable, and made life 
 more insipid and dull, than a constant talk- 
 ing over and discussion and cooking up 
 of plans ; he shot the hare, and left it to be 
 dressed by the artists of the kitchen. 
 
 Pranken said all that with his usual rat- 
 tling manner, as he twisted the end of his 
 
 light moustache. He took a cool leave of 
 Eric, saying that he hoped to find him still 
 there on his return from a short journey. 
 
 "Should you, however, leave before I 
 come back, have the kindness to present 
 my respects to the gracious — 11 he paused 
 a moment, then added, "to the Professors 
 lady, your mother. 11 
 
 He had taken off his glove when he said 
 good-bye to Sonnenkamp, but drew it on 
 again before he held out his hand to Eric, 
 and it was evident that he did so intention- 
 ally. This coldness was rather agreeable 
 to Eric ; a part of his debt of gratitude was 
 removed as Pranken treated him more dis- 
 tantly, and they could perhaps be more 
 harmonious and independent when they 
 were thrown together. 
 
 Pranken called Sonnenkamp aside, and 
 said,' though he certainly had recommended 
 the young scholar — haughtily emphasizing 
 this expression — he would beg him not to 
 conclude any hasty engagement without 
 making a strict examination himself. 
 
 " Herr Baron, 1 ' replied Sonnenkamp, " I 
 am a merchant — 11 he made a watchful 
 pause before continuing, — ' ' and I know 
 what recommendations are, and how often 
 one is forced to give them. I assure you 
 that you are free from all responsibility, 
 and as to the examination myself — I am a 
 merchant, Herr Baron — 11 again the wary 
 pause, — " the young man is the seller, and 
 a seller always has to lay himself open, and 
 to show what he is, more fully than the buyer, 
 especially here, where the seller is offering 
 himself for sale. 11 \ 
 
 Pranken smiled, and said that was the 
 deepest diplomacy. He went to his 
 horse, vaulted nimbly into the saddle, and 
 set off at a gallop. Sonnenkamp called 
 after him that he must see whether the 
 magnolia in the convent yard was thriving ; 
 he waved his hat to show that he under- 
 stood, and rode away at full speed. 
 
 "A charming, agreeable young man! 
 always bright and merry, 11 Sonnenkamp 
 said, as he looked after Pranken ; and he 
 went on to remark, at some length, on his 
 constant light-heartedness. 
 
 Eric was silent. There seemed to pre- 
 vail in this circle into which he was intro- 
 duced, a perpetual commenting and re- 
 marking upon others. He knew Pranken, 
 he knew this everlasting galloping style of 
 utterance, which is always so extremely an- 
 imated, and even becomes enthusiastic 
 when the conversation can be turned into 
 an emulous contest of raillery. But this 
 galloping genius had a deep foundation of 
 insincerity, for it was not possible to be 
 strained up every moment to this pitch ; it 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 67 
 
 could only be the result of violent tension, 
 which must perpetually make a show of en- 
 ergy, and in this constant effort the soul 
 must, consciously or unconsciously, put on 
 a false appearance. 
 
 Eric quietly listened to his remaining 
 statements, and only when Sonnenkamp 
 asked him whether he did not think that 
 the man, who had from his youth been con- 
 scious of a superior rank, could alone attain 
 to this regal and sportive mastery over life, 
 only then did he answer, that no fair prov- 
 ince of life was shut out from the middle 
 class. 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded very acquiescingly. 
 His saddle-horse was now brought to him, 
 and he. immediately mounted and rode off. 
 
 Eric went in search of Roland, and found 
 him with his dogs. The boy desired that 
 Eric should at once select one of them for 
 himself. " And only think," he added, " a 
 day-laborer just informs me that the dwarf 
 has received a bite from Devil. Served the 
 stupid fellow exactly right, for trying to do 
 what he wasn't fit to do." 
 
 Eric was shocked. Was it possible that 
 a young heart could already be so stony ? 
 He laid down to Roland at length how in- 
 human it was to regard a human being as a 
 mere puppet, and to have no further con- 
 cern about him, after one has had his sport 
 out of him. His whole heart was moved 
 with feeling as he spoke. Roland disdain- 
 fully threw back his head. 
 
 "Why do you make no reply to me?" 
 Eric asked. 
 
 * * Ah ! I had no idea that you would preach 
 to me like all the rest." 
 
 Attracted by the beauty of the boy, and 
 his bold spirit, Eric had come to the deter- 
 mination to devote himself to him, and 
 now, for an instant, he experienced a re- 
 vulsion of feeling, but only to devote him- 
 self with fresh earnestness to his resolve. 
 He would soften and thaw out this soul, 
 naturally hard, or made so by the training 
 it had received. 
 
 Roland went up quietly to Eric, and re- 
 quested him to ride out with him. They 
 rode together to the village. But Roland 
 could not be induced to visit the dwarf, 
 whom Eric found lying on the bed, moan- 
 ing and groaning. When he arrived at the 
 house of the huntsman, he did not find 
 Roland, who had gone with Devil into the 
 woods upon the height. 
 
 The huntsman greeted Eric less submis- 
 sively ; he lifted his cap, indeed, but only to 
 cock it a little one side ; he approached 
 him in that familiar way so common on the 
 upper Rhine, where it always seems as if 
 
 one would touch glasses, and make himself 
 friendly with you. 
 
 " Captain," he asked, " have you settled 
 matters ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "May I be permitted to say something 
 to you ? " 
 
 "If it is something good, why not ? " 
 
 "That's just as one takes it. That one, 
 down there " — he pointed with his thumb 
 back to the villa — "that one is buying up 
 the whole Rhine-land. But see you, that 
 fox-hound there — " 
 
 "Stop," at once exclaimed Eric, pro- 
 ceeding to point out, in a very decisive man- 
 ner, that he bad no right to speak so to 
 him, and about another person. 
 
 Eric was aware that he had not properly 
 preserved his own dignity, or this man 
 would not have been able to approach him 
 so familiarly ; and he was now more se- 
 vere in repelling this forwardness than he 
 intended. The hunstman only puffed the 
 more vigorously at his pipe, and then 
 said, — 
 
 "Yes, yes, you are the one to seize the 
 man down there by the throat, and I see 
 that you are too smart for me. You wish 
 to get off from thanking me ; I want no 
 thanks, and no pay." 
 
 He muttered to himself, that everything 
 which came near the rich man was always 
 spoilt. 
 
 Eric must undo somewhat the impression 
 he had made, for the hunstman was the only 
 one who could rival him in his influence 
 over Roland. The hunstman took, in very 
 good part, Eric's expressions of friendliness, 
 but he remained silent. When Roland 
 came back, Eric asked him nothing about 
 his excursion to the woods, and told him 
 nothing about the dwarf. It was Roland's 
 place to ask him, but the boy said nothing, 
 and they both rode back in silence. 
 
 Eric immediately caused himself to be 
 announced to Herr Sonnenkamp, and in- 
 formed him that he now felt compelled to 
 assume a definite relation with Roland. 
 
 "You find Roland, then, an excellent 
 youth ? " 
 
 " He has great boldness, determination, 
 and — I know that a father can only hear 
 it with unwilling ears, but after your search- 
 ing inquiries yesterday, I may be permitted 
 to hope that you are sufficiently free to — " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly; only speak out." 
 
 " I find -a degree of hard-heartedness, 
 and a want of sympathy with the purely hu- 
 man, surprising at such an age;" and Eric 
 related how Roland had deported himself 
 in regard to the dwarf. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 68 
 
 A peculiar smile darted over Sonnen- 
 kamp's features, as he asked, — 
 
 " And do you feel confident that you 
 can make a corrupted nature noble ? " 
 
 " Pardon me, 1 said nothing about a cor- 
 rupted nature ; I should say, rather, that 
 Roland is just now changing his voice, in a 
 spiritual sense, and one cannot judge what 
 tone it will take ; but so much the more ne- 
 cessity is there for care in the kind of influ- 
 ence exerted." 
 
 " And what is your opinion of Roland's 
 talents P * 
 
 " I think that he is not superior to the 
 average. He has a good natural under- 
 standing, and a quick comprehension, but 
 persistency, — that is indeed very question- 
 able, and I have already observed that he 
 goes along well enough a certain distance, 
 then comes to a standstill, and will pursue 
 the thought no farther. I am not yet very 
 clear in regard to this mental characteristic ; 
 if it cannot be changed for the better, I 
 should fear that Roland would be unhappy, 
 for he would experience no abiding satis- 
 faction, nor would he feel the delight, nor 
 the obligation, of perseverance. Yet this is, 
 perhaps, drawing too fine a thread." 
 
 " No, no, you are right. I place no re- 
 liance upon my son's stability of character ; 
 he only lives from hand to mouth. It is a 
 bore to him to do anything of which he can- 
 not see the direct result. 
 
 " That is the way with children. But 
 such children never make sterling men ; 
 therefore I wanted Roland to love plants, 
 as he would then be obliged to learn that 
 there was something which can at no time 
 be neglected or forgotten." 
 
 "Iam rejoiced," Eric replied, " that you 
 here remind me of the most vital points. 
 First of all, the rich man, and the son of a 
 rich man, like the prince and the son of 
 a prince, have only subservient friends. 
 Against my will I have become Roland's 
 play-fellow, and so' the subsequent serious 
 work will be interfered with." 
 
 "Is it impossible then, to combine work 
 and play ? " 
 
 *' I hope to do so. But the necessity of 
 work must be recognized." Eric contin- 
 ued silent, and Sonnenkamp asked, — 
 
 " You have still another point P " 
 
 " Most certainly, and it is this. As I 
 have already suggested, Roland must ac- 
 quire a steadfast relation to external things, 
 an intimate bond of union with them, as 
 then only will he be at home in the world. 
 He who has no recollections of childhood, 
 no deep attachment to that which has trans- 
 pired around him, is cut off from the very 
 fountain-head of genial and hearty affection. 
 
 Question yourself, and you will find-^- 
 your return to Germany fully proves it — 
 that the heartfelt, endearing, recollections 
 of childhood were the very sustenance, 
 what one may perhaps call the spiritual 
 mother's milk, of your deepest soul." 
 
 Sonnenkamp winced at these words, and 
 Eric added, — 
 
 " Homelessness is hurting the soal of 
 your son." 
 
 1 ' Homelessness ? " Sonnenkamp exclaimed 
 in astonishment. 
 
 His face quivered for an instant, and his 
 athletic strength seemed eager to make 
 some outward demonstration, but he re- 
 strained it within the bounds of forced com- 
 posure, asking, — 
 
 "Do I rightly apprehend you? Home- 
 lessness ? " 
 
 " That is what I think. The inner life 
 of the child needs training, that it may cling 
 to something; a journey is, perhaps, not 
 harmful to the soul of a child ; at the best, it 
 has little effect upon him. A child in trav- 
 elling has no distinct impression from all 
 the changes of the landscape ; he takes de- 
 light in the locomotive at the station, and 
 in the wind-mill on the hill. One fixed 
 point in the soul anchors it firmly. I said 
 that the human being ought to have an ob- 
 ject to strive for, but permit me to add to 
 that, that he must also have a fixed point of 
 departure, and that is the home. You said, 
 and I see it myself, that Roland takes no 
 real delight in anything; and is not that 
 owing to the fact that the boy is homeless, 
 a child of hotels, with no tap-root in any 
 place, and still more, no deep-seated im- 
 pressions, no pictures in his memory which 
 have become a portion of his very life, and 
 to which he returns from all his wayward 
 fancies ? He told me that he had played 
 in the Coliseum at Rome, in the Louvre 
 at Paris, in Hyde-park at London, and on 
 the lake of Geneva, — and now, living in 
 Europe, yet always proudly conscious of 
 being an American, — this causes — pardon 
 me, I only ask the question — does this not 
 cause a restlessness of spirit, which may be 
 fatal to any growth ? " 
 
 " I see," Sonnenkamp answered, leaning 
 back his head, "you are an incarnate, or 
 one might rather say, an insouled German, 
 who runs over the whole world, in reality 
 and in thought, and cajoles himself always 
 with the self-complacent notion, ' I am so 
 whole-souled, and that is more than the 
 rest Qf you are. 1 Pah ! I tell you that if I 
 bestow anything of worth upon my child, I 
 believe it will be just this, that he will be 
 free from that sentimentality of a so-called 
 settled home. The whistle of the locomo- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 69 
 
 tive scares away all the homesickness so ten- 
 derly pampered of old. We are in fact 
 cosmopolites, and that is just the greatness 
 of American civilization, that, not being 
 rooted in the past, national limitations and 
 rights of citizenship have no narrowing in- 
 fluence upon the soul. The home-attach- 
 ment is an old nuisance and a prejudice. 
 Roland is to become an untramelled man." 
 
 Eric was silent. After a considerable 
 time, he said : — 
 
 "It is, perhaps, not beneficial, but tire- 
 some, both to you and to me, to deal in 
 generalities. I would only say, that how- 
 ever little calculated travelling may be to 
 create an inner satisfaction, when there is 
 no definite object to be attained that one 
 can all along hold in view, much less can a 
 life that has no special aim of action, thought, 
 or enjoyment, confer any central peace. If 
 Roland now had some special talent — 11 
 
 " Do you find none at all in him? " 
 
 "I have discovered none as yet; and 
 still it seems to me, that if he had been 
 born under different circumstances, he 
 would have made a serviceable lock-smith, or 
 a good groom. I hope you do not misun- 
 derstand that — I consider it a guaranty for 
 human equality, that what a man becomes, 
 wholly or chiefly depends upon circumstan- 
 ces. Hundreds of judges would have be- 
 come, under different circumstances, com- 
 mon laborers, and hundreds of common 
 laborers would have become judges. As I 
 said before, it is to me a direct proof of the 
 universally diffused capacities of human 
 beings, that only the few have the genius 
 that absolutely demands a special work. 11 
 
 " I understand, I understand. And do 
 you think that you can train a boy, of whom 
 you have formed so low an opinion ? 11 
 
 " I have not a low opinion of Roland, 
 neither of his head nor his heart. He 
 seems to me not unsusceptible of love, but 
 it is to him an enjoyment, not also a duty ; 
 he has the qualities belonging to the aver- 
 age of men not marked by any special char- 
 acteristic, and those are entirely sufficient 
 to form him, under judicious and proper di- 
 rection, into a good and honorable man, 
 happy himself, and able to make others 
 happy. And I shall be very glad, in the 
 meanwhile, if I am mistaken in attributing 
 to Roland no special genius." 
 
 "I honor and value highly your great 
 earnestness, 11 Sonnenkamp interposed, "but 
 I am just now in great haste. Inform 
 Roland of your position." 
 
 He seemed out of humor, as he rolled his 
 cigar from one corner of his mouth to the 
 other, and busied himself with his papers, 
 just as if Eric were no longer present. 
 
 Eric left the work-room of Sonnenkamp, 
 and betook himself to Roland. He found 
 the boy busily employed in chewing a piece 
 of half-raw meat, and giving the chewed 
 morsels to the lately broken-in dog ; the 
 huntsman affirmed that that would attach 
 the dog to him inseparably. Eric looked 
 on a while, and then requested Roland to 
 send the dog away, as he had something to 
 say to him. 
 
 " Can't the dog stay with us ? " 
 
 Eric made no reply, for he saw that he 
 must first settle whether he or the dog had 
 the deepest hold. On his casting a sharp 
 look again upon Roland, the boy said, 
 " Come, Devil, wait here at the door," and 
 returning, he exclaimed, "There, now go 
 on." > 
 
 Eric took Roland^ hand, and informed 
 him that he had come to be his tutor. 
 Roland leaned his handsome head upon his 
 partly closed hand, gazing at the speaker 
 fixedly with his large, restless, glowing eyes. 
 
 " I knew it," he said at last. 
 
 " And who told you ? " 
 
 " The huntsman and Joseph." 
 
 11 And why did you say nothing to me 
 about it ? 11 
 
 Roland made no answer to this, only 
 looking at the speaker, as if he would say, 
 "lean wait." He only once removed his 
 gaze, when Eric added, that he had wished 
 to try first whether he was adapted to the 
 family. Roland still remained silent. The 
 dog scratched at the door ; Roland looked 
 towards it, but did not venture to open 
 it. Eric opened it. The dog sprang in, 
 crouched down before Roland, and then 
 went to Eric and licked his hands ; he 
 seemed to be a mysterious messenger, a si- 
 lent yet eloquent interpreter between them. 
 
 " He likes you too ! " Roland cried out 
 in childish delight. 
 
 These were the only words spoken by the 
 boy. Suddenly springing up, he threw him- 
 self upon Eri^s breast, where he was held 
 in a firm embrace ; the dog barked as if he 
 must express himself. 
 
 " We will be true to each other," Erjc 
 exclaimed, unclasping his arms; "I had a 
 brother of your age, and you are to be my 
 younger brother." 
 
 Roland, without speaking, held Eri^s 
 right hand between both of his. 
 
 " Now let us at once begin our life, fresh 
 and bright." 
 
 " Yes," replied Roland, " we'll make 
 Devil fetch something out of the water ; he 
 does it splendidly." 
 
 " No, my dear brother, we will go to 
 work. Let us see what you have learned." 
 
 Eric had noticed particularly, that Ro- 
 
70 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 land, who was deficient in every other 
 branch of knowledge, had a pretty good ac- 
 quaintance with geography. He tested 
 him in this, and Roland was highly pleased 
 to be able to give him accurate answers. 
 They gradually passed to the consideration 
 of other studies, and then Roland appeared 
 confused, and for Latin he had a hatred 
 amounting to a personal hostility. 
 
 " We will quietly study what is neces- 
 sary, 11 Eric said consolingly, " and then we 
 will ride, drive, shoot, fish, and row. 11 
 
 This prospect cheered the boy very much, 
 and when the clock struck in the tower, he 
 suddenly observed, — 
 
 " In one hour Herr von Pranken will be 
 with Manna. I can learn to ride, fence, 
 and shoot, as well as Herr von Pranken, 
 don^ you think I can ? 11 
 
 " Certainly you can. 11 
 
 "I sent a letter, too, to Manna by Herr 
 von Pranken. 11 
 
 " What language did you write it in? " 
 
 " English, of course. Ah! it just occurs 
 O me, — all speak so highly of your mother, 
 let your mother come too ; she might live 
 out there in our small, vine-covered house. 11 
 
 The boy could say no more, for Eric 
 lifted him up, pressed him to his breast, and 
 kissed him. The boy had uttered what at 
 first sight had flashed through his own soul, 
 and now it was evident that he bestowed 
 gladly, loved to confer benefits, and to con- 
 trive pleasure for others ; his hard-hearted- 
 ness towards the dwarf disappeared as a 
 mere superficial blemish. 
 
 A servant came and announced that din- 
 ner was served. Holding each other by 
 the hand, Roland and Eric went to the 
 dining-room. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A RIVAL. 
 
 The dinner was as ceremonious as it had 
 been the day before. Frau Ceres, who ap- 
 peared again at table, betrayed by no look 
 or word that she had conversed so confiden- 
 tially with Eric ; she addressed, frequently, 
 some brief remark to him ; but again all 
 were occupied in urging her to eat some- 
 thing. Eric wondered at the patience with 
 which Sonnenkamp did this again and 
 again. 
 
 After dinner, while they were taking 
 coÜee, Sonnenkamp observed to Eric in a 
 careless way, that a new applicant had pre- 
 sented himself, who brought the highest 
 recommendation from Roland^ last tutor, 
 the candidate Knopf. He gave Eric to un- 
 derstand that they did not receive every 
 
 one at once to dinner, and ordered Joseph 
 to introduce the stranger. 
 
 A slim, sunburnt man entered. He was 
 introduced to the company. Eric was in- 
 troduced by the title of Captain, Doctor 
 being suffered temporarily to rest in peace. 
 The stranger, whose name was Professor 
 Crutius, had been a fellow-student with the 
 candidate Knopf, had seen a good deal of 
 the world, and, finally, for several years, 
 had been professor in the military school 
 at West Point, near New York. 
 
 He gave this information with great ease, 
 but in rather a harsh tone of voice. 
 
 Sonnenkamp seemed to have reserved 
 this entertainment for the dessert, to allow 
 the two applicants to engage in a tilt with 
 each other, while quietly smoking his cigar. 
 He was very shrewd in finding the points 
 where they could attack each other, but he 
 was not not a little surprised that Eric im- 
 mediately laid down his arms ; expressing 
 his thanks to the stranger, he said that he 
 envied his rich experience in life, and his 
 wide survey of the world, while he himself 
 had, to his regret, been confined to the lim- 
 ited circle of the Principality and to the 
 world of books. 
 
 The stranger had made the discovery 
 very soon that Fräulein Perini was the 
 hair-spring in the watchwork of this house- 
 hold, and he found that they had some re- 
 miniscences in common. Crutius had ac- 
 companied an American family to Italy, 
 and had gone from thence to the New 
 World. 
 
 In a manner showing candor and experi- 
 ence, he described the characteristics of an 
 American boy of the upper class,, and how 
 such a boy must be managed. Without di- 
 rectly pointing it out, this description was 
 evidently intended for Roland, who sat gaz- 
 ing at the stranger. 
 
 Eric, standing with Sonnenkamp by the 
 balcony-railing, which he grasped tightly in 
 his hands, said that he himself was not suf- 
 ficiently prepared, and that the stranger 
 would be, probably, the most fitting per- 
 son. 
 
 Sonnenkamp made no reply, puffing out 
 quickly cloud after cloud of smoke into the 
 air. 
 
 "Magnanimity, 11 he thought to himself. 
 "Magnanimity, — nothing but smoke and 
 vapor. 11 
 
 The stranger was very zealously engaged 
 in conversation with Frau Ceres and Fräu- 
 lein Perini. Roland went to his father, and 
 said, in a voice as determined as it was 
 low, — 
 
 " Send him away ; I don^ want him." 
 "Why not?" 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 71 
 
 " Because I have Herr Eric, and be- 
 cause Herr Knopf has sent him." 
 
 " Go to your own room ; you have noth- 
 ing to say about this," Eric ordered. 
 
 The boy stared at him, and went. 
 
 Eric declared to the father that Roland's 
 instinctive feeling was just ; the bitterness 
 against his former teacher he could not at 
 all judge of, but it was evident that the boy 
 wanted to be received by some entirely un- 
 prejudiced stranger. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was surprised at this kindly 
 appreciation on Eric's part, especially when 
 he went on to state how unpleasant a thing 
 it must be for the boy to be transferred in 
 this way from one hand to another. 
 
 The stranger, in the meanwhile, had 
 asked Fraulein Perini whether Sonnen- 
 kamp had any relatives, whether that had 
 always been his name, and whether he re- 
 ceived many letters. He touched upon one 
 and another point in his conversation, evi- 
 dently to reconnoitre the state of feeling 
 entertained by the family concerning Amer- 
 ica ; and when Sonnenkamp, with great en- 
 ergy, asserted that he should like a dictator 
 for America, who would put to rout the 
 rascality there, Crutius said, that there 
 were very many in the New World who 
 really cherished the conviction and desire 
 that America would establish a monarchy, 
 but didn't dare to say so. 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded to himself, and 
 whistled again inaudibly. 
 
 " Where did you put up ? " he abruptly 
 inquired of the stranger. 
 
 Crutius named an inn in the village. 
 
 "There you are very well quartered." 
 
 The stranger's countenance changed for 
 an instant. He had evidently expected 
 that his luggage would be sent for, and 
 that he would be received as a guest in the 
 house. 
 
 Sonnenkamp thanked him very courte- 
 ously for the call, and requested him to 
 give his address in full, so that he might 
 be written to if there should be occasion. 
 The stranger's hand trembled as he took 
 out his well-worn pocket-book, and gave his 
 card. He took leave with formal politeness. 
 
 Sonnenkamp requested Eric to escort his 
 fellow-teacher a part of the way, and handed 
 him several gold pieces, which he was to give 
 to the needy -looking man in a suitable man- 
 ner. 
 
 " Is this friendly confidence, or is it ex- 
 pected as a service?" Eric asked himself, 
 as he went after the stranger. 
 
 He overtook him near the park-wall, and 
 when Eric represented himself to be also a 
 teacher, the countenance of the professor 
 changed, and he exclaimed : — 
 
 • 4 Ah ! a teacher then, and perhaps my 
 competitor ? " 
 
 Eric answered in the affirmative. 
 
 Crutius looked sour at this ; he had been 
 gratified at the friendly encouragement of 
 the captain, whom he took to be an inmate 
 of the family, and he was grateful to him 
 for the praise he had given him ; but now 
 he turned out to be a teacher too ! He 
 gnashed his teeth a little over this mistake. 
 
 Eric tendered him the present of gold 
 with great delicacy, putting himself on an 
 equality with the stranger, making known 
 his own poverty, and declaring how impos- 
 sible it often was not to accept from those 
 who ha'd means. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" the stranger laughed out. 
 " He knows me; he wishes to put me un- 
 der obligation and release himself! " 
 
 Eric said that he did not understand such 
 expressions. 
 
 "Indeed!" the stranger said, laughing. 
 " So innocence with a captain's rank allows 
 itself also to be bought ? The whole world 
 is nothing but an old rag-shop. What 
 matter ! The den where the tiger devours 
 Iiis prey is very fine and very tasty ! paint 
 and tapestry can cover up a good deal ! 
 I ask your pardon, I have taken wine this 
 morning, and I am not used to it. Well, 
 hand it over ! My most humble compli- 
 ments to Villa Eden ! Ha ! ha ! a very nice 
 name ! " 
 
 Without adding a word more, the stranger, 
 grasping tightly the gold, touched his hat, 
 and walked off at a rapid pace. 
 
 Eric returned to Sonnenkamp in a med- 
 itative mood. Sonnenkamp invited him to 
 be seated, in a very friendly manner, ask- 
 ing, — 
 
 "Did he take the money?" 
 Eric nodded. 
 
 "And of course, with hardly a thank 
 
 you ? " 
 
 Eric said that the man had acknowledged, 
 of his own accord, that he had been drink- 
 ing wine that morning, and was not used 
 to it. 
 
 Pointing to a great packet of letters, 
 Sonnenkamp said that they were all applica- 
 tions for the advertised situation. He expa- 
 tiated very merrily upon the great number 
 of persons who depend upon some wind-fall 
 or other ; if one should only open a honey- 
 pot, suddenly bees, wasps, and golden-flies 
 appear, nothing of which had been seen be- 
 fore. Then he continued : — 
 
 "I can give you a contribution to your 
 knowledge of men." 
 
 " Anything about Herr Crutius ? " 
 
 " No ; of your very much be-pitied dwarf. 
 It is really refreshing to find such a charm- 
 
72 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ing piece of rascality. I have known for a 
 long time how smart he was in stealing the 
 black wood-vetch from the hill above ; but 
 now the bite received in training the dog is 
 nothing but a lie. ' I have already informed 
 Roland of it, and I am glad that he can be- 
 come acquainted so early with the vileness 
 and deceitfulness of men. 1 ' 
 
 " You will not keep the dwarf any longer 
 in your employment, I suppose ? " 
 
 44 Certainly I shall. I am delighted that the 
 droll little man has so much rascality. It is 
 a perfect satisfaction to play with the vil- 
 lainy and roguery of people, and I should 
 like to have half a dozen such on hand, so 
 as to teach Roland how to deal with chaps 
 of that stamp." 
 
 " I would rather not be able to give him 
 that instruction, 1 ' said Eric. 
 
 "It is not for you to do that; you are 
 here for something else." 
 
 Eric left Sonnenkanip's room, greatly de- 
 pressed. 
 
 A servant informed him that Roland was 
 waiting for him at the river-bank ; he went 
 there, and Roland invited him to take a sail 
 with him on the Rhine. He unfastened the 
 pretty boat from the shore, and rowed ex- 
 pertly out into the stream ; it was now a 
 dark green, and the islands above, with 
 their dense foliage, seemed to be growing 
 out of a soil of liquid emerald. 
 
 A fresh breeze rippled the surface ; Ro- 
 land was happy that he could unfurl the sail, 
 and showed himself skilful in his mastery 
 over the elements. Every movement was 
 so graceful that Eric took great delight in 
 looking at him. 
 
 Eric was a novice on the water, and he 
 was glad to give Roland the satisfaction of 
 instructing him, and of showing him how the 
 boat is made to turn, and to go in any direc- 
 tion. There was a joyous tone in Roland's 
 voice that Eric had never remarked before. 
 
 And while they were sailing along with a 
 full breeze, the splashing waves striking 
 against the boat, Roland spoke of the can- 
 didate Knopf, who first made him really at 
 
 home upon the water. Knopf could row, 
 
 sail, steer, and make the boat describe a 
 circle in the water, better than the best 
 boatman. Yes, better than the boatman's 
 wife even, a large, powerful woman, who 
 now called out to him as she steered a large 
 boat made fast to a tow-boat, while her 
 husband, a not less powerful form, leaned 
 against the mast. 
 
 Roland, steering towards the tow-boat, 
 made fast to the boat which the woman was 
 managing. She chatted with him without 
 looking round, for she must keep the exact 
 course. When they had gone far enough, 
 Roland unfastened the boat, and sailed 
 back with the current. 
 
 He gave a humorous account of the 
 helmswoman's rule over her husband, but 
 Eric led the conversation to the candidate 
 Knopf. Roland was not inclined to say 
 anything more about him, nor to speak of 
 his previous tutors, who were evidently re- 
 garded by him with as much indifference as 
 is a yesterday's waiter at a hotel, or a dis- 
 charged servant. Who will ask about peo- 
 ple whom they have dismissed? It was 
 only apparent, from some words dropped by 
 Roland, that this candidate must have had 
 a warm affection for his pupil. 
 
 Mention was made, also, of the dwarf, 
 and Roland took it very coolly that tie had 
 turned out a rascal, for he regarded all poor 
 people as rascals. 
 
 Eric had gained in this sail a new and 
 deeper knowledge of his pupil ; pity was 
 now added to the love he felt for the boy, 
 who had so early acquired a contempt for 
 the world, and who appeared to have no 
 person and no thing to which he clung in- 
 separably, and the thought of which gave 
 him new inspiration. Only with his sister 
 did he seem to have any real bond of af- 
 fection, for as they were approaching the 
 villa, he said : — 
 
 "Just as I am now walking with you, 
 Manna is walking with Herr von Pranken. 
 I think that you and Manna, when she 
 comes, will also be good friends." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 73 
 
 BOOK III. — CHAPTER I. 
 THE SUBTERRANEAN CALL. 
 
 A fragrant strawberry glistens on the 
 ground, beautiful to the eye, and luscious 
 to the taste. If there were some method 
 of seeing, or even of hearing, what was go- 
 ing on at the root of the plant, we might 
 perhaps be able to discern how the am- 
 monia, homely, and of very pungent odor, 
 turned up conceitedly its nose, as much as 
 to say, What indeed would all this be with- 
 out me ? 
 
 The potash, on the other hand, brightly 
 glistening and sweet-smelling, is under no 
 necessity of saying anything, for its very 
 appearance says already, All the scientific 
 men of the upper worid speak on my be- 
 half. 
 
 And the hard, silicious earth, in its com- 
 fortable repose, might be understood to 
 say, I am an aboriginal inhabitant, and 
 what do these transient fellows want? 
 To-day here, and to-morrow gone ; I have 
 already lived through a great deal, — every- 
 thing goes by fashion. 
 
 The maggot-worm grubs at the root, 
 blinking with its cunning eyes, and thinks, 
 The rest are happy in rendering service, 
 but I — I fatten myself. The earth-worm 
 rolls itself along in a proud feeling of tri- 
 umph that it can go through the streets and 
 water-courses, whereon everything is mov- 
 ing hither and thither. A mole, that has 
 nestled in the neighborhood, lies in wait 
 for the moment when the maggot-worm is 
 taking a little nap, after its surfeit, and 
 gobbles it up. 
 
 Such are the manifold operations of life 
 and movement down there at the roots, 
 and such also are those in the servants 1 
 room of Villa Eden above. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkarap has a wise rule, al- 
 though many consider it hard-hearted, that 
 all his servants must be unmarried. They 
 receive good wages, are in want of noth- 
 ing, but make no pretension to family lile. 
 A beggar never comes into the well- 
 kept garden, for he would disturb its com- 
 fortable serenity. He receives alms, at the 
 entrance, from the keeper of the lodge, and 
 the old cook oftentimes complains that the 
 remnants of food, which might nourish 
 many a hungry one, go so utterly to waste. 
 
 It is noon. They take their meals here, 
 long before the table of their master above is 
 set. Two grooms and a third coachman, 
 who keep watch in the stables, eat by them- 
 selves in silence, for they must relieve the 
 others. 
 
 The superintendent here below is the 
 head-cook, dressed in light clothes, and 
 
 called for shortness, "the chief;" of a 
 burly and portly figure, with a beardless 
 face, and a large hawk-nose, he plays here 
 the marquis. His German is a sort of jar- 
 gon, but he rules over the subordinate 
 cook and kitchen-maids, with absolute 
 sway. 
 
 The watchmen have dined. A long 
 table is laid for more than a dozen persons, 
 and they come in one after another. 
 
 The first who makes his appearance, or, 
 rather, the one to whom the first entrance 
 is conceded, is the head-coachman, Bert- 
 ram, with a powerful, gigantic form. He 
 has a great red beard, parted in two wav- 
 ing masses coming to a peak, with an em- 
 broidered waistcoat covering his hips, and 
 over it a striped blue and white jacket, 
 with just a slight badge of distinction from 
 that of the other coachmen. 
 
 With a greeting to the whole corps of 
 servants, Bertram seats himself at the head 
 of the table with Joseph on his right, and 
 the head-gardener on his left. Next to 
 this one, a little man, with seamed face 
 and rapidly glancing eyes, takes a seat ; 
 this is Lutz, the courier. Then the rest 
 seat themselves according to their rank, 
 the stable-boys and the men working in the 
 garden being placed at the lower end of 
 the table. 
 
 The first female cook, a special favorite 
 of Fräulein Perini, insisted strenuously 
 upon grace being said before dinner. 
 Bertram, the travelled coachman, a de- 
 cided free-thinker, always busied himself 
 during the blessing with his great embroid- 
 ered waistcoat, which he drew proudly 
 down over his hips. Joseph folded his 
 hands, but did not move his lips ; the rest 
 prayed silently. 
 
 No sooner was the soup removed, and a 
 little wine sipped, — for the servants had 
 their wine every day, — than Bertram 
 sorted the talk, and upon a very definite 
 topic. 
 
 ' ' I was just waiting to see whether Lieu- 
 tenant Dournay would recognise me ; I be- 
 longed to his battery." 
 
 "Indeed!" Joseph delightedly chimed 
 in. "He was right popular, I'm cer- 
 tain?" 
 
 Bertram did not consider it incumbent 
 upon him to give a direct reply. He only 
 said that he could never have believed that 
 Herr Dournay would ever become a ser- 
 vant. 
 
 " Servant?" 
 
 "Yes, a servant like us; and because 
 he knows something of books, a tutor." 
 
 Joseph smiled in a melancholy way, and 
 took great pains to bring the table over to 
 
74 
 
 THE COUNTRY -nOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 a correct view. First he praised the cele- 
 brated father of Eric, who had received at 
 least twenty decorations ; and his mother, 
 who belonged to the nobility ; and he was 
 very happy to say that Captain Dournay 
 understood all about the sciences, and, 
 to throw at their heads the very hardest 
 names which he could get hold of, — An- 
 thropology, Osteology, Archaeology, and 
 Petrifactology — all these the captain was 
 master of; he was a complete university in 
 himself. But he did not succeed in con- 
 vincing the company that Eric was any- 
 thing else than a servant. 
 
 The head-gardener said, in a high-Prus- 
 sian dialect : — 
 
 * 'Anyhow, he is a handsome man, and 
 sits his horse well ; but he don't know a 
 thing about gardening." 
 
 Lootz, the courier, praised Eric for 
 speaking good French and English, but of 
 course, when it came to Russian, and 
 Turkish, and Polish, the learned gentle- 
 man didn't understand them ; for Lutz him- 
 self, as a journeyman tailor, having made 
 the tour of all countries, understood all 
 languages. He had attended formerly 
 Fräulein von Pranken, the present Count- 
 ess Wolfsgarten, and two English ladies, 
 on their travels ; now he acted as courier 
 for Herr Sonnenkamp on his journeys, and 
 was idle the rest of the time, unless one 
 calls work the carrying of the letter-bag 
 to and from the railroad station, and the 
 playing of the guitar, which the little man 
 practised a good deal, with the accompani- 
 ment of his own whistling.' He had also a 
 secret service. 
 
 There appeared to be a tacit agreement 
 at the table, that they should make no re- 
 ply to anything that Lutz said ; he only 
 received a smile from the second female 
 oook, with whom" he had a tender but not 
 acknowledged relation. 
 
 A man with Sarmatian features and a 
 Polish accent claimed for Herr von 
 Pranken the credit of having brought the 
 man into the house. Bertram gave Joseph 
 a slight nudge, and proceeded to praise Herr 
 von Pranken in the most eulogistic terms, 
 while Joseph winked slyly, as if he would 
 say, Just so ; this shows again that the Pole 
 is in the secret service of Herr von 
 Pranken. 
 
 Now they speculated whether Herr von 
 Pranken would take up his abode in the 
 house after his marriage with Manna, for 
 this event was regarded as a settled thing. 
 
 A gardener, who stammered a little, re- 
 marked that it was said at the village inn, 
 that Herr Sonnenkamp had" been a tailor. 
 All laughed, and the stuttering gardener, 
 
 who was the special butt of the circle, was 
 more and more spurred on to talk, and 
 bantered till he became blue in the face. 
 Bertram, taking both waves of his long 
 beard in his hands, exclaimed : — 
 
 " If any one should tell me that, Pd 
 show him how his teeth taste." 
 
 "Just let people talk," said soothingly 
 the head-gardener, with a smile in advance 
 at his own wisdom, as he added, " As soon 
 as a man gets on in the world he must 
 make up his mind to be slandered." 
 
 One of the hostlers gave an account of 
 a scuffle which had taken place between 
 them and the servants of the so-called 
 Wine-count, who reproached them with be- 
 ing the servants of a man whom nobody 
 knew anything about, — who he was, or 
 where he came from ; and that one of them 
 had gone so far as to say that Frau Son- 
 nenkamp was a purchased slave. 
 
 The secret, and, in fact, not very edify- 
 ing history of several families was now re- 
 lated, until the stout female cook cried out 
 at last : — 
 
 ' ' Do stop that talk ! My mother used 
 to say, that 
 
 * Whether houses be great or small, 
 There lies a stone before them all.'" 
 
 The second gardener, a lean, thin man, 
 with a peaked face, called the squirrel, who 
 often had prayers with the pious people of 
 the neighborhood, began a very evangelical 
 discourse about evil speaking. He had, 
 originally, been a gardener, then a policeman 
 in a northern capital, where Sonnenkamp be- 
 came acquainted with him, and placed him 
 back again in his first occupation, employ- 
 ing him frequently in commissions that 
 called for special circumspection. 
 
 An ancient kitchen-maid, who sat apart, 
 holding in her lap the plate from which she 
 was eating, cried suddenly : — 
 
 " You may say what you please, the gen- 
 tleman who has just come marries the 
 daughter of the family. Just bear that in 
 mind. Mark my words. He hasn't come 
 for the young gentleman, but for the young 
 lady. There was once on a time a prince 
 and a princess in the castle, and the prince 
 put on a servant's dress — yes, laugh away, 
 but it is just so." 
 
 Joseph and Bertram exchanged glances 
 full of meaning. 
 
 Now there was a general joking. Every 
 one wished to have his fortune told by old 
 Kate. The courier made fun of supersti- 
 tious people, but assumed a very forced 
 smile when Bertram called out : — 
 
 "Yes, indeed, the tailors are all enlight- 
 ened, they don't believe in hell." 
 
TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 75 
 
 There was no end to the laughing now. 
 Suddenly a voice sounded from the ceil- 
 ing:— 
 
 "Bertram is to put the horses to the 
 glass-carriage, and Joseph to come up." 
 
 The company at the table broke up ; the 
 hostlers went to the stables, where they 
 smoked their pipes, the gardeners to the 
 park and the green-houses. Joseph told 
 two servants to set the dinner-table, and 
 there was stillness under ground. Only 
 the kettles bubbled and hissed, and the 
 chief surveyed with lofty mien the progress 
 of his work. 
 
 An hour later, Lootz received the letters 
 which he was to carry to the station, and, 
 in a very casual and innocent way, related 
 that the new tutor had as adherents in the 
 house, Bertram, who was formerly stationed 
 in his battery, and Joseph, who considered 
 himself committed to him as coming from 
 the University. It had never been said in 
 so many words that Lutz was to be a spy 
 over the servants, but it was understood, as 
 a matter of course, between him and his 
 master. 
 
 CHAPTER Et. 
 A SUNDAY FILLED OUT. 
 
 Eric had wished to write a letter to his 
 mother out of fairy-land, when he rode as 
 if under a spell of enchantment through the 
 wood, where all was music, fragrance, and 
 brightness. Yes, then ! It was only a few 
 days ago, and yet it seems as if years had 
 elapsed. How much in these few days had 
 Eric thought, seen, experienced ! The let- 
 ter is an entirely different one. 
 
 On Sunday there was a change in the 
 household arrangements, no common break- 
 fast being served. When Eric met Son- 
 nenkamp in the garden, the latter asked 
 him if he would go with them to church. 
 Eric answered no, at once, adding in ex- 
 planation, that by going he should be guilty 
 of an act of hypocrisy ; as a mark of re- 
 spect for a confession not his own, he might 
 perhaps be willing to go, but a different 
 view would be taken of it. 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at him in surprise. 
 But this straight-forwardness seemed to 
 have an effect upon him, for he said, — 
 
 " Good ; one is at no loss to find out 
 your opinion." 
 
 The tone was ambiguous, but Eric inter- 
 preted it favorably. 
 
 After all had gone to church, Eric sat 
 alone, writing to his mother. He began by 
 saying that he seemed to himself like Ulys- 
 ses thrown upon a strange island ; he had, 
 indeed, no fellow-voyagers to take care of, 
 
 but he had for companions many noble sen- 
 timents, and he must watch sharp lest they 
 be turned into 
 
 Just as he was writing the word, he stopped ; 
 that was not the proper tone. He destroyed 
 the sheet, and began again. He narrated, 
 simply and briefly, the interview with Pran- 
 ken, Clodwig, and Bella, saying that as the 
 Homeric heroes were under the special pro- 
 tection of the gods, so to-day a different 
 and better one was vouchsafed, and he was 
 accompanied by the spirit and noble char- 
 acter of his parents. In speaking of Ro- 
 land, he said that wealth had a peculiar 
 power to excite the fancy, and a mighty en- , 
 ergy in carrying out its purposes, for' Ro- 
 land had already removed her into the small, 
 vine-covered house. 
 
 The bells were ringing in the village, and 
 Eric wrote with flying speed about his con- 
 ception of the noble vocation of guiding 
 in the right path a human being, upon 
 whom was conferred the great and influential 
 power of wealth. 
 
 And now, mingled with the ringing of the 
 bells, there came suddenly the recollection 
 of that narrative in the Gospel of the rich 
 young man coining to Jesus. He did not 
 remember the precise question and answer, 
 and he looked for a Bible in Roland's libra- 
 ry, but there was no Bible there ; yet it 
 seemed as if he could go no farther, until 
 he had become exactly acquainted with that 
 incident. 
 
 He went down into the garden ; there he 
 came across the gardener, the so-called 
 squirrel, who was very happy to be able to 
 give an affirmative answer to the question 
 whether he had a Bible. With words full 
 of unction he brought one to Eric, who 
 took it with him to his room. 
 
 He wrote no more, he read for a long 
 time ; then he sat there motionless, his 
 head resting upon his left hand, which cov- 
 ered his eyes, until Roland returned from 
 church, and laid down his prayer-book. 
 As Eric grasped now the hand which had 
 deposited the book, the inquiry darted 
 through his soul, Wilt thou be able to give 
 the youth a like firm trust as a compensa- 
 tion, if thou shouldest 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted, for Roland 
 said, — 
 
 "You have procured a Bible, then? 1 ' 
 With childish pleasure he informed him that, 
 by means of the gardener, it had been re- 
 ported all over the house. Eric felt obliged 
 to declare to the boy that he held this book 
 in high esteem, and thought there was no 
 other to be compared with it, but that he 
 had none of the customary ecclesiastical rev- 
 erence for it. 
 
76 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Do you know this ? " Eric asked, point- 
 ing to the passage about the rich young 
 man. 
 
 Roland read it,. and when Eric asked 
 him what he thought of it, Roland only 
 stared, for he had evidently not perceived 
 the difficulty of the problem there enun- 
 ciated. Eric avoided enlightening him now 
 in regard to the meaning of the parable ; 
 he would wait. A seed-grain lies at first 
 motionless in the earth, until it is stirred in- 
 to activity by its own vital forces. Eric 
 knew that at this moment such a seed-grain 
 had fallen into the child's soul. He would 
 . bide quietly the time when it should germi- 
 nate and spring up. 
 
 He complied with Roland's desire that he 
 would go with him to meet the major, who 
 came every Sunday to dinner. They walked 
 for a while in the road under the nut-trees, 
 and then up the hill through the vineyards. 
 They saw, near a large open space where 
 stakes only were standing, the Major, with 
 whom we have already become acquainted 
 at Wolfsgarten ; he was to-day in full uni- 
 form, with all his badges. 
 
 Whilst the established nobility of the 
 region were very reserved in their visits to 
 the Sonnenkamp mansion, the Major was 
 the banner of distinction to this household, 
 Frau Ceres being especially delighted that 
 a man with so many badges should devote 
 himself to her in so friendly a way . Evil 
 tongues, indeed, reported that the Major, 
 in consideration of this attention to the 
 ladies, and this Sunday display of his 
 badges, received no trifling addition to his 
 not very large pension, but this was pure 
 scandal, for the Major, or rather Fräulein 
 Milch, strenously refused to accept presents 
 from any one in the region, nor would they 
 allow themselves to be in any manner depen- 
 dent. 
 
 The Major was very happy to see them 
 both. 
 
 "Have you got him so soon ? 11 said he to 
 Eric. "Be sure and hold him by a tight 
 rein." 
 
 And, pointing to the vineyard, he said : 
 "Next season we shall have there — so 
 Herr Sonnenkamp says — the first wine. 
 Have you ever drunk virgin wine ? " 
 
 Eric answered in the negative, and the 
 Major delighted in being able to explain to 
 him that the first product of a vineyard was 
 so denominated. 
 
 The Major's gait was nothing but a per- 
 
 Eetual plunge forward and a recovery of 
 imself again ; every two ste'ps he stopped 
 and looked round, always with a Imile. He 
 smiled upon every one he met. Why were 
 people to be made unhappy because he has 
 
 lost his toes ? Why should they see a trou- 
 bled countenance ? He informed Eric that 
 he had frozen his toes in the Russian cam- 
 paign, and had been obliged to have them 
 amputated ; and he smiled very cheerfully, 
 as he said : — 
 
 " Yes, truly our German proverb is right. 
 Every one knows best himself where the 
 shoe pinches." 
 
 He nodded his agreement with Eric, who 
 made an application of the proverb to the 
 various relations of life. 
 
 Then he asked Roland whether his mother 
 had yet risen ; for Frau Ceres made the no 
 small sacrifice of getting up at nine o'clock, 
 and, what will be considered a not much in- 
 ferior one, of completing her toilet in a sin- 
 gle hour, and going with the family to 
 church. She always made up, therefore, 
 for the lost sleep by going to bed again be- 
 fore dinner, and putting on afterwards, for 
 the first time, her real Sunday apparel. 
 
 When they reached the level road, the 
 architect met them, on his way also to din- 
 ner; he joined Eric, while Roland went 
 with the Major. The men were all obliged 
 to look at Roland's dogs, before they assem- 
 bled in the balcony-saloon. They found 
 the doctor and the priest already with Herr 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Eric had scarcely been introduced, when 
 Frau Ceres appeared in splendid full dress. 
 
 The Major offered his arm, the servants 
 drew back the folding-doors, and they went 
 through several apartments into the dining- 
 hall. 
 
 The Major had his seat at the left of Frau 
 Ceres, and the priest at her right ; next to 
 him was Fräulein Perini, and then the phy- 
 sician, Sonnenkamp, the architect, Roland 
 and Eric took their respective seats. 
 
 The priest said grace to-day aloud. The 
 conversation was, at first, wholly incompre- 
 hensible to Eric, for it was of persons and 
 circumstances that he knew nothing about. 
 The great wine establishment, the son of 
 whose proprietor had bought, with Pranken, 
 the beautiful horses, was often mentioned. 
 The head of the firm had realized enormous 
 profits, at a sale held at one of his wine- 
 vaults up the stream. It was reported that 
 he intended to give up business entirely, 
 and to reside at the capital, for the shrewd 
 old gentleman was very desirous of gaining 
 the consideration and good will of the 
 court. 
 
 "I give him credit," cried the doctor, 
 " of being infatuated with the notion of get- 
 ting ennobled." 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp, who just that mo- 
 ment had put into his mouth some fish 
 cut up very fine, was seized with such a sud- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 77 
 
 den and violent fit of coughing, that all the 
 table were anxious at seeing him turn so red 
 in the face ; but he soon re-assured them, 
 saying that he had only incautiously swal- 
 lowed a fish-bone. 
 
 The Major thought it unfitting that the 
 great wine-merchant should allow himself 
 to stand as a government-candidate for the 
 chamber of deputies, and that, too, against 
 such a man as Weidmann. Eric gave at- 
 tention when this name was now again men- 
 tioned ; it was always as if an indescribable 
 train of honors waited upon it. But the doc- 
 tor continued, by saying that the Wine-count 
 was only desirous of satisfying his ambition, 
 and his purpose to make himself acceptable 
 to the government, and that he would suc- 
 ceed even if he knew that he would be 
 beaten, for he appeared in the journals as a 
 supporter of the Government. 
 
 " Now, Herr priest," he directly asked, 
 " which candidate will the clergy vote 
 for ? " 
 
 The priest, a tall, slender form with white 
 hair, and remarkably bright eyes, which 
 looked keen and quiet from beneath the 
 massive eye-brows, united both dignity and 
 adroitness in his deportment. He would 
 have been very glad to remain silent, but 
 he now said — moving his left hand, with 
 the thumb and forefinger joined — that 
 there was really no opposition to be made 
 to Weidmann^ good qualities as a citizen. 
 
 The doctor was obliged to put up with 
 this indirect reply. But the Major extolled 
 very decidedly the noble character of Weid- 
 mann, who was sure to triumph. 
 
 The Major always spoke with great diffi- 
 culty, and turned purple even to the roots 
 of his white hair, whenever he was obliged 
 to address not his immediate neighbor only, 
 but the whole table as well. 
 
 " You speak as a brother Freemason, 11 
 said the physician, giving him a nod. 
 
 The Major looked grimly at him, shaking 
 his head, as if to say, One should not jest 
 about such things ; but he said nothing. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was very free in declaring, 
 that although he paid taxes in this country, 
 he should not vote ; that he was cosmopoli- 
 tan, and considered himself and his family 
 to be only guests in Germany. 
 
 Eric's glance and that of the doctor met, 
 and both looked towards Roland. What 
 can be expected of a boy, to whom it is said, 
 The State in which you live is of no account 
 to you at all ? 
 
 The physician, having begun to make a 
 butt of the Major, kept it up incessantly. 
 Known and liked as a jovial person, the 
 physician was, early in the day, in the hila- 
 rious mood of one who has just risen from 
 
 a well-spread table, and his very lively tone 
 contrasted strangely with the heavy delivery 
 of the Major, who very willingly allowed 
 himself to be made the object of jesting. 
 It seemed to him to be a man's duty to min- 
 ister, even passively, to his fellow-men ; and 
 his features always said, My children, make 
 yourselves merry, even if it is about me. 
 
 The priest, in the meanwhile, took the 
 part of the persecuted Major, but it was 
 hard to tell whether it was not for the sake 
 of keeping up the raillery, for the Major 
 smiled in a yet more puzzled way at his ad- 
 vocate, than at his assailant. The priest 
 always began in a sort of narrative way, and 
 as he went on, shot his well-aimed shafts on 
 all sides, preserving at the same time his 
 polished and obliging manners, and never 
 losing sight, for a moment, of the respect 
 due to his spiritual calling ; and he had, in 
 particular, certain tranquillizing motions 
 with his handsome, delicate hands. The 
 eyes of Fräulein Perini seemed to expand, 
 more and more, and to feast in gazing, as 
 she looked at the ecclesiastic, and listened 
 to him with her eyes. Only she could not 
 repress her discomfort, when the priest, af- 
 ter the fashion of the snuff-taking clergy, 
 rolled up his blue linen pocket-handker- 
 chief into a ball, and, in the full flow of 
 discourse, tossed it from one hand to the 
 other. She breathed more freely when he 
 put the horrible blue handkerchief into his 
 pocket. 
 
 Fräulein Perini maintained a tranquil im- 
 perturbability towards the rough and ex- 
 citable temperament of the physician, while 
 he regarded her as a sort of colleague ; and 
 it was really the case, that she had some 
 medical knowledge. He had a particular 
 respect for her, inasmuch as she had never 
 consulted him in regard to any ailment. 
 She lived very temperately, indulged spar- 
 ingly in the luxurious entertainments and 
 the rich daily repast, seemed to have no 
 wants, and devoted herself to the service, 
 or more properly, to the accommodation, of 
 others. Doctor Richard took the liberty, 
 as a physician of extensive practice, to use 
 but little ceremony, and was as much the 
 popular as the pampered despot of the 
 whole district, and especially of the Son- 
 nenkamp household. He was talkative at 
 the table, eating but little, and drinking so # 
 much the more to make up for it. He 
 praised the wines, knew them all, how long 
 they had been kept, and when they were 
 mellow. He inquired about an old brand, 
 and Sonnenkamp ordered it to be brought ; 
 the physician found it harsh, rough, and 
 immature. Herr Sonnenkamp would often 
 look up dubiously to the physician, before 
 
78 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 partaking of some dish, but he would say in 
 anticipation : — 
 
 " Eat, eat, it won't hurt you." 
 
 " The really best thing in the world 
 would be to drink," Sonnenkamp said, 
 jestingly. 
 
 " It's a shame that you never knew the 
 ' precious Borsch, 1 cried the doctor, "who 
 once uttered that illustrious saying, * The 
 stupidest thing in the world is, that one 
 can't also drink what he eats.'" Turning 
 to Eric, he continued : — 
 
 " Your friend Pranken doesn't speak well 
 of our Rhine-land, but this ill-humor is 
 only an epidemic catarrh while getting ac- 
 climated, which every one must catch. I 
 hope you will not be so long in getting 
 over it. Look at this bottle of wine, — all 
 is corked up here that poetry, the scenic 
 art, and creative art can do to enchant and 
 enliven us ; the drinker feels that he is not 
 a common pack-horse, and though, theoret- 
 ically, he does not know what elements of 
 the beautiful are contained in such a bottle, 
 he has no need to know, he tastes it ; he 
 drinks in, in fact, the beautiful. " 
 
 " Provided there is no adulteration," the 
 architect suggested. 
 
 "Very true," the doctor cried in a loud 
 voice ; " we used to have very few cases of 
 delirium-tremens, now so common in our 
 district ; and delirium-tremens is not from 
 the wine, but from the alchohol in it. Do 
 you know anything about wine ? " he asked, 
 turning to Eric, and, as if actual president, 
 calling upon him for his opinion. 
 
 "Not any." 
 
 " And yet you have probably composed 
 drinking-songs, where the chorus always 
 comes in, ' W e will be merry, let us be 
 merry, we've been merry, 1 and after the first 
 bottle, the merry gentlemen can't stand on 
 their rhimed feet any longer." 
 
 A glance towards Roland brought the doc- 
 tor to his senses ; it was not well to make Eric 
 a subject of ridicule in this way. He there- 
 fore turned the conversation, and gave 
 Eric, whom he called with special friendli- 
 ness Herr Colleague, an opportunity to 
 narrate many interesting incidents of the 
 collegiate and military life. The Major 
 nodded approval ; through Eric's conversa- 
 tion he was left in • peace, and could give 
 his undisturbed attention to eating and 
 drinking. Under the napkin which he had 
 pinned to his shoulders, he opened his uni- 
 form. It is well, he thought, that Fräulein 
 Milch has furnished me with such a nice 
 white vest, and it ought to be seen. He 
 was on the best of terms with the servants, 
 and whilst they were changing the wine, it 
 only needed a wink to Joseph, a universal 
 
 favorite, and he immediately poured out 
 some choice Burgundy from the sparkling 
 crystal decanter for the Major. 
 
 The Major drank no more. The conver- 
 sation had taken a happy turn, after Eric 
 began to speak of the Geneva convention 
 for the care of those wounded in battle. 
 This was a good common point of union for 
 the priest, the physician, and the soldier, 
 and, for a time, the conversation at table 
 was harmonious and well-sustained. 
 
 The Major, in a loud tone, declared that 
 men who did not like to have their names 
 mentioned were the original movers in 
 this, as in all other humane arrangements. 
 The physician remarked to Eric, in a lower 
 tone than ordinary, that the Major attrib- 
 uted to the Freemasons all the good in the 
 world, and if he wished to keep in his 
 good graces, he must never say anything 
 against Freemasonry. 
 
 The entire table listened with great at- 
 tention to Eric, as he asserted that we 
 ought to be proud to see in our century 
 such an arrangement established on the 
 ground of pure humanity ; and the priest 
 himself nodded in assent, when Eric added 
 that the Christian religion, in its self-sac- 
 rificing devotion to the care of the sick, 
 had attained an elevated position, purer 
 and loftier than had ever before been 
 reached, in any age, and under any dispen- 
 sation. 
 
 Roland was happy to see the gleaming 
 eyes of all resting upon Eric, and collected 
 them all in one focus for him. 
 
 They arose from table, and a blessing 
 seemed to have descended upon the whole 
 repast. The priest engaged in silent 
 prayer, and the Major, coming to Eric, 
 pressed his hand rather tightly, saying in a 
 subdued tone : — 
 
 " You are one already, you must learn 
 the signs." 
 
 Eric was so excited, that he hardly heard 
 what the old man said, although he ex- 
 pressed his highest possible esteem in this 
 readiness to accept him as a Freemason. 
 
 "See," cried the doctor, impudently, 
 " see how much whiter the hair of our 
 Major has turned." 
 
 And it actually seemed so, for the face 
 of the Major was so permanently red, that 
 its color seemed incapable of being deep- 
 ened, and now from the excitement of the 
 conversation and the wine, the whiteness 
 of the hair was in reality discerned with 
 greater distinctness. 
 
 " The Major's hair has become whiter," 
 everybody now said, and the bewildered 
 smile, that was always round his mouth, 
 exploded in a loud laugh. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE WORLD OUTSIDE. 
 
 The doctor was informed, immediately 
 after dinner, that many patients were wait- 
 ing for him, for it was generally known 
 that he dined on Sunday here at the villa. 
 He hastily took a cigar from Sonnenkamp, 
 and said that Eric must accompany him, 
 as he wished to speak with him. He said 
 this in a positive manner admitting of no 
 refusal. 
 
 After they had turned the corner, the 
 physician extended his hand to Eric, say- 
 ing in a hearty tone, — 
 
 " I am the scholar of your grandfather, and 
 I also knew your father at the University.' 1 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it ; but why did 
 you not tell me that at once ? " 
 
 The doctor looked at him awhile from 
 head to foot, then he laid both hands on his 
 shoulders, and shaking his head, but in a 
 cordial tone, said, — 
 
 " I have been mistaken in you. I thought 
 that the species idealist had died out ; you 
 are doctor of world-wisdom, but not doc- 
 tor of worldly wisdom. Dear captain-doc- 
 tor, what's the need of their knowing yon- 
 der how you and I stand with each other ? 
 — So you wish to live with Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp ? " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "The man can't weep if he would, and 
 you — ? " . 
 
 "Well, and I?" 
 
 "With you the tear-sack is filled at every 
 emotion, as when you spoke there of your 
 father, and of the noble care of the sick — 
 you have a talent for hypochondria." 
 
 Eric was struck. This style of personal 
 criticism was novel to him, but before he 
 could reply, the doctor called to the wait- 
 ing group of patients standing at the en- 
 trance of the porter's lodge, — 
 
 " I am coming in a moment ! Wait here 
 for me, and I'll come back soon," he said 
 now to Eric, and went up to the group, 
 all of whom took off their hats and caps. 
 He spoke with one and another, taking out 
 ä blank book with loose leaves, and writ- 
 ing several prescriptions, with the back of 
 a broad-shouldered man for a desk, and 
 giving to others only verbal directions. 
 
 Eric stood in a fixed attitude, and he 
 realized that he was wanting in worldly 
 wisdom, but a deep feeling of happiness 
 took possession of him, that his grandfa- 
 ther and father sent him here a friend. An 
 unknown and inestimable inheritance was 
 awaiting him in all places, like a harvest 
 gathering in from all quarters ; he regarded 
 
 the family and its rich possessions with a 
 different feeling ; he was no longer poor. 
 
 The physician, coming back, said with a 
 more cheerful countenance, — 
 
 " I am now free. Count Clodwig has 
 told me about you, but he has given me a 
 wrong impression of you. Never mind! 
 Every one sees, standing in the centre of his 
 own horizon, his own rainbow. I wished 
 only to say to you, that what one — pardon 
 me — what one does for you, is hardly the 
 payment of interest, for no human being has 
 done more for others than your grandfather 
 and your father. Now allow yourself for 
 once to undergo a regular examination. I 
 saw you years ago, when you were coupled 
 with the prince." 
 
 The doctor receded a step from Eric, 
 and continued, — 
 
 "The crossing of races is a good one. 
 Father, Huguenot, — Mother, pure German, 
 real blond, delicate organization, — proper 
 mixture of nationalities. Come with me 
 into the arbor. Will you allow me a brief 
 and concise diagnosis ? " 
 
 Eric smiled ; the physician's method of 
 passing him under review and pronouncing 
 verdict upon him seemed extremely odd, 
 but yet he felt attracted. 
 
 Striking off on a twig the ashes from his 
 cigar, the doctor asked, — 
 
 "Can you have intercourse with any 
 one day by day, and not like him, or at 
 least have some regard for him ? " 
 
 " I have never tried it, but I think not ; 
 and such an intercourse assuredly hurts the 
 soul." 
 
 "I expected this answer. For my part, 
 I say with Lessing, It is better to live 
 among bad people, than to live apart from 
 everybody. May I ask still another ques- 
 tion?" 
 
 But without waiting for a reply, he con- 
 tinued,— 
 
 "Have you ever experienced ingrati- 
 tude?" 
 
 " I think that I have, as yet, done noth- 
 ing which deserves gratitude. Especially 
 may we ask, Ought we to lay claim to any 
 thanks, inasmuch as what we do in behalf 
 of others, we do, first of all, to secure our 
 own self-approval." 
 
 " Good, good. Wise already. Yet one 
 thing more. Do you believe in natural 
 depravity, and if you do, since when?" 
 
 " If by depravity you mean the conscious 
 delight in injuring others, then I am no 
 believer in it, for I am convinced that all 
 evil doing is only a stepping over the limits 
 of a justifiable self-preservation ; it is only 
 an excess caused by sophistry or passion. 
 
80 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Perhaps the belief in depravity is also 
 merely passion." 
 
 The doctor nodded several times, and 
 then said, — 
 
 " Only one question more. Are you sen- 
 sitive — vulnerable ? 11 
 
 " I might perhaps urge your friendly 
 testing as a proof that I am not." 
 
 The doctor threw away the cigar, which 
 he had not wholly smoked up, and said, — 
 
 " Excuse me, I was in an error; my final 
 question has another at the end of it. Now 
 to conclude : Are you surprised, when you 
 find simply stupid some little man or some 
 little woman in fashionable clothes, and 
 with polished address, and are you. willing 
 to take them as simply stupid, without at- 
 tributing to them principles of action, and 
 a comprehension of the principles of oth- 
 ers ? " 
 
 In spite of the evidently friendly inten- 
 tion, Eric's patience was exhausted ; he re- 
 plied to this, not without some irritation, 
 that he had been through a great many sur- 
 prising examinations here, but the present 
 was the most surprising of all. . 
 
 ** You will perhaps have some light upon 
 it, by and by, 11 the physician said in a low 
 tone, stealthily pressing Eric's hand, for he 
 saw Fräulein Perini coming along the path, 
 and he went to join her. 
 
 The company at table met again at the 
 fountain, chatted awhile, and then sepa- 
 rated. - The priest and the Major invited 
 Eric to call upon them ; the physician asked 
 Sonnenkamp if Eric and Roland might not 
 be allowed to drive with him upon his round 
 of visits. Sonnenkamp appeared struck 
 that Roland and Eric were linked together 
 in this way, but he nodded his assent. 
 Eric and the doctor seated themselves in 
 the open carriage, and Roland took his seat 
 with the coachman, who g^ve him the reins. 
 
 The day was bright and full of the fra- 
 grance of flowers, bells were ringing, and 
 larks were carolling. 
 
 They drove to a village lying at a distance 
 from the river. From a garden where the 
 cider was in bloom came the beautiful music 
 of a quartette song, and under a linden in 
 an enclosed place, boys and youths were 
 engaged in gymnastic sports. 
 
 "O this magnificent German land of 
 ours ! " Eric could not refrain from ex- 
 claiming. " This is life ! Th ! s is our life ! 
 To cheer the soul with inspiring song, and 
 the body with brisk motion, — this makes a 
 people strong and noble, and honor and 
 freedom must be theirs ! All that is great 
 belongs to us, as well as to the classic 
 world. 1 ' 
 
 The doctor, laying his hand quietly upon 
 
 Eric's knee, looked him full in the eye, and 
 then begged him, if he remained here, to 
 make himself thoroughly acquainted through 
 him with the Rhine life, and not allow him- 
 self to be misled, if he should find much 
 that was repulsive both inside and outside 
 of the house. "And if you can — I believe 
 you alone can, if you can't, I give it up — 
 confer upon the boy there, not merely joy in 
 what he has, but joy in the great life of the 
 nation and of the community, which now he 
 has not, then you will have accomplished 
 something that is worth living for. But the 
 main point is, while you are doing this, to 
 have no thought of self, and then the bless- 
 ing will not fail. This is what I understand 
 by the direction, * Seek ye first the kingdom 
 of God — that is, the life of truth and of 
 love — and all things shall be added unto 
 you.' Roland," he interrupted himself by 
 calling, " stop here." ' 
 
 The doctor got out,, and went into a 
 small but neat-looking house ; Eric and 
 Roland went to the gymnastic-grounds. 
 They were regarded at first with great shy- 
 ness ; but when Eric readily showed a fine- 
 looking youth, who went through some ex- 
 ercise clumsily, how to do it better, and 
 when, stripping off his coat, he swung with 
 agility on the horizontal bar, every one be- 
 came more familiar. Roland also attempted 
 some of the exercises, without much suc- 
 cess, and Eric said that they would practise 
 them diligently, but it was unfavorable that 
 they would be obliged to engage in them 
 by themselves, for there was much greater 
 animation and exertion of all the powers, 
 when there was a common emulation. 
 
 A messenger came to call Eric and Ro- 
 land back to the house where the doctor 
 had stopped. Just as the physician came 
 out of the house, the church-bell tolled ; all 
 the bystanders took off their hats, even the 
 doctor, and he said, — 
 
 "A human being is dead; the man has 
 lived out the term of existence ; he was 
 seventy-two years old, and yet yesterday, 
 on his death-bed, he gained comfort in the 
 recollection of a little deed of beneficence. 
 In the year of the famine, 1817, he was 
 travelling as a journeyman cooper over the 
 Lunenburg heath — he continually called it 
 the Hamburg heath — where there was no 
 road; and after several hours he came 
 across a wretched hovel, in which were sev- 
 eral children crying from hunger. The 
 cooper had some dried eels, and some bread 
 in a tin box. He gave all to feed the chil- 
 dren, and they were happy. 4 Mark,' he 
 said to me only yesterday, — 4 mark how it 
 does me good, and always rejoices me, that 
 I could at that time feed the children, and 
 
\ 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 perhaps they never have forgotten it, that 
 once a stranger appeased their hunger.' Is 
 it not beautiful that a man can gain solace 
 from a single good deed ? He has suffered 
 much, and death is a release to him. Yes, 
 my young friend, such is the world ! There 
 outside all is in bloom, people are singing, 
 exercising, sporting, and in the meanwhile, 
 a human being is dying — pooh! 1 ' he* 
 cried, recovering himself, "I have not 
 brought you with me to make you troubled, 
 Roland ; drive the whole length of the vil- 
 lage to the last house." And turning to 
 Eric, he said, — 
 
 " We are going to see cheerful poverty ; 
 you are now to look upon the bright eide. 
 The man is a poor vine-dresser ; has seven 
 children, four sons and three daughters, 
 and in their poverty they are the merriest 
 people to be found anywhere, and the mer- 
 riest of all is the old father. His real name 
 is Piper; but because he sings with his 
 children and practises them finely as often 
 as he can get a chance, he is called Seven- 
 piper. 11 
 
 They drove to the house ; the daughters 
 were sitting before the door, the sons were 
 at the gymnastic-ground. Sevenpiper im- 
 mediately made his appearance, and said 
 that his sons should be sent for. The doc- 
 tor then asked how things were going with 
 him. 
 
 " Ah, Herr doctor," he replied, in a loud 
 tone, " it is always so ; my youngest always 
 has the bes"t voice. 11 And turning to Ro- 
 land, he added, — 
 
 "Yes, dear sir, I make my children rich 
 too ; each one receives from one to two 
 hundred songs as an outfit, and if they can't 
 make their way through the world with that, 
 then they are good for nothing. 11 
 
 The sons came, and now a cheerful song 
 was struck up, so that the doctor and Ro- 
 land were put into excellent spirits, and 
 Eric, who quickly caught the tune, sang 
 with them. 
 
 The old man nodded to him, and when 
 the song was ended, said, — 
 
 " Herr, you can sing too, that's a fact." 
 
 The doctor always carried a bottle-case 
 in his carriage, and drawing upon it now, 
 every one became exceedingly merry ; and 
 Sevenpiper informed them, and more par- 
 ticularly Roland, that the best thing in the 
 world was to be in good health, and make 
 music for one's self. 
 
 The physician took leave, and at evening, 
 Roland and Eric, in a joyous mood, left the 
 house. Sevenpiper's two oldest sons went 
 with them to the bank of the river, where 
 they unfastened the boat, and rowed to the 
 villa. 
 
 3E ON THE RHINE. 81 
 
 The water was now very still and clear, 
 and reflected the red glow of the sunset- 
 sky. Eric sat by himself in silence, during 
 one of those blissful hours when one thinks 
 of nothing, and yet enjoys all. Roland 
 kept time in rowing with the sons of Seven- 
 piper; then, without stroke of the oar, 
 they let the boat float' and it glided noise- 
 lessly along in the middle of the stream. 
 
 The stars were glittering in the sky when 
 they arrived at the villa. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE GOSPEL OF THE RICH YOUNG MAN. 
 
 The architect came in the morning for 
 Roland, who was to make, under his direc- 
 tion, some drawings of the castle-ruins. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp reminded Eric that he 
 was to visit the priest, and he set out soon 
 after he had seen Fräulein Perini return 
 from mass. The priest's house had a gar- 
 den in front," and was in silent seclusion in 
 the village itself silent. If the bell had not 
 rung so loudly, and if the two white Pom- 
 eranian dogs had not barked so loudly, one 
 would have believed that there could be no 
 loud noise in such a well-arranged estab- 
 lishment as this appeared to be at the very 
 entrance-hall. The dogs were silenced, 
 and the housekeeper told Eric, who seemed 
 to be expected, to go up stairs. 
 
 Eric found the ecclesiastic in his sunny, 
 unadorned room, sitting at the table, and 
 holding in his left hand a book, while his 
 right lay upon a terrestrial globe supported 
 upon a low pedestal. 
 
 "You catch me in the wide world," said 
 the ecclesiastic, giving Eric a cordial wel- 
 come, and biding him take a seat upon the 
 sofa, over which hung a colored print, of 
 St. Borromeo, which was well-meaning 
 enough, but not very beautiful. 
 
 A home-like peacefulness was in this 
 room ; everything seemed to express an ab- 
 sence of all pretension and all assumption, 
 and a simple desire to pass the hours and 
 the days in quiet meditation. Two canary 
 birds, here, however, in two cages, appeared 
 to entertain a lively desire, as did the dogs 
 below, to give vent to their feelings. The 
 ecclesiastic called to them to be quiet, and 
 they became dumb, as if by magic, and only 
 looked inquisitively at Eric. 
 
 The priest informed him that he was just 
 following out on the globe the journey of a 
 missionary ; and he caused the globe to re- 
 volve, while saying this, with his delicate 
 right hand. 
 
 " Perhaps you are not friendly to the mis- 
 sionary spirit ? " he asked immediately. 
 
 " I consider it," Eric replied, " to be the 
 
82 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 first step in the world's civilization, and it 
 is a grand thing that the missionaries have 
 everywhere spread a knowledge of written 
 language, through translations of a book 
 revered as holy, and in that way have re- 
 duced to an organic form, as it were, the 
 inorganic languages of all peoples. 
 
 The priest closed the book that lay open 
 before him, folded his hands in a kind of 
 patronising way, that seemed natural to him 
 as the official form of consecration, and 
 then placing the tips of the fingers of one 
 hand upon those of the other, he said that 
 he had heard of Eric many favourable 
 things, and that, from his own experience, 
 he was prepossessed in favor of those who 
 changed their calling out of some internal 
 ground of conviction. To be sure, fickle- 
 ness and restlessness, never at ease in any 
 regular employment, often led to this, but 
 where this Avas not the case, one could pred- 
 icate a deep fundamental trait of sincerity. 
 
 Eric thanked him, and added that the 
 dignity of any vocation lay not in the ex- 
 ternal consideration awarded to it, but in 
 the preservation of the purely human inher- 
 ent in every calling. 
 
 " Very just, 11 replied the ecclesiastic, ex- 
 tending one hand, as if with a benignant 
 blessing. "The ecclesiastical vocation is 
 therefore the highest, because it does not 
 strive after gain, nor enjoyment, nor fame, 
 but after that which you — I know not for 
 what reason — call the universally human, 
 when it ought simply to be called the 
 divine. 11 
 
 A certain degree of humility, and a re- 
 luctance to make any opposition, came over 
 Eric, as he listened to the ecclesiastic set- 
 ting forth in such mildly discordant tones 
 the precise point of difference. It seemed, 
 after every word, as if the sacred peaceful- 
 ness of the place gained fresh potency ; 
 nothing of the world's noise intruded there, 
 and all its busting activity was far away. 
 
 The park, and the country-house in the 
 distance over the river, could be seen from 
 the window ; the ecclesiastic took special 
 notice of Eri^s lively interest in the beauti- 
 ful, quiet view, and remarked, — 
 
 " Yes, Herr Sonnenkamp has arranged 
 all that for himself, but the beauty is also 
 our gain. I really never go out of my 
 house, except for some parochial work." 
 
 " And* do you never feel yourself solitary 
 here in the country ? " 
 
 "Oh no! I have myself, and my Lord, 
 and God has me. And the world? I had 
 in the great city, even, nothing different — 
 my parish, my church, my house — what, 
 besides these, is there, is not there for me." 
 
 A reminiscence of his early youthful 
 
 years was awakened in Eric's soul, and he 
 told the priest that the thought had often 
 presented itself to him, in the midst of his 
 jolly garrison life, that he had a fitness for 
 the ecclesiastical vocation, but that he could 
 not devote himself to it without a belief in 
 revelation. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, one cannot make himself 
 believe, but one can make himself humble, 
 and every one can and ought to do that, 
 and then the grace of believing is vouch- 
 safed. 1 ' 
 
 The ecclesiastic announced this as if it 
 were s a. mathematical axiom, and Eric re- 
 plied in a modest tone, — 
 
 "Every man acquires a ground-work of 
 thought and feeling, just as he does his mo- 
 ther tongue, by hearing it spoken; and 
 might it not be said also, that his soul ac- 
 quires a language which has no outward 
 sound, but which becomes embodied as a 
 religious disposition and habitual tendency, 
 and which, if it is genuine, cannot be inter- 
 fered with, for, in this primitive stratum, 
 root and soil are one and the same. 11 
 
 " You have studied the Mystics ? " asked 
 the ecclesiastic. 
 
 "Only partially. I should like to say 
 further, that all fair controversialists are 
 obliged to agree upon something as unas- 
 sailable, or undemonstrable." 
 
 That holy stillness again possessed the 
 place, where two human beings were 
 breathing, who desired each in his own way 
 to serve the highest. 
 
 " You are at the age, 11 the priest resumed, 
 " when young gentlemen think of marriage, 
 and as is the prevailing fashion, marriage with 
 a maiden who has money. — a great deal of 
 money. You appear so true-hearted, that I 
 must ask you directly, although I would 
 much rather not, if it is true that you are a 
 suitor of Fräulein Sonnenkamp ? 11 
 
 " I? 11 Eric asked with vehement astonish- 
 ment. "I? 11 
 
 " Yes, you. 11 
 
 "I thank you, 11 Eric said in a clear voice, 
 recovering from his amazement, " I thank 
 you, that you question me so directly. You 
 know I am not of your church. 1 ' 
 
 "And Fraulein Sonnenkamp is of our 
 church, and it would be hard — " 
 
 " I was not thinking of that," Eric said, 
 interrupting him. "Wonderful, through 
 what tests I must pass ! First a supercili- 
 ous cavalier, then a nobleman, then a mili- 
 tary officer, then a doctor, and now in the 
 priestly sieve. 11 
 
 " I do not understand you."- 
 
 "Ah, truly," began Eric, "and I tell 
 you, I confess to your noble, mild counte- 
 nance, and so I acknowledge to you, seeing 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 83 
 
 you before me, that I admire the undisturbed 
 unity of your beinoj from which comes the 
 Catholic law of celibacy as a dogma, and I 
 allow myself to claim that we have reached 
 the same ideal stand-point. Yes, honored 
 sir, I say to myself, he who wishes to live 
 for a great idea, whether he is artist, schol- 
 ar, priest, he can need no family, he must 
 renounce its joys, apart by himself with- 
 out any hinderance, that he may fulfil his 
 mission in the perpetual service of thought. 11 
 
 " Divisus est! divisus est!" repeated 
 the ecclesiastic. The holy apostle says that 
 he who has a wife is divided, and he will 
 be yet more divided, whilst the lot of his 
 children becomes his own. The ecclesiastic 
 has no changes of lot." 
 
 A smile passed over the countenance of 
 the priest, as he continued : — 
 
 " Only imagine a priest married to a 
 quarrelsome wife — there are also peaceable 
 women, gentle and self-sacrificing, and it is 
 certain that there are quarrelsome ones too 
 — and now the priest is to mount the pulpit 
 in order to proclaim the word of peace and 
 love, when an hour before in dispute and 
 scolding — " 
 
 The ecclesiastic suddenly ceased, placed 
 the forefinger of his left hand on his lips, 
 and bethought himself, that he was wander- 
 ing from the real point. Did not Fräulein 
 Perini inform him that Eric had visited the 
 convent before he came to this place ? 
 He looked at Eric, who had led him from 
 the direct inquiry, wondering whether he 
 had done it from prudence, or whether it 
 was really from excitement. He hoped, in- 
 deed, to attain his end in some different 
 way ; and, apparently in a very natural 
 manner, but yet with a lurking circumspec- 
 tion, he now asked whether Eric really felt 
 confident, from his position, of being able 
 to train a boy like Roland. 
 
 When Eric answered in the affirmative, 
 the ecclesiastic further asked : — 
 
 " And what do you mean to give him first, 
 and in preference to everything else ? 11 
 
 "To sum it up in few words," replied Eric, 
 11 I wish to give Roland joy in the world. 
 If he has this, he will furnish joy to the 
 world ; that is to say, he will desire to benefit 
 it ; if I teach him to despise the world, to un- 
 dervalue life, he will come to misuse the 
 world and the powers entrusted to him in 
 it. 11 
 
 " I regret," said the priest in a gentle 
 tone, "that you are not a believer; you 
 are on the way to salvation, but you turn 
 aside into a by-path. Do you know what 
 riches are ? I will tell you. Riches are a 
 great temptation, yes, perhaps the greatest 
 of our time ; riches are a force in nature, 
 
 perhaps the most lawless, most untamable, 
 and the hardest to be governed. Riches 
 are a brutal power, for which there is no 
 ruler, except the Almighty Lord ; riches are 
 below the brute, for no brute has any more 
 force than it embodies in itself. Man alone 
 can be rich, can have what he is not himself, 
 I and what his children cannot consume. 
 Here is the misery of it ! Whoever gains 
 so much of the world hurts his own soul. I 
 have tried to bring this family and this boy 
 to this, that they should at least make the 
 acknowledgment, before every meal, that 
 what they enjoy in such luxurious abundance 
 is only a gift. Do you believe that this boy, 
 conscious of his riches, and this whole fam- 
 ily, can receive a moral culture except 
 through religion? A prayer before one sits 
 down to eat is a meditation, a recollection 
 of the fact that thou hast some one to thank 
 for what thou dost enjoy. This takes out 
 the vainglorious pride, and gives humility 
 instead, and makes one give, even as he him- 
 self has been given to. Only where the 
 fear of God is, yes, fear, is there also the 
 blissful feeling of His Almighty protection. 
 On the table of this rich man there is 
 placed, every day, a display of sweet-smell- 
 ing, bright-colored flowers, — what does that 
 matter ? On the poorest table of the needi- 
 est cottager is placed a bouquet more beauti- 
 ful and more fragrant, from the higher realm, 
 through the utterances of prayer; and the 
 soul is filled, and this first makes the filling 
 of the body conduce to its health. But this 
 is only one thing. Above there, on the Up- 
 per Rhine, they call personal property 
 movables, and so it is ! The riches of the 
 present world are nothing but movables, 
 moving possessions, and they will move 
 away. Believe me," cried the ecclesiastic, 
 laying his hand upon Eric's, "believe me, 
 the public funds are the misfortune of the 
 present age." 
 
 ' ' The public funds ? I do not under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Yes, it is indeed not so easy to under- 
 stand. Of whom can one borrow millions ? 
 of no one but the State. If there were no 
 public funds, there would be no one to lend 
 such great sums; that's the way it is. 
 Formerly, a man could not acquire so many 
 millions, because he could not lay out so 
 many millions ; but now there are the pub- 
 lic funds, and everybody lives on interest- 
 money, and interest is very properly forbid- 
 den by the canons. See, in old times the 
 rich man had a great deal of real estate, 
 many fields and forests, and he was first of 
 all dependent upon God's blessed sun, and 
 when everything in good time had ripened, 
 and lay there in the sight of all, then he 
 
84 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 gave a tenth part to the church. But now 
 the riches are tucked away in fire-proof, 
 burglar-proof safes, not dependent on sun, 
 not on wind and weather, are not visible to 
 the world, and have no tenth of the profit 
 to give, — at the most a trifling discount on 
 the coupons to the banker ; the harvest of 
 the bond-holder is the cutting off of coupons ; 
 these are the sheaves of his harvest-home. 
 If the Lord should come to-day, he would 
 find no temple from which to drive out the 
 money-changers and traders, they have 
 erected for themselves their own temples. 
 Yes, the stronghold of Zion, to-day, to 
 which princes, as well as rich men, make 
 their pilgrimage and commit themselves to 
 its protection, — it is the Bank of England ! 
 Have you ever once thought of this, what 
 is to become of humanity, what of States, if 
 this increase of state-debts continues to go 
 on in this way? of course not. The whole 
 earth will be one tremendous mortgage, 
 and mortgaged to whom ? to him who lends 
 on long credit, but who will, some time or 
 other, demand payment. A universal con- 
 flagration will come, against which no fire- 
 proof vaults will avail, and a deluge, which 
 will wipe out the millions and millions upon 
 millions of State debts. I am not a man 
 who delights in seeing mischief done, but 
 this I would say, — I should like to live to 
 see the Bank of England bankrupt. Only 
 imagine it ! At night the news comes, It is 
 all gone. Then will thousands of small 
 men -and small women see, for the first 
 time, how small they are, when they see 
 themselves at once stripped of all their trap- 
 pings, and set down upon the bare earth." 
 
 Eric smiled. Every man placed in soli- 
 tude, without an environment of equalizing 
 conditions, eritertains readily peculiar no- 
 tions that dart through his mind ; and he 
 said that the earth would be burdened with 
 greater debts than it could pay, if it could 
 only find those who would advance the i 
 money. But the real possession of human- j 
 ity was of more value than the whole earth 
 could pay for, as its greatest possession was 
 its ideal being, its power of working ; and 
 while, formerly, all property was in the soil, 
 it was just the problem of the modern age to 
 make available ideal and personal property. 
 He wished further to add, that even among 
 the Romans in the time of the Republic it- 
 self, the wealth of individuals was thus 
 enormously excessive ; but the ecclesiastic, 
 in his great excitement, seemed scarcely lis- 
 tening to him, went to his book-case, took 
 down a great Bible, and opening to a pas- 
 sage, handed the book to Eric. 
 
 "There, just read; that is the only 
 
 way that Roland can be educated. Read 
 aloud." 
 
 Eric complied, and read : — 
 
 " And when he was gone forth into the 
 way, there came one running, and kneeled 
 to him and asked him, Good Master, what 
 shall I do that I may inherit eternal life ? 
 And Jesus said unto him, Why callest thou 
 me good? there is none good but one, 
 that is God. Thou knowest the command- 
 ments, — Do not commit adultery, Do not 
 kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false wit- 
 ness, Defraud not, Honor thy father and 
 mother. And he answered and said unto 
 him, Master, all these things have I ob- 
 served from my youth. Then Jesus be- 
 holding him loved him, and said unto him. 
 One thing thou laekest ; go thy way, sell 
 whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, 
 and thou shalt have treasure in heaven ; 
 and come, take up the cross, and follow me. 
 And he was sad at that saying, and went 
 away grieved ; for he had great possessions. 
 And Jesus looked round about, and saith 
 unto his disciples, How hardly shall they 
 that have riches enter into the kingdom of 
 God ! And the disciples were astonished 
 at his words. But Jesus answereth again, 
 and saith unto them, Children, how hard is 
 it for them that trust in riches to enter into 
 the kingdom of God ! It is easier for a 
 camel to go through the eye of a needle, 
 than for a rich man to enter the kingdom 
 of God ! " 
 
 M And now stand up and tell me," said 
 the priest, in a trembling voice, "tell me 
 honestly, is not that the one and only 
 method ? " 
 
 "Honestly, no: I love and revere him 
 of whom this is told, perhaps more than 
 many a church-believer, and it is partic- 
 ularly affecting to me, and at this moment 
 wonderfully touching is that passage, where 
 it is said here, — Then Jesus beholding him 
 loved him. I see the handsome rich young 
 man in the presence of the sublime Master ; 
 the young man is glowing and filled with a 
 genuine ardor; then the Master dearly 
 loves him as he looks into his countenance. 
 However — " 
 
 "That is incidental, that is incidental. 
 Speak to the main subject," the priest in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 "According to my view of the subject," 
 Eric replied, "I must own that I consider 
 this teaching to have been given at a time 
 when all actual might, the power of the 
 State, riches, and all the good tilings of 
 life, were contemned, and when they were 
 obliged to reject everything which had no 
 reference to their purely ideal view. That 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 85 
 
 could alone maintain the uprightness of no- 
 ble souls in a time of oppression under for- 
 eign rule ; and this teaching could have 
 been given at a time only, and by a soul, 
 which sees all that is worth living for van- 
 ishing away, which builds up a new crea- 
 tion, and in which pure thought has entire 
 sway. But if each one gives away, and 
 gives away continually, who is there in that 
 case to be the recipient ? And why is it 
 that this doctrine, that no one is to possess 
 anvthing, has not become a command of the 
 Church?" 
 
 "I am glad," answered the ecclesiastic, 
 "that you have touched the real point. 
 Our Church has commands which are not 
 universally binding, but are only so for him 
 who wishes to be perfect, as, for instance, 
 the law of chastity and of poverty. Only he 
 who wishes to be perfect comes under it." 
 
 "I ask, 11 interposed Eric, "is the teach- 
 ing of revelation, which is amply suffi- 
 cient for the purely spiritual, sufficient also 
 for the worldly ? In the course of the 
 development of humanity do not new so- 
 cial conditions establish themselves in the 
 world, as out of nature new forces, steam, 
 electricity — " 
 
 "Man," replied the priest, "is always 
 the same from eternity to eternity, the cit- 
 izen only changes. But I see now, you 
 are letting yourself be guided into the 
 right path. I do not desire — the rich man 
 himself did not desire it — that the boy 
 shall be perfect, and therefore the com- 
 mand to sell his possessions is not applica- 
 ble to him. I only say to you, you will 
 not be able to educate this boy unless you 
 give him positive religion. The brute does 
 all he has power to do ; with it there is no 
 word * ought ; 1 but man does not do all that 
 he has power to do. Simply to do that for 
 which one has the strength, or, yet more 
 properly, the inclination, and to do every- 
 thing purely from inclination, that is not 
 the human ; the human begins there where 
 one tramples his inclination under foot, and 
 does what God's law commands. Were 
 every one to act according to his inclina- 
 tion, then should we be sure, at no time, 
 what would become of humanity. The law 
 of God holds it together, and holds it erect. 
 Here is the significance of the law of God, 
 here begins the fall, which the gentlemen 
 of natural science havi, never got over. 
 The animal has urgent impulses ; man can 
 voluntarily awaken impulse, excite it, goad 
 it, multiply it ; where is there a limit here, 
 except in God's law ? I am not speaking 
 of any Church. You have, so much I 
 know, busied yourself chiefly with history ? " 
 
 " Not so particularly. 1 ' 
 
 "Well, you know this much: no people, 
 no State, can be free, at least we have no 
 historical instance to the contrary, no peo- 
 ple, no State, can be free without a positive 
 Church; there must be something immov- 
 ably fixed, and at this very day the Amer- 
 icans are free, only because they subject 
 themselves to religion. 1 ' 
 
 "Or, rather, enfranchise it," Eric inter- 
 posed, without being heard. 
 
 The priest continued : — 
 
 " I think that you desire to make a free 
 man of this youth. We also love free men, 
 we want free men, but there can be no free 
 men without a positive religion, and, in 
 truth, without one requiring a strict, legal 
 obedience. The highest result of education 
 is equanimity — note it well — equanimity. 
 Can your world-wisdom produce a harmony 
 of all the tendencies and dispositions of the 
 soul, a quietude of the spirit, a state of 
 self-renunciation, because our whole life is 
 one continual act of self-sacrifice ? If you 
 can produce the same result as religion, 
 then, justified by the result, you agree with 
 us. For my own part, I doubt whether you 
 can ; and we wait for the proof, which you 
 have yet to give, while we have furnished 
 it now for a thousand years, and still daily 
 furnish it." 
 
 " Religion," replied Eric, " is a concom- 
 itant of civilization ; but it is not the whole 
 of civilization, and this is the distinction 
 between us and the ecclesiastics. But we 
 are not to blame for the opposition between 
 science and religion." 
 
 "Science," interposed the priest, "has 
 nothing to do with the eternal life. Al- 
 though one has electric telegraphs and sew- 
 ing machines, that has no relation to the 
 eternal life. This eternal life is given only 
 by religion, and its essence remains the 
 same, no matter how many thousand, and 
 thousand upon thousand, inventions he may 
 devise in his finite existence." 
 
 Eric inquired now in a diffident tone, — 
 
 " But how can the Church itself possess 
 riches ? " 
 
 " The Church does not possess, it only' 
 administers," the priest sharply answered. 
 
 "I think that we are getting too far 
 away from the point," Eric said, coming 
 back to the subject. " As we cannot ex- 
 pect that Herr Sonnenkamp and his son 
 Roland will give away all their property, 
 the question returns, how shall we get the 
 right hold ? " 
 
 "Precisely so," cried the ecclesiastic, 
 suddenly standing up, and walking with 
 long strides up and down the room. " Pre- 
 cisely so ; now are we on the very point. 
 Hear me attentively. Observe well, there 
 
86 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 is something new started in the world, a 
 still more homeless condition yet in the 
 higher moral order, and that is the moneyed 
 aristocracy. You look at me in amaze- 
 ment." 
 
 "Not amazed, but expecting what will 
 come next. 1 ' 
 
 " Very right. This moneyed aristocracy 
 stands between the nobility and the people, 
 and I ask what it is to do ? Must not a 
 rich young man of the middle-class, like 
 Roland, thrown into the whirlpool of life, 
 be inevitably ingulfed ? " 
 
 " Why he," asked Eric, " any more than 
 the noble youth in the civil or in the mili- 
 tary service ? Do you suppose that religion 
 eaves them from destruction ? " 
 
 M No, but something positive of a dif- 
 ferent kind ; the historic traditions of the 
 nobility save them. The man of the no- 
 bility has the good fortune to complete the 
 preliminary period of youthful training, 
 with the least amount of detriment. He 
 afterwards retires to his estates, becomes a 
 worthy husband, and respectably maintains 
 his position ; and, even in the city, in the 
 midst of the mad whirl, his position in re- 
 gard to the court, and to the higher class in 
 the community, keeps him within prescribed 
 limits. But what does the rich young man 
 of the middle-class have ? He has no hon- 
 orable rank, no social obligation, at least 
 none of any stringency." 
 
 " Then it would be, perhaps, the greatest 
 piece of good fortune to Roland, if his father 
 could be ennobled ? " 
 
 " I cannot say," replied the priest. He 
 was vexed that he had allowed himself to 
 be drawn so near to the subject of a very 
 confidential conversation with Sonnenkamp 
 a short time previous to this. "I cannot 
 say," he repeated, adding besides, " If one 
 could be ennobled with seventeen descents, 
 it might be well; but a new noble — let us 
 say no more of this. I desired to say, that 
 the nobleman has honor, traditionary, in- 
 herited obligation ; the nobleman has es- 
 tablished and has to maintain the maxim, 
 * noblesse oblige,' 4 nobility requires. 1 What 
 great maxim have riches established ? The 
 most brutal of all maxims, one utterly bes- 
 tial. And do you know what it is ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you refer to." 
 
 " The maxim which this pursuit of gain 
 sets up as its highest is, * Help thyself.' 
 The beast does that, every one helps himself. 
 Riches thus stand between nobility and 
 people ; they occupy that morally homeless 
 position, without a recognized obligation, 
 between nobility and people. I understand 
 by people, not only those who labor with 
 the hands, but also the men of science, of I 
 
 art, and even of the church. The people 
 have work ; this moneyed class does not wish 
 for honor, and only wants labor so far as it 
 can have others labor for it, and appropri- 
 ate to itself the product of their labor. 
 What does it want? gold. What does it 
 want to do with the gold ? procure enjoy- 
 ment. Who guarantees this? the State. 
 What does it do for the State? There's 
 the whole question ! Have you any an- 
 swer ? " 
 
 Eric's lips trembled, and he replied : — 
 
 "If the nobility feels itself obliged and 
 entitled to assume the leadership in the 
 army for war, then are the young men of 
 wealth to feel themselves called to beccme 
 leaders in the army of peace ; and they are 
 to make good their position to the co'nnr^ 
 nity, to their own circle, and to their fel- 
 lows, serving without compensation, and 
 actively engaged in entire subjection to au- 
 thority, as a protection of the whole State, 
 and a sacrifice in all works of beneficence." 
 
 "Stop!" cried the priest; "the last is 
 our work. You will never be able to or- 
 ganize that without religion ; you will never 
 be able to effect, that people, out of their 
 opulence, out of their luxury, or, as you 
 would denominate it, out of purely humane 
 emotions, shall visit the dying in the huts 
 of the poor, the helpless, the sick, and the 
 abandoned." 
 
 As if the ecclesiastic had invoked this 
 high duty of his office, the sacristan now 
 came, and said that an old vine-dresser 
 desired extreme unction. The priest was 
 speedily ready, and Eric departed. 
 
 When he came out into the road, and 
 breathed the fresh air, he felt its influence 
 anew. Did he not come out of the atmos- 
 phere of incense ? No, here was more ; 
 here was a mighty power, which placed it- 
 self face to face with the great riddle of 
 existence. 
 
 Eric sauntered away, lost in thought, and 
 it occurred to him again how much more 
 easy was the task of those who can impart 
 some fixed dogmatic principles which they 
 do not originate, but receive ; he, however, 
 must create all out of himself, out of his 
 own cognition. 
 
 And can what comes out of your own 
 cognition become a part of the cognition of 
 another ? 
 
 Eric stood still, and the thought that he 
 would educate himself while educating an- 
 other made his cheeks glow ; the youth 
 should acquire knowledge from himself ; 
 for what is all culture which must be im- 
 parted from one to another? nothing but 
 help and guidance to him who has a self- 
 moving power. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 87 
 
 Half way up the mountain, Eric stopped 
 at the road which led to the Major's. He 
 looked down at the villa which bore the 
 proud name of Eden, and the Bible story 
 came to his memory. In the garden are 
 two trees, the tree of life in the midst, and 
 the tree of knowledge of good and evil ; 
 Eden is lost for him who eats of the tree of 
 knowledge. Is it not always so ? 
 
 Like a revelation the thought came to 
 him, There are three things given to man 
 upon earth, — enjoyment, renunciation, and 
 knowledge. 
 
 Sonnenkamp yonder — what does he wish 
 for himself and his son? enjoyment. The 
 world is a spread table, and man has only 
 to learn to find the right means and the 
 right measure of enjoyment. The earth is 
 a place of pleasure, and brings forth its 
 fruits that we may delight ourselves there- 
 with. Have we no other calling than to 
 drive, to eat, to drink, and to sleep, and 
 then to eat, drink, sleep, and drive again; 
 and is the sun to shine just for this ? 
 
 What does the priest want V renunciation. 
 
 This world has nothing to offer, its enjoy- 
 ments are only an illusive show, which 
 tempt you hither and thither, therefore turn 
 away from them. 
 
 And what do you desire? And what 
 ought those to desire whom you wish to 
 make like yourself? knowledge. For life 
 is not divided into enjoyment and renunci- 
 ation, and knowledge rather includes both 
 in itself, — is the synthesis of both. It is the 
 mother of duty and of all beautiful deeds. 
 
 In the old times, the combatants received 
 out of an immeasurable height a protecting 
 shield from the hands of the gods ; Eric re- 
 ceived no shield, and yet he felt that he 
 was concealed from and protected against 
 all foes, and he was so happy in himself 
 I that he felt no desire for any human being, 
 no desire for anything beside ; he was up- 
 borne by the wings of knowledge. 
 
 He went yet farther on in the way. 
 Peaceful, and enjoying an internal satisfac- 
 tion, he came to the Major's in the next 
 village. He knew that here he should have 
 to stand no examination. 
 
88 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE GOOD COMRADE. 
 
 TnE Major lived in a beautifully situated 
 house in the vineyard of a rich vintner 
 from the fortress, or rather, to use the 
 proper expression, of a brother of the 
 order, for the central point of the Major's 
 life rested firmly in Freemasonry, and he 
 cherished it within his life and thought, as 
 his holy of holies ; and if men talked of the 
 riddles of life, his face always said, — I see 
 no mystery, all is clear to me ; only come 
 to us, we have an answer to everything. 
 
 The small house which the Major in- 
 habited was attached to the large mansion ; 
 one side looked toward the highroad, and 
 the other commanded a view of the river 
 and the mountains beyond. The Major 
 confined himself strictly to his little house, 
 and his own special little garden with its 
 arbor. He watched over the larger dwell- 
 ing and its garden, like a castelan, but he 
 never lived there, and often did not enter 
 them for the many months during which 
 they stood empty. 
 
 Eric found the Major in his little garden, 
 smoking a long pipe and reading the news- 
 paper, with a cup of cold coffee before him. 
 An exceedingly neat-looking old lady, with 
 a large white cap, was sitting opposite, en- 
 gaged in darning stockings ; she rose as 
 soon as Eric entered the garden, and hardly 
 waited to be presented. The Major 
 touched his cap in military fashion, and 
 took the long pipe from his mouth. 
 
 "Fräulein Milch, this is my comrade, 
 Herr Doctor Dournay, lately Captain." 
 
 Fräulein Milch courtesied, took up her 
 basket of stockings, and went into the 
 house. 
 
 " She is good and sensible, always con- 
 tented and cheerful ; you will become better 
 acquainted, 1 ' said the Major, as she with- 
 drew ; 4 4 and s he understands men, — no one 
 better, — she looks them through and through. 
 Sit down, comrade, you have come just at 
 my pleasantest hour. You see, this is the 
 way I live : I have nothing particular to 
 do, but I get up early, — it prolongs life, — 
 and every day I gain a victory over a lazy, 
 effeminate fellow, who has to take a cold 
 bath, and then go to walk ; he often doesn't 
 want to, but he has to do it. And then, 
 you see, I come home, and sit here in the 
 morning : — and here is a white cloth spread 
 on the table, and before me stand a pot of 
 coffee, good cream, a roll — butter I don't 
 eat. I pour out my coffee, dip in the roll 
 which is so good and crisp — I can still bite 
 well, Fräulein Milch keeps my teeth in 
 order — then at the second cup, I take my 
 
 pipe and puff out the smoke over the world, 
 and over the world's history, which the 
 newspaper brings me every day. I still 
 have good eyes, I can read without spec- 
 tacles, and can hit a mark ; and I can hear 
 well, and my back is still good ; I hold my- 
 self as straight as a recruit — and look you, 
 comrade, I am the richest man in the 
 world. And then at noon I have my soup — 
 nobody makes soup like her — my bit of 
 good roast meat, my pint of wine, my cof- 
 fee — with four beans she makes better 
 coffee than any one else can with a pound — 
 and yet it has happened to me a thousand 
 times to have to sing this song to the fellow 
 sitting here : You are the most ungrateful 
 fellow in the world, to be cross as you often 
 are, and wish for this and that which you 
 have not. Only look round you ; see how 
 nice and neat everything is, — good bread, a 
 good arm-chair, a good pipe and so much 
 good rest, — you are the happiest man in the 
 world to have all this. Yes, my dear com- 
 rade, you may be deucedly learned — I 
 bög pardon — I mean, you may be very 
 learned — look you — I never studied, I 
 never learned anything, I was a drummer — 
 I'll tell you about it sometime — yes, com- 
 rade — what was I saying? ah, that's it, 
 you know a thousand times more than I do, 
 but one thing you can learn of me. Make 
 the best of life ; now's the time, be happy 
 now, enjoy yourself now, this hour won't 
 come back again. Don't always be think- 
 ing about to-morrow. Just draw a long 
 breath, comrade — there, what sort of air is 
 that ? is there better anywhere ? — and then 
 we have our nice, clean clothes on! — Ah, 
 thank the Builder of all the worlds ! — Yes, 
 comrade, if I had had any one, when I was 
 your age, to tell me what I'm telling you — 
 Pooh, pooh! — What an old talker I am — 
 I'm glad you've come to see me ! — Well, 
 how do you get on ? Are you really going 
 to drill our boy ? I think you are the right 
 man to do it, you will bring him into line — 
 you know, comrade, what that means — 
 only a soldier can do that. Only a soldier 
 can school men. Nothing but strict disci- 
 pline ! — I'll warrant, he'll come outright — 
 he'll do well — Fräulein 'Milch has always 
 said, * He'll come out right, if he only falls 
 into the right hands.' The school- masters 
 are all of no use ; Herr Knopf was very 
 worthy and good-hearted, but he didn't 
 hold the reins tight. Thank the Builder of 
 all the worlds, now it's all right! — Thank 
 you for coming to see me. If I can help 
 you, remember that we are comrades. It's • 
 very fortunate that you have been a soldier. 
 I have always wished — Fräulein Milch can 
 testify that I've said a hundred times, none 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 89 
 
 but a soldier will do ! — Now let us make a 
 soldier of Roland, a true soldier, he has 
 courage, he only wants the training ! " 
 
 "I should like," answered Eric, "if I 
 really have the position — " 
 
 "Really have the position? There's no 
 doubt about it, I tell you — Pooh, pooh; 
 I'll wager something on that. But, I ask 
 your pardon, I won't talk any more — what 
 were you going to say, comrade ? " 
 
 " I think we ought not to train him for 
 any special calling ; Roland must be a cul- 
 tivated, wise, and good man, whatever his 
 profession may prove to be — " 
 
 "Just so, just so — excellently said — 
 that's right- — the fellow has given me much 
 anxiety ! How foolish people are, to han- 
 ker after millions. When they get them, all 
 they can do is to eat their fill and sleep 
 eight hours, that's all any one can do. 
 The chief point is — " here the Major low- 
 ered his voice, and raised his hand — "the 
 chief point is, he must return to nature ; 
 that is all the world needs — to return to 
 nature." 
 
 Eric luckily abstained from asking the 
 Major what he precisely meant by this 
 mysterious proposition, for the Major 
 would, unfortunately, not have been able to 
 tell him ; but he was fond of the phrase, 
 and always us,ed it, leaving every one to 
 find out the meaning for himself. 
 
 "To return to nature, everything is in- 
 cluded in that," he repeated. 
 
 After a while he began : — 
 
 "Yes, what was I going to ask? — Tell 
 me, did not you have a great deal to bear 
 as a soldier, because you were a commoner 
 and not a noble ?" 
 
 Eric answered in the negative, and the 
 Major stammered out, — 
 
 "Indeed, indeed — you — a liberally ed- 
 ucated man, felt less of it. I asked for my 
 discharge. I'll tell you about it sometime." 
 
 Eric mentioned that he had been at the 
 priest's, and the Major said, — 
 
 " He is an excellent man, but I call for 
 no aid of the ecclesiastics. You know I 
 am a Freemason." 
 
 Eric assented, and the Major continued : 
 "Whatever is good in me has its home in 
 that; we will talk farther of it — I will be 
 your god-father. Ah, how glad Herr 
 Weidmann will be to know you." 
 
 And again, at the mention of Weid- 
 mann's name, it seemed as if a beaut/iful 
 view of the highest mountains of the land- 
 scape was brought before the mind. The 
 Major resumed : — 
 
 " But now as to the ecclesiastics. Look" 
 — he drew his chair a little nearer — " look 
 at my drum, it's all there in that — look 
 
 you, I was a drummer — yes, smile away, 
 if you like — look you, everybody says 
 such a drum makes nothing but racket, and 
 I tell them there's music in it, as beautiful 
 as — I won't disparage any one — as beau- 
 tiful as any other — look you, then, I say, 
 — mark my words — then I say, ' I will not 
 quarrel with you if you hear nothing but 
 noise, but don't quarrel with me, if I hear 
 something else.' Look you, I have thought 
 it all over, everything else will be made by 
 machinery, men are very clever, but drum 
 and trumpet-signals can not be made by 
 machinery, human hands and mouths are 
 needed for that ; I was a drummer, for ex- 
 ample, I'll tell you about it. Look you, I 
 know by the sound what sort of a heart a 
 man has, when he beats a drum; where 
 you, my brother, hear nothing but noise 
 and confusion, I hear music and deep mean- 
 ing. , Therefore, for God's sake, no strife 
 about religions ; one is worth as much or 
 as little as another, they only lead the 
 march ; but the main thing is, how every 
 man marches for himself, how he has drilled 
 himself, and what sort of a heart he has in 
 his body." 
 
 Eric was amused by the eccentricity of 
 this man, who had a deep earnestness and 
 moral freedom peculiar to himself. 
 
 Standing his pipe near him, the Major 
 asked, — 
 
 ** Is there any human being in the world 
 whom you hate, at the sight of whom the 
 heart in your body gives a twist ? " 
 
 Eric answered in the negative, and said 
 that his father had always impressed it upon 
 him, that nothing injured one's own soul 
 like hatred ; and that for his own sake, a 
 man ought not to let such a feeling take 
 root within him. 
 
 " That's the man for me ! that's the man 
 for me!" cried the Major. "Now we 
 shall get on together. Whoever has had 
 such a father is the man for me ! " 
 
 He then told Eric that there was a man 
 in the village whom he hated : he was the 
 tax-collector, who wore the St. Helena medal 
 given by the present Napoleon to the vet- 
 erans, for the heroic deeds in which they 
 had taken part in the subjugation of their 
 fatherland. " And would you believe it ! " 
 exclaimed the Major, "the man has had 
 himself painted with the St. Helena medal ; 
 the portrait hangs framed in his room of 
 state, and under it, in a separate frame, 
 the diploma signed by the French minister. 
 I don't bow to the man, nor return his bow, 
 nor sit down at the same table with him ; 
 he has a different principle of honor from 
 mine. And tell me, ought there not to 
 be some way of punishing such men? I 
 
90 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 can only do it by showing my contempt ; 
 it is painful to me, but must I not do it? 11 
 
 The old man looked much astonished 
 when Eric represented to him that the man 
 ought to be judged mildly, since vanity had 
 great powers to mislead, and besides, many 
 governments had been well pleased to have 
 their subjects win the St. Helena medal, 
 and the man, who was in the service of the 
 state, was not to be sentenced without hear- 
 ing. 
 
 " That's good ! that's good ! " cried the 
 old Major, nodding frequently, according to 
 his habit; "you are the right kind of 
 teacher ! I am seventy years old, that is, 
 I am seventy-three now, and I've known 
 many men, and let people say what they 
 will, I have never known a bad man, one 
 really bad. In passion, and stupidity, and 
 pride, men do much that's wrong ; but, good 
 God ! one ought to thank his heavenly Fa- 
 ther that he isn't such as he might very 
 often have become. Thank you ; thank 
 you : you have lifted the enemy from my 
 neck; — yes, from my neck; he has sat 
 there, heavy and — look, here comes the 
 man himself! " 
 
 The collector was walking by the garden ; 
 the Major went to the hedge with many 
 nods and gestures of his hand ; he hoped, 
 perhaps, that the man would utter the first 
 greeting ; but as this did not happen, he 
 suddenly called out, with a voice like the 
 explosion of a bomb, — 
 
 " Good-morning, Herr Collector ! " 
 
 The man returned his salutation and went 
 on. The old Major was entirely happy, 
 and passed his hand several times over his 
 heart, as if a stone or burden were removed 
 from it. Fräulein Milch looked out of the 
 window, and the Major asked her to come 
 out, as he had something very good to tell 
 her. She came, looking still neater than 
 before, having put on a white apron, in 
 which the ironed folds were still fresh. The 
 Major told her that the collector was not to 
 blame, for he had received the St. Helena 
 medal only in obedience to the govern- 
 ment. 
 
 They went together to the house, and 
 the Major showed his guest the rooms where 
 simple neatness reigned ; then he looked at 
 the barometer, and nodded, saying to him- 
 self, 44 Set fair." 
 
 Then he looked at the thermometer 
 screwed up by the window, and wiped his 
 forehead, as if he had not felt till then how 
 hot it was. 
 
 A shot was heard in the distance, and the 
 Major pointed out to Eric the direction 
 whence the sound came, saying, — 
 
 " I can hear the gun-practice from the 
 fortress. I find that the rifie-cannon have 
 just the same sound as the smooth-bore. 
 Ah, comrade, you must instruct me in the 
 new art of war. I don't know anything 
 about it, but when I hear them firing down 
 there, all the soldier in me wakes up." 
 
 He asked Fraulein Milch to bring a bot- 
 tle of wine, one of the very best. Fräu- 
 lein Milch seemed to have it all ready ; she 
 brought bottle and glasses directly, but 
 gave the Major a significant look, which he 
 understood, and answered : — 
 
 " Don't be afraid ; I know very well that 
 I can't drink in the morning. Pray, cap- 
 tain, give me your cork-screw. I take you 
 to be the right sort of man, and the right 
 sort of man always has a cork-screw in his 
 pocket." 
 
 Smiling, Eric handed him his knife, which 
 was fitted with a cork-screw. 
 
 While the Major was opening the bottle, 
 he said, — 
 
 7 And another mark of a genuine man is, 
 that he can whistle. Comrade, be so kind 
 as to whistle once for me." 
 
 Laughter prevented Eric from drawing 
 up his lips. The bottle was uncorked, and 
 they drank to good comradeship. The 
 Major said, — 
 
 " Perhaps we are in better spirits here, 
 than our friend Sonnenkanip in his grand 
 villa. But Herr captain, I say again, an 
 elephant is happy, and a fly is happy too ; 
 only the elephant has a larger proboscis 
 than the fly." 
 
 The Major laughed till he shook with de- 
 light at his comparison, and Eric found the 
 laughter contagious, and as often as they 
 looked at each other, the laughter began 
 afresh. 
 
 " You show me the meaning of the prov- 
 erb," cried Eric, " ' a gnat may be taken 
 for an elephant, 1 and in fact it is correct ; 
 not the size, not the mass, but the organism 
 is the life." 
 
 11 Just so, just so ! " exclaimed the Major. 
 "Fräulein Milch, come in again a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 Fräulein Milch, who had left the room, 
 re-entered, and the Major continued, — 
 
 " Pray, captain, say that once more about 
 the organism. That is the sort of thing for 
 Fräulein Milch, for, look you, she studies 
 much more than she chooses to let any one 
 know. If you please, comrade, the organ- 
 ism once more. I can't tell it half so well." 
 
 What was Eric to do ? He explained his 
 figure again, and the laughter broke out 
 anew. 
 
 Fräulein Milch recommended to Eric the 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 91 
 
 school-master of the village, as a remark- 
 ably fine writer, and the Major cried, laugh- 
 ing, — 
 
 " Yes, comrade, Fräulein Milch is a living 
 roll of honor for the whole region; if you 
 want information about anyone, ask her. 
 And for Heaven's sake, don't let the Count- 
 ess Wolfsgarten give you any medicine. 
 Fräulein Milch knows much more about it 
 — and no one can apply leeches so well as 
 she can." 
 
 Eric saw the good old woman's embarrass- 
 ment, and began to praise her beautiful 
 flowers, and thriving plants, which stood in 
 the window. The Major asserted that she 
 understood gardening perhaps even better 
 than Herr Sonnenkamp, and if it were only 
 known with what small means she raised her 
 plants, she would get the first prize at the 
 exhibition, instead of the gentlemen with 
 their great forcing-houses. 
 
 Turning the conversation, Fräulein Milch 
 said to Eric that it was the chief misfortune 
 of Roland, the poor rich boy, that he had 
 no real satisfaction. 
 
 "No real satisfaction?" laughed the 
 Major ; "just listen to that ! " 
 
 "Yes," asserted Fräulein Milch, the rib- 
 bons and bows on her cap nodding assent- 
 ingly as she spoke, " he has merely pleasure 
 and amusements that money can buy, but 
 they are not genuine ; and any one who 
 only drives through the world for pleasure, 
 with nothing to do in it, seeks satisfaction 
 in vain." 
 
 A gleam of pleasure from Eric's eyes 
 rested on the good Fräulein, and at that 
 moment a secret bond of union, a sense of 
 mutual understanding, was formed between 
 them. 
 
 Accompanied by both as far as the gar- 
 den-gate, Eric left the house. When the 
 door was opened, a brown and white span- 
 iel jumped upon the Major. 
 
 " Halloo ! " cried the Major, in a tone of 
 mingled scolding and caress, " where have 
 you been again, you disorderly vagabond, 
 who can tell where ? and here we've had a 
 visitor ; old as you are, you will never learn 
 good behavior and regular habits. Shame 
 on you — shame ! " 
 
 So spoke the Major to his dog Laadi, 
 well-known in all the country round ; he 
 kept a female dog, because the village dogs 
 never fought with her. 
 
 As the Major left the garden with Eric, 
 he said, — 
 
 " Look at these two posts, these closely- 
 trimmed ash-trees. Several years ago I 
 noticed that the one at the left got its leaves 
 ten or eleven days before the one at the 
 right. Now, once the frost came unexpect- 
 
 edly, and the leaves withered on the left- 
 hand one, and it drooped all summer; 
 since then it has been prudent, and lets the 
 other get its leaves first, and then itself 
 leaves out. Doesn't it seem as if trees had 
 understanding? Yes, dear comrade, every- 
 thing is better arranged in the world than 
 we understand, and, look you, though I 
 have a pension and nothing to do, I have so 
 many things to keep in sight, that the day 
 is often too short. Now, good-by, and re- 
 member that you can always feel at home 
 with us." 
 
 And as Eric shook hands, he added : — 
 
 " I thank you, for now I have another 
 man to hold dear, and that's the best thing 
 in the world to keep one young and sound." 
 
 Eric had gone several steps, when the 
 Major called to him to stop, and coming 
 up to him, said : — 
 
 " Yes, as to Herr Sonnenkamp — do not 
 be led astray, comrade. Men of the world 
 either make an idol of a successful man, or 
 they abuse him. Herr Sonnenkamp is some- 
 what rough outside, but he is good at heart ; 
 and, as to his past history, who is there who 
 can feel satisfied with all his past life ? can 
 any man ? certainly not I, and I don't know 
 anyone who can. I have not always lived 
 as I wish I had. But enough, you are wiser 
 than I." 
 
 " I understand perfectly," replied Eric. 
 " American life is an existence without a 
 seventh day of rest ; there is a continual 
 working and striving to win money, noth- 
 ing else. If men have led such a life for 
 half a score of years, they lose the power of 
 turning to anything else ; they say to them- 
 selves that if they only had enough — ah, 
 those who strive for gold never get enough 
 — they say then they would devote them- 
 selves to nobler ends. If it were only still 
 possible ! I understand you, and wonder at 
 Herr Sonnenkamp." 
 
 "Just so — just so," said the Major, "he 
 must have dragged himself through a good 
 deal of mud, as a gold-hunter, to get such a 
 great property together. Yes, yes, I am 
 easy — you are wiser than I. But now, 
 just for the first time, the main question oc- 
 curs to me — look at me, tell me honestly, 
 is it true that you have been to see Fräulein 
 Manna at the convent ? " 
 
 "I have been at the convent, and saw 
 Fräulein Manna, but without knowing her 
 or speaking to her." 
 
 " And you didn't come to establish your- 
 self in the house, in order to marry the 
 daughter ? " 
 
 Eric smiled, as he said in reply, how 
 strangely this question came to him from 
 every direction. 
 
92 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Look you, comrade, put the maiden out 
 of your thoughts, she is as good as betrothed 
 to Baron Pranken — I would rather you 
 should have her, but it can't be changed." 
 
 Eric at last got away, and went back 
 toward the villa with cheerful thoughts. 
 Good powers were working together to 
 keep Roland constantly in a circle of thought 
 and feeling, from which he might not devi- 
 ate through his whole life. 
 
 He stopped before a wide-spreading wal- 
 nut tree, and looked up smiling into its rich 
 branches. 
 
 " Sonnenkamp is right," he said to him- 
 self ; " the planting of trees and their growth 
 depend upon the surrounding heights and 
 the prevailing winds. There are nervous 
 trees, which are killed by the blasts, and 
 others which only strike root when they are 
 blown this way and that by the wind. Is 
 not the life of man such a plant ? the men 
 around it constitute its climatic zone." 
 
 Eric thought he was constantly getting a 
 better insight into the influences which were 
 helping, and those which were hindering, the 
 true growth of his pupil. 
 
 How rich is the world ! Up there at the 
 castle sits the old count by his young wife's 
 side, and creates for himself an ideal realm 
 of thought, after a full and active life ; — 
 here sits the old Major with his house- 
 keeper. How Bella would turn up her 
 nose if she were compared with that house- 
 keeper, and yet — 
 
 Suddenly Eric heard carriage wheels be- 
 hind him, and a man's and a woman's voice 
 called out to him. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A THIRD PERSON. 
 
 On the day that Eric had left Castle 
 Wolfsgarten, an habitual visitor made his 
 appearance there ; this was the son of the 
 eminent wine-merchant, the so-calledWine- 
 count. He came once a week, to play chess 
 with the count. He looked young, but he 
 was worn out in soul, not knowing what to 
 do in the world ; he derived no satisfaction 
 from the business of his father, had money 
 enough, had learned a variety of things, 
 was something of a musician, drew a little, 
 had very various talents, but no one pre- 
 dominant. All was wearisome to him ; hol- 
 low and stale seemed that enjoyment of 
 life which was to be decorously pursued. 
 Wherefore should he devote himself, to the 
 restricted limits of some regular pursuit, in 
 order to make money ? That is wholly 
 needless. He was a director in several 
 railroads, and for a period it had satisfied 
 him to oversee and to manage, to be saluted 
 
 respectfully, and listened to obsequiously, 
 by the subordinates held strictly to their 
 place; but that too became distaseful to 
 him. Travelling, too, proffered him no- 
 thing further, one had to drag along with 
 himself continually such an extra weight of 
 ennui. He turned a disgusted eye upon 
 the world which had nothing to do "for him, 
 and in which he could do nothing. He had 
 cultivated one talent, that of chess-playing, 
 and as Clodwig also took great pleasure in 
 the game, and was skilful in it, he came 
 every week to Wolfsgarten, and played 
 with Clodwig, for it conferred upon him a 
 special regard in his own eyes, and in those 
 of others. 
 
 He had also a great reputation, among 
 all those in the neighborhood who prided 
 themselves upon the same qualities as he, 
 of being a rake, and appearing to the world 
 as a gallant. He had a collection of lewd 
 pictures of every kind, and one must be 
 very intimate with him to be able to say 
 that he had seen them all, even to the most 
 carefully hidden. Of course the Wine- 
 chevalier presented a very respectable ap- 
 pearance before the world. No one had 
 ever seen him intoxicated, and, in general 
 society, he always played the part of one 
 very condescending and indifferent, who is 
 yet so noble as to remain in intercourse 
 with these inferior people, as much as to 
 say, One owes that much for old acquain- 
 tance' sake. Mothers always warned their 
 daughters of the Wine-chevalier, just as one 
 speaks to children of the wolf howling out- 
 side there in the fields, but the mothers 
 themselves did not take it in bad part when 
 he sometimes cast a languishing glance upon 
 them, and even when he frequently said 
 something to them in whispers. 
 
 The Justice's daughter, Lina, was not so 
 simple as the mother always said, for she 
 declared that the Wine-chevalier was that 
 transformed manikin in the fairy-tales, who 
 travelled to learn what shivering meant. 
 
 The Wine-chevalier of course kept him- 
 self fresh in his toilet and his anecdotes, 
 and in everything, externally and inter- 
 nally, that the prevailing fashion required, 
 from year to year, living also for several 
 months in Paris. He did not, like his 
 father, speak of his friend this and the. 
 other ambassador, minister so and so, and 
 prince so and so, but he let it be known 
 that he lived in the most inseparable inti- 
 macy with the most famous members of the 
 Jockey Club. 
 
 The Wine-chevalier always experienced, 
 besides, some degree of pleasure in devot- 
 ing himself to paying courteous compli- 
 ments to the virtuous Frau Bella, but she 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 93 
 
 looked at him to-day, as if h& were not 
 present, and as if she heard not a word of 
 what he was saying. The count also was 
 so abstracted and absent-minded, that he 
 speedily lost all the games, often gazing at 
 him with wonderment, sitting there in the 
 same chair that Eric had occupied. 
 
 A new ally to the Wine-chevalier made 
 his appearance, but this was also of no 
 avail to-day. A corpulent man dressed 
 with fastidious nicety likewise called at 
 Wolfsgarten ; he was formerly a famous 
 basso, who had married a rich widow from 
 the neighboring commercial city, and set- 
 tled down here in this beautiful region. At 
 other times he was well received by Bella, 
 for he sang very agreeably with the rem- 
 nant of his voice. When he perceived that 
 his greeting to-day was not so cordial as 
 usual, he said that he only came to make a 
 passing call, and Bella was vexed so much 
 the more ; she did not like to have Wolfs- 
 garten regarded as a place for casual visits. 
 When both had departed, Bella and Clod- 
 wig breathed again freely. 
 
 Clodwig went into the cabinet, where he 
 kept the collection of objects that had been 
 excavated from the ground ; but all here 
 seemed changed. The urns, the vases, 
 the lachrymatories, swords, necklaces, and 
 many figures in relievo looked so very deso- 
 late, and a warrior, only half of whose face 
 in burnt clay could be dug out, wore to-day 
 such a hideous visage. 
 
 All looked so forlorn, as if these thousand 
 things, brought out of the darkness under 
 ground into the light, were making their 
 moan to Clodwig : What then are we here 
 for ? There is something wanting to us, — 
 a piece to each. And if Clodwig had been 
 able to exhibit his soul with all its emotions, 
 he, the well-regulated, would have had no- 
 thing but potsherds to show. Something 
 was wanting to him since Eric rode off. 
 
 With closed lips, and restless eyes that 
 seemed to be in search of something, he 
 went all day long through house and park. 
 Bella succeeded at last, in bringing him to 
 say that the ideal of his whole life might 
 have been realized, but that he had strangely 
 wanted the requisite energy. He com- 
 plained, for the first time, of feeling the 
 hesitancy and timidity of age. He made a 
 pause, hoping that Bella would complete 
 the suggestion, but she kept silence ; and 
 in a very roundabout way, he explained 
 that people indulged in many luxuries, and 
 yet not the right ones. Finally he came 
 directly to the point, that he considered it 
 wrong to. have permitted Eric to depart, he 
 had long wished for such a man, and he 
 might venture perhaps to say, that he would 
 
 also contribute to the advancement of the 
 young scholar with the Apollo-form. 
 
 The upper lip of Bella quivered, and sh& 
 said, — 
 
 "The captain" — she was going to say, 
 the captain in Goethe's "Elective Affini- 
 ties," and stumbling over this thought, she 
 continued : — " The captain, — I mean, the 
 doctor, — would certainly consider himself 
 very fortunate. But — we ought surely to 
 speak openly. I have the happiness of a 
 firmly established good name, and we do 
 not ask what people say — " 
 
 " Speak out direct," Clodwig said en- 
 couragingly, and Bella continued after she 
 had passed a fine pocket-handkerchief over 
 her face : — 
 
 " Do you not think that this young man 
 — would often — how shall I express 
 it?" 
 
 "Put us into an awkward position?" 
 suggested Clodwig. Bella nodded, but 
 Clodwig had already thought that matter 
 over, and he combated the notion, dwelling 
 upon the consideration of how great an 
 enslavement it would be of the good, if 
 they must omit doing what was noble be- 
 cause the bad committed the basest things 
 under the cloak of deceit. 
 
 Bella now advised her husband to send a 
 messenger to Eric immediately, so that he 
 might not enter into any engagement. 
 Clodwig pressed her hand, and went into 
 his study, with an elastic step not often 
 seen in him. He began to write there, 
 but soon came to Bella and said that he 
 could not write, and the simplest thing to 
 do was to order the carriage and drive over 
 at once to Villa Eden. 
 
 Clodwig avoided, as a general thing, all 
 immediate connection with Sonnenkamp 
 and his family, so far as it was possible 
 with the intimacy of his brother-in-law 
 there, but to-day nothing was said of this, 
 and they drove off in good spirits. 
 
 Frau Bella often drew her veil down 
 over her face and raised it again ; she was 
 very uneasy, for she thought over a great 
 many things, and when she noticed the 
 quick beating of her heart, she grasped 
 hastily her husband's hand, saying, — 
 
 "Ah! you are so good, so angel-pure! 
 I could never have believed that I should 
 be continually discovering new excellencies 
 in you." 
 
 With the utterance of these words aloud, 
 she silenced in some degree the voice 
 speaking within her what she was not 
 willing to acknowledge to herself, — yes, she 
 consciously disowned it. It is an incom- 
 prehensible whim, a freak — not of pas- 
 sion, no — how could Bella confess that of 
 
94 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 herself? It was the freak of an evil spirit ! 
 This young man must possess some incom- 
 prehensible, bewildering, magic influence ! 
 Bella hated him, for he had disturbed the 
 quiet of her husband, and now was at- 
 tempting to do the same with her. He 
 should atone for that ! She straightened 
 herself back ; she was resolved to interrupt 
 the childish, enthusiastic plan of her hus- 
 band by the very means of her going with 
 him, and if Eric did not perceive her op- 
 position, she would acknowledge it in so 
 many words, and thereby induce him to de- 
 cline. 
 
 Entertaining this thought, she looked up 
 again in a cheerful mood, and Clodwig, per- 
 ceiving it, settled upon a room for Eric, 
 and laid out the new household arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 A new member of the family too was to 
 be added for Bella, as she was to invite 
 Eric's mother to visit them. It was for- 
 tunate that Bella had already known her 
 for some time before, and held her in high 
 esteem. Clodwig informed her that the 
 Dournays also were really of the nobility, 
 and their appellation was Dournay de Saint 
 Mort, and that they had dropped the title 
 only at the expulsion of the Huguenots 
 from France, and he would see to it, in 
 case Eric made a suitable marriage, that 
 his title was renewed, — yes, he could prob- 
 ably do more in his behalf. 
 
 Bella asked jokingly, whether he might 
 not desire to adopt him as a son. Clod- 
 wig declared that he was not disinclined to 
 do so. With a bitter smile, but to all ap- 
 pearance very lively, Bella answered that 
 it would seem very strange for her to have 
 a son only a few years younger than she 
 was herself. 
 
 Now the disentombed antiquities danced 
 joyously before the eyes of Clodwig, and 
 indulged in all sorts of antics. Frau 
 Bella, on the other hand, was exceedingly 
 out of humor ; it was a perpetual aston- 
 ishment to her, that her husband felt so 
 deep an interest in these matters. She 
 had not' used deception when, the winter 
 before their betrothal, she had appeared 
 to be a cultivated nature, recognizing the 
 more serious depths of existence, and had 
 manifested an interest in the art-productions 
 of the classic age, in the sciences, and in 
 the hierher realities of life; she had, in fact, 
 not wilfully misled him, for she had always 
 supposed that every one regarded these as 
 conversational topics, proper subjects for 
 small-talk. And in regard to the study of 
 the historical development of the past and 
 the present, it appeared to her as a tacitly 
 conventional pastime. 
 
 She was terror-stricken to perceive that 
 these great thoughts constituted her hus- 
 band's very life, that he sorrowed and 
 rejoiced in all that related to the world's 
 progress as in family occurrences, and 
 moreover that he was even religious. He 
 did not speak, as she did, of the dear 
 God, but he would remain in devout con- 
 templation at every manifestation of the 
 Eternal Providence, and wherever a con- 
 tradiction, a riddle, presented itself, he ex- 
 perienced even a degree of feverish dis- 
 turbance. 
 
 Bella did not confess to herself that the 
 whole appeared to her horribly pedantic, 
 like a preacher or a pedagogue ; she had 
 not thought that she was to marry a pedan- 
 tic professor, instead of a live man. 
 
 But whether avowed or not, this whole 
 matter of cherishing a so-called higher 
 interest was extremely wearisome to her. 
 Every one plays only his part in life, and who 
 is to regard it in serious earnest ? Those 
 poor devils, the scholars and the philan- 
 thropists, may do so, if they please, but not 
 a man of a higher station. Now it ap- 
 peared that Clodwig was ready to break up 
 a regular routine existence, tedious indeed, 
 but yet tranquil and honorable, by the sud- 
 den introduction of a stranger. It was pure 
 calumny, when they said of Bella that she 
 had married the count in the hope of be- 
 coming soon a rich and attractive widow. 
 The old Head-equerry had looked out for 
 a good marriage settlement, and a certain 
 part of the income of the great estate was 
 retained and invested yearly, which did not 
 go to the heir by the collateral line. As I 
 have (aid, it was unmitigated slander that 
 Bella htd gone to the altar cherishing a 
 hope of widowhood, but to her alarm — she 
 covered it up whenever she became con- 
 scious of it — she found herself growing 
 prematurely old by the side of her hus- 
 band, who was old enough to be her father. 
 
 And who knows how much money Clod- 
 wig will spend upon this adventurer, Dour- 
 nay, who has no regular occupation, and 
 besides, is not in favor at court ! But the 
 worst is, that this young man, with his con- 
 fident expectation of success, will wholly 
 withdraw from her the attention of her hus- 
 band. They will study with one another, 
 and make explorations, whilst thou wilt be 
 sitting all alone, thou, the young and fresh 
 heart that has devoted itself so nobly, so 
 truly, so self-forgetting, to the care of the 
 old man ! 
 
 Bella was sorely vexed at Eric, because 
 he made her entertain evil thoughts, and 
 suddenly, while looking at her husband, 
 she cried, — 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 95 
 
 " In God's name ! Your lips are white. 
 What is the matter?" 
 
 Were her evil thoughts suddenly to be 
 realized ? But Clodwig answered, — 
 
 " It's nothing. Look ! There he stands. 
 What a wonderful form! I fully believe 
 that he is occupied with thoughts of deepest 
 moment, as he stands there dreamily, gaz- 
 ing down at the grass." 
 
 The carriage rolled on. Eric heard his 
 name called, and looked in amazement at 
 the husband and wife, who gave him a cor- 
 dial greeting. He was made to take a seat 
 in the carriage, and Clodwig's glance to his 
 wife said, " Hast thou ever seen a nobler 
 specimen of a human form ? " 
 
 Eric was asked whether he had accepted 
 definitely the situation, and when he re- 
 plied in the negative, Clodwig extended his 
 hand to him, and said, — 
 
 " You will find a welcome with me." 
 
 Nothing farther could be said, for just 
 then Sonnenkamp trotted up on his black 
 horse, and he was extremely glad to be 
 able to salute such visitors ; he was very 
 much surprised, however, to see Eric on 
 such intimate terms with them. He rode 
 up to the coach-door, and very joyfully and 
 respectfully welcomed the guests to the 
 villa. 
 
 Hardly had they left the carriage, when 
 another drove into the court, and the phy- 
 sician got out. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE FIRST ROSE IN FREE-LAND. 
 
 Eric acquired an entirely new regard by 
 the arrival of Clodwig and Bella. For the 
 first time Sonnenkamp called him 44 dear 
 friend." 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp offered his arm to 
 Bella, which she accepted, turning slowly 
 ^toward him, that Clodwig might see how 
 great a sacrifice she was making ; her hand 
 rested lightly on Sonnenkamp's arm. As 
 she was thus walking on, holding the arm 
 of the master of the house, she stopped 
 full of wonder, for there was a rose bloom- 
 ing in full beauty upon a rose-bush raised 
 in the Republic. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp hastened to pluck it, 
 and presented it to her in some pretty 
 words. Bella said that she was very much 
 obliged to him, and seemed not to notice 
 that he again proffered his arm. They 
 went at once to the hot-houses. Joseph, 
 who was always present at the right time, 
 as if specially summoned, received from 
 his master orders to inform Fräulein Perini 
 and Frau Ceres of the visit. Joseph un- 
 derstood. 
 
 The doctor had been summoned to Frau 
 Ceres, but when she learned what guests 
 had arrived, she immediately declared that 
 she was well ; but she was cunning enough 
 to say to the doctor, that merely seeing him 
 had made her well. Doctor Richard under- 
 stood. 
 
 In the meantime, Clodwig had said to 
 Eric, "You don't remain here; you go 
 with us. I can't leave you." 
 
 He jerked the words out briefly and rap- 
 idly, as one utters in a compressed, uni- 
 form tone something which has lain in his 
 mind for a long time. 
 
 Just then, Roland came down the moun- 
 tain, with his camp-stool and drawing-board, 
 and Bella called out to him, while far off, in 
 a very friendly " welcome." 
 
 " How handsome he is !" said she to those 
 standing about her. "He who could fix per- 
 manently this image of the marvellous boy 
 as he is coming along, would have a pic- 
 ture out of the Grecian age, by changing 
 camp-stool and portfolio into spear and 
 shield." 
 
 Bella perceived the look of happiness in 
 Eric's eyes, and said to him : — " Yes, Herr 
 Doctor, I once gave to an artist at the cap- 
 ital the design for a picture as I saw Ro- 
 land ; he had sprung across the road, and 
 had cast an alms into the hat of a street- 
 beggar sitting upon a heap of stones ; and 
 as he sprang back, so well formed and grace- 
 ful, every muscle stretched, and his coun- 
 tenance so beaming with the delight of be- 
 neficence, it was a wonderful sight that can 
 never be forgotten." 
 
 Clodwig looked down to the ground ; 
 Bella was evidently not aware that it was 
 not she, but he, who had thus seen Roland 
 and given the order to the artist. 
 
 Roland was very much surprised at the 
 visit, and the manner in which he was 
 greeted, Bella saying to her husband, — 
 "Clodwig, kiss him for me!" Clodwig 
 embraced the youth, who now turned to 
 Eric with a puzzled look. 
 
 "If the Herr Captain remains with us, 
 you must visit us often, dear Roland," said 
 Bella. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was at a loss to know what 
 that meant, but the danger of losing Eric 
 seemed immediately to affect the youth, so 
 that he looked up in a help-imploring way. 
 And it was now clear to Eric, what was in- 
 tended in regard to him, and he now for 
 the first time understood what was inter- 
 rupted by Sonnenkamp's coming up to the 
 carriage. 
 
 They took only a hasty look at the 
 greenhouses, for Bella said that when it was 
 green and blooming outside, the imprison- 
 
96 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ment of the plants had something oppressive 
 to her. 
 
 Fraulein Perini soon appeared, sent by 
 Frau Ceres, to make known her intention 
 not to be sick to-day. 
 
 Bella and Fraulein Perini had separated 
 themselves from the men ; they had much to 
 say to each other, and Eric was naturally 
 the first subject. Bella could not forbear 
 expressing her surprise to Fräulein Perini, 
 that she had so completely seen through 
 the singular man, although Fräulein Perini 
 had not really yet said anything. But this 
 remark forced her to reply, though nothing 
 of her real opinion was given ; for Fräulein 
 Perini said that she constantly felt fresh ad- 
 miration at the German learned world, 
 meaning to include Bella, who was to be 
 almost looked upon as a learned woman. 
 
 Bella took no notice of this equivocal 
 compliment ; she assumed a matronly tone, 
 while confessing that she had no near rela- 
 tion to the young men of the day, and was 
 not sure that she understood them. Nei- 
 ther one of the ladies seemed to come out 
 fully with her opinion, and each appeared 
 to regard the other as cherishing a secret 
 inclination for Eric. 
 
 "Do you know," said Frau Bella, look- 
 ing very attentively at the rose which Son- 
 nenkamp had given her, " do you know 
 that this man with the double title has an in- 
 sultingly low opinion of the female sex ? " 
 
 " No, I did not know that, but it may be 
 a part of that radical heresy, as Baron von 
 Pranken calls it, which he parades with 
 such manifest conceit." 
 
 " But what opinion have you formed 
 about Herr Dournay ? " 
 
 "I have not formed any opinion about 
 him." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I am not impartial ; he does not belong 
 to our church." 
 
 "But supposing that he did belong to 
 our church, how would you then regard 
 him ? " 
 
 "It is not to be supposed. This compla- 
 cent self-assumption is not possible with a 
 person who has subjected himself to the di- 
 vine law ; his deportment is that of a prince 
 travelling incog., or more properly, as Herr 
 Baron von Pranken says, ' the man coaches 
 round the world in a lecturer's invisible 
 chair. 1 " 
 
 The two women laughed. Bella had 
 found out enough. She very carefully im- 
 pressed upon Fräulein Perini the necessity 
 of exerting all her influence against the re- 
 ception of a man proud of his unbelief. 
 Fräulein Perini held her cross with her left 
 hand, and looked somewhat mischievously 
 
 at Bella. Then the countess does not wish 
 to have him here. Is she trying to bring 
 him into her own house, and getting up a 
 nice intrigue against her husband? She 
 hinted, not without mischievous satisfaction, 
 that Herr von Pranken, who had occasioned 
 all this, must also find the proper remedy. 
 Bella gave out also that Eric was, perhaps, 
 unsuitable in another view ; and here, for 
 the third time, it was expressly said, that 
 Eric was a " dangerous" man. 
 
 Fräulein Perini had spoken of it as ap- 
 plicable, in two respects, to one present 
 and to one absent, for the special interest 
 of Bella had not escaped her penetrating 
 eye. 
 
 Quickly, and in order to conceal how 
 well she had hit the mark, she added, that 
 a man like Otto von Pranken had certainly 
 no one to be afraid of. She spoke with 
 sympathizing eagerness of his journey, that 
 perhaps it was imprudent, but one must let 
 the passionate youthful heart take its own 
 course, and it often brought about the right 
 result better than cautious deliberation and 
 consideration. But Fräulein Perini spoke 
 very plainly, and Bella replied as plainly, 
 in condemnation of Pranken's desire to go 
 counter to the social ordinances, but any 
 such tendency must be indulged, though 
 with great reluctance on their part. 
 
 Again the conversation reverted to Eric, 
 and Bella was now extremely good-hu- 
 mored. She pitied the man's aged mo- 
 ther, regarded the self-conscious bearing of 
 the youth as in reality timidity ; he carried 
 a haughty outside, that he might cover up 
 thereby the menial dependence. An ele- 
 vation of the eyelids disclosed that Fräu- 
 lein Perini was slightly hurt, and Frau 
 Bella quickly added, that pious natures 
 are never really oppressed by dependence, 
 for they have in themselves a higher posi- 
 tion, yes, they are through piety constituted 
 the equals of anybody. 
 
 Fräulein Perini smiled ; she understood 
 how kindly Bella treated her, and there was 
 no need of the friendly pressure of the 
 hand to make her perceive it. 
 
 A servant came, and announced that 
 Frau Ceres would receive the gracious 
 countess in the balcony-saloon ; she was not 
 allowed by her physician to go out into the 
 open air. 
 
 Fräulein Perini accompanied Bella as far 
 as the outside-stairs, and made there a very 
 polite courtesy ; Bella, however, grasped 
 both her hands with irrepressible cordiality, 
 and said that she should like such a friend 
 as Fräulein Perini for daily intercourse ; 
 she pressingly urged her to confer the 
 honor of a visit without any delay. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 97 
 
 When the rustling of Bella's garments 
 was no longer heard, Fräulein Perini clawed 
 with her little hand like a cat, which, si- 
 lently lurking, has caught something ; con- 
 temptuously she opened her eyes, always 
 so veiled, and her small mouth almost 
 uttered the words, — 
 
 44 You are all deluded." 
 
 Frau Ceres complained of her constant 
 suffering, and Frau Bella attempted to 
 console her, saying that she had everything, 
 and especially such splendid children. She 
 knew not which to praise most, the charm- 
 ing attractions of Roland, or the angelic na- 
 ture of Manna. 
 
 Bella seldom came into Sonnenkamp's 
 house, but when she came there, she was 
 always seized by a passion which is per- 
 haps peculiarly a woman's passion. She 
 lived at Wolfsgarten in an abundance which 
 left nothing to be desired, but as soon 
 as she drove through the gate of Villa 
 Eden, an evil spirit came over her; and 
 the demon's name is Envy — envy of this 
 exuberant superfluity, where there was no 
 dragging along under the burden of old 
 lumber and decaying remnants, but every- 
 thing newly created. And as often as she 
 thought of Frau Ceres, sparkles flashed 
 before her eyes, for she saw then the dia- 
 mond ornaments of Frau Ceres, such as the 
 reigning princess herself did not possess. 
 
 She was thoroughly condescending and 
 gracious to Frau Ceres, and she was happy 
 that she could be condescending. These 
 people can buy everything for themselves, 
 but not a noble, historically famous name ; 
 and if the proposal of Otto succeeds, it is only 
 the covering up of lowness with a fresh 
 varnish, which is always begging, "Do not 
 touch me, if you do, I shall rub off." 
 
 Eric was here also naturally a prominent 
 subject of conversation, and Frau Bella 
 pressed the rose to her mouth, in order to 
 hide her laugh, when Frau Ceres said, — 
 
 44 1 should like to have the Herr Captain 
 for myself." 
 
 44 For yourself? " 
 
 * 4 Yes . But I don't think I can learn any- 
 thing more, I am too old and too stupid. 
 He hasn't let me learn anything." 
 
 Frau Bella contested very zealously this 
 modesty. Was not Frau Ceres beautiful 
 and young ? She might be taken indeed 
 for Roland's sister. Was she not prudent 
 and elegant in her deportment ? Frau 
 Ceres smiled and nodded continually, ap- 
 pearing to believe that it was all true. But 
 now Bella felt obliged to take her leave, as 
 she desired to spare the delicate organiza- 
 tion of Frau Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Frau Ceres looked up timidly at these 
 
 words ; she did not know whether that was 
 praise or blame. Bella took leave, kissing 
 Frau Ceres upon the forehead . 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp had left the count and 
 Eric ; he had many things to see after in 
 the house, also letters and despatches had 
 come in, which required an immediate an- 
 swer. He sent moreover for the Major to 
 dinner, and gave orders that if they did not 
 find him at home, they should go for him 
 to the castle. 
 
 Clodwig went with Roland and Eric to 
 their room, and before they were aware, 
 they became engaged so earnestly in con- 
 versation that they wholly forgot Roland. 
 The youth sat there dumb, looking some- 
 times at one, and sometimes at the other. 
 He did not understand what they were say- 
 ing, but he could feel how much they were 
 enjoying. When Clodwig had retired to 
 his own room, Roland seized Eric's hand 
 and cried : — 
 
 44 1 will also learn, I will also study all, 
 whatever you want ; I want to be like you 
 and Clodwig." 
 
 A thrill passed through Eric's soul. The 
 invitation from Clodwig was exactly the 
 ideal of all that he could desire, but here 
 was an actual duty of life ; he could not 
 choose any longer what course to take. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 I SERVE. 
 
 The Major fortunately came as they were 
 about to sit down to dinner. He was ex- 
 tremely glad to meet Clodwig and Bella 
 here ; every manifestation of friendliness 
 between individuals was a cordial to him : 
 it confirmed his proposition that all human 
 beings were immeasurably good, and he 
 could thereby silence the revilers and the 
 doubters. He was grateful to Clodwig and 
 Bella, as if he had received a personal fa- 
 vor ; he looked at the chairs as if he would 
 enjoin them to seat right comfortably their 
 occupants. He extended his hand to Eric 
 as to a son ; he had become thoroughly 
 attached to him, and now he complained to 
 him, with the tone of a child who has eaten 
 dainties by stealth, that he had allowed him- 
 self to be enticed ; for, wishing to see for 
 himself whether the workmen at the castle 
 had good food to eat, he had made trial of 
 it, and it tasted so unexpectedly good, that 
 he had completely satisfied his appetite. 
 
 Eric comforted him with the suggestion, 
 that the nice dishes might yet perhaps find 
 some spare room. 
 
 The Major nodded ; he said to Joseph 
 the magic word, 44 Allasch." Joseph un- 
 derstood. At a small side-table he poured 
 
98 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 out from a bottle surrounded by little 
 glasses ; the Major drank off the tonic. 
 
 " That's a quartermaster ; 11 then he nod- 
 ded to Eric, and his face laughed all over, 
 as Eric responded : — 
 
 " Of course, the spirit orders the vulgar 
 mass to give way." 
 
 Frau Ceres did not come to dinner. They 
 had hardly taken their seats, before -the 
 physician was called away ; he immediately 
 rose. Sonnenkamp entreated him to re- 
 main, but Clodwig said in a very decided 
 tone, that he would like to urge him to obey 
 the summons, for if one placed himself in 
 the situation of those who were expecting 
 the physician, it would appear a cruel thing 
 to be detaining him here meanwhile for 
 one's own enjoyment. 
 
 "That is a nobleman, a genuine noble- 
 man ! " said the Major to Eric, and Roland, 
 on hearing it, looked round as if somebody 
 had suddenly seized hold of him. Is his 
 father, then, not noble, for desiring the 
 contrary ? 
 
 Eric had a feeling of what was passing in 
 the boy's mind, and said to the Major, so 
 that Roland could not but hear him, — 
 
 "Herr Sonnenkamp spoke on the very 
 just supposition, that the country people 
 very often exaggerate the danger, and need- 
 lessly hurry the physician." 
 
 " That's true. I've made a mistake, — I 
 thank you, comrade." 
 
 Roland drew a long breath, he gave Eric 
 a smile ; he would have liked to embrace 
 and to kiss him. 
 
 Eric understood this smile. The table 
 seemed disturbed, for the physician, who 
 had easily and briskly led the conversation, 
 left a gap by his departure ; and as they 
 were obliged to sit more closely together 
 bodily, in order to fill up this vacant space, 
 so it seemed as if they must now also for 
 the first time draw nearer together spirit- 
 ually. And the call made upon them to 
 go, in imagination, with the physician to 
 the bedside of a moaning patient, 'a,nd to 
 the lamenting relatives, had also interrupted 
 the pleasant mood with which they had 
 seated themselves in good cheer at the 
 table. 
 
 Eric, who might well consider that the 
 visit of Clodwig and Bella was meant for 
 him, felt under a double obligation to en- 
 tertain the guests as well as he could, and 
 bring the company at table into a congenial 
 mood. But while he was yet in search of 
 some thoughts to direct the general conver- 
 sation, the Major stole a march upon him. 
 
 He smiled beforehand very pleasantly, for 
 he had something to tell, and now was the 
 aptest time. 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp," he began, and his 
 face again became blood-red, for he had to 
 speak in the presence of many persons, -s— 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, it is said in the news- 
 paper that you are soon to receive a great 
 number of visitors." 
 
 " I ? In the newspaper ? " 
 
 " Yes. It is not said in so many words, 
 but I infer so. It is said there, that an emi- 
 gration is now taking place from America, 
 on account of the high cost of living there ; 
 many families are coming from the New 
 World to Europe, because they can live 
 with us at more reasonable prices, and in a 
 pleasanter way." 
 
 The Major congratulated himself, that he 
 had pushed forward into the gap something 
 very agreeable and very suitable. He drank 
 off, at one draught, with great gusto, a glass 
 of his favorite Burgundy. 
 
 Sonnenkamp remarked in a careless way, 
 that probably a prejudice would be created 
 against Americans, like that which existed 
 against English travellers. 
 
 No one again took up the conversation ; 
 they would gladly have heard Clodwig talk, 
 but he was constrained from the feeling that 
 he had intruded into a strange house, had 
 there sat down as a guest, and yet all the 
 time, he was intending to commit a theft. 
 This made him ill at ease and reserved. 
 
 Eric took a different view of his deport- 
 ment. He gave a fortunate turn to the 
 conversation, referring to Goethe's poem 
 which extolled America because it had no 
 ruined castles, and passing on to the favor- 
 ite pursuits of Clodwig and of Sonnenkamp, 
 and indeed drawing a parallel between a 
 fondness for antiquity and for the rearing 
 of plants. Eric was very animated and 
 communicative, introducing matters which 
 he knew would awaken interest, and yet in 
 the very midst of his talk there was an ac- 
 companying feeling of self-reproach. Until 
 now, throughout his whole life, he had sim- 
 ply replied to questions put to him, and had 
 always spoken either to impart something to 
 others, or to enlighten them ; now he was 
 speaking with the view, at any rate with the 
 secondary view, of appearing well, taking 
 pleasure in the effect of this and that ex- 
 pression. He was startled when he be- 
 came aware of it, and continued speaking 
 further. He repelled the reproachful sug- 
 gestion, saying to himself that it was really 
 his duty to play the part of host. • His eyes 
 glistened, and he brought Sonnenkamp and 
 Clodwig into a state of pleasant animation. 
 
 The ladies also received their share. But 
 Bella had a manner, — and since she had it, 
 it must be well-mannered, — when she was 
 not leading the conversation, — no mattei 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 99 
 
 who was speaking, or what was spoken 
 about, — a manner of introducing into the 
 little circle, where it was a disturbing ele- 
 ment, a dialogue with the person sitting 
 next to her, and hindering him, even if he 
 wished to do so, from falling into the gen- 
 eral stream of conversation. 
 
 Eric had vanity enough to make him note 
 her want of interest ; it vexed him at first, 
 but afterwards he thought no more about it. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp was very well satisfied 
 with the family-tutor, who not only made a 
 good appearance in his own sphere, and 
 gave to him the rightful consideration, but 
 whose very presence was an ornament of 
 the house, and brought to his table the no- 
 blest of the land. 
 
 Clodwig again requested that he might 
 be immediately informed of every remains 
 of Roman Antiquities discovered in the res- 
 toration of the castle ; Sonnenkamp prom- 
 ised it with readiness, and gave an extremely 
 humorous account of the silly motives attrib- 
 uted to him for rebuilding the castle. 
 Some said he wished to figure in " Biide- 
 ker's Traveller's Manual," which people 
 carried with them in the summer season, 
 when they passed up and down the river, 
 so that the castle might be pointed at, and 
 the bored English, with finger upon the line 
 of the book, might gape at it awhile with 
 open mouth ; but that really an aesthetic rea- 
 son determined him. He honestly confessed 
 that he intended,in rebuilding the castle, to 
 give a harmonious finish to the view from his 
 work-room window, desiring at the same 
 time to make some contribution to the beauty 
 of the German fatherland. 
 
 There was always a peculiar tang in Son- 
 nenkamp's utterance of these words, " Ger- 
 man fatherland ; " one could detect therein 
 something like deep-seated savage hate, and 
 yet the tone was rather that of tender pity 
 and commiseration. Sonnenkamp knew 
 that Clodwig was, of all things else, a pa- 
 triot, and he was ready to strike this chord. 
 Eric looked at Roland, to see if he noticed 
 the hypocrisy, for it was no longer ago than 
 Sunday, that Sonnenkamp had expressed 
 himself so strangely and contemptuously, 
 when the conversation turned on the sub- 
 
 ject of voting. But Roland's features were 
 motionless. 
 
 In one view, it was encouraging that the 
 inconsiderate mind of the youth did not per- 
 ceive the contradiction ; while in another, 
 Eric saw here an enhancement of the diffi- 
 culty of his work as an educator ; it was in- 
 deed his principal problem, to awaken and 
 to establish in the mind of his pupil the con- 
 secutiveness and interlinking of all thought 
 and all action. 
 
 Sonnenkamp expatiated, too, on the many 
 strange things imputed to him ; and yet no 
 one had really made the charge : but he him- 
 self, together with Pranken, had spread the 
 report, that he was desirous of giving his 
 own name to the castle, the line of the orig- 
 inal family having long since become ex- 
 tinct. It was reported that the Rauhenberg 
 coat of arms was not accurately known, and 
 yet that it was purposed to place it again 
 over the entrance of the restored castle. 
 
 Clodwig, who prided himself, notwith- 
 standing all his liberality, in knowing the 
 genealogy of all the princely and noble 
 families, with their coats of arms, affirmed 
 that the Rauhenberg coat of arms was un- 
 mistakably certain, and that it had as a de- 
 vice a Moor's head on a blue ground in the 
 left field, and in the right, a pair of scales. 
 The family had greatly distinguished itself 
 in the crusades, and had been at that time 
 invested with a high judicial function. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled in a very friendly 
 manner, and he almost grinned, as he re- 
 quested the count to favor him, as soon as 
 possible, with a drawing. 
 
 Eric's rich store of knowledge was again 
 a matter of surprise, as he excited attention 
 by the information he gave concerning ar- 
 morial mottoes. 
 
 ^ They were in very good spirits whilst as- 
 signing to some one of their circle of ac- 
 quaintance one and another motto, which 
 sometimes seemed a laughable contrast to 
 the real character, and sometimes a striking 
 expression of it. 
 
 " What motto would you select for your- 
 self?" Sonnenkamp asked Eric; and he 
 gave for a reply these two simple words : — 
 M I serve." 
 
100 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A DOUBLE RESCUE. 
 
 It happened, as if by accident, that Eric 
 and Frau Bella walked together, and Bella 
 tried a little experiment to see in what di- 
 rection it would be safe to venture, by re- 
 marking that she was surprised at Eric's 
 understanding her good husband so thorough- 
 ly, for it was not so easy to live with him 
 as it seemed. She said this very warily, 
 and it might be taken for simple praise. 
 Eric replied : — 
 
 " The world is so much the more indebted 
 to you, gracious lady, for the count has 
 gained new youth through you." 
 
 Bella nodded. Eric had quietly and se- 
 curely taken the first step toward a good 
 understanding ; to recognize her sacrifice 
 was a delicate politeness on his part. She 
 went on to speak very enthusiastically of 
 Clodwig, and of her happiness in being able 
 to do anything towards cherishing a pure 
 spirit, without making any demand for her- 
 self. It was so beautiful to sacrifice one's 
 self, to serve quietly, unrecognized and un- 
 noticed ; and here there came in a word 
 about the childlike ' mind, so placed that 
 Eric could apply all she had said to his vo- 
 cation as a teacher. 
 
 Eric expressed his agreement with her, 
 simply and without embarrassment, and 
 Frau Bella could not tell whether he had 
 really not understood her, or whether he 
 chose to seem not to understand. She 
 knew how to intimate with delicacy how 
 difficult it was to deal with just such a man 
 as Clodwig, though he seemed so unexact- 
 ing and so yielding ; she begged Eric to help 
 her in making the evening of his days com- 
 pletely happy ; she said all this with a tone 
 of feeling which was not to be mistaken. 
 
 Eric expressed his doubt whether it 
 would be well to disturb so peaceful a life 
 by the introduction of a third person ; he 
 acknowledged that he was still wanting in 
 tact, was capricious, and passionate. 
 
 "You are so sincere that you have no 
 need of being diffident," answered Bella. 
 
 She looked searchingly at Eric ; her fan 
 fell, and as he picked it up she gave him 
 her hand in thanks. With much tact and 
 elegance of expression, but with emotion 
 which made her breast heave, she extolled 
 the good fortune which allowed her to de- 
 vote herself to a noble man, and to have a 
 friend who thoroughly understood her. 
 Eric could not tell whether the latter part 
 of her remark applied to him or to Clodwig. 
 
 "There he comes ! " cried Bella sudden- 
 ly. " See, it is a peculiarity of his never 
 to carry a cane, though he needs it." 
 
 She went to meet her husband, and he 
 turned his steps towards her. Clodwig 
 seated himself under a fine cedar, where 
 pretty rustic chairs were placed ; Eric and 
 Bella stood before him. And now Clodwig 
 explained his whole plan, painting so at- 
 tractively the pleasantly busy life which 
 they would lead together, that Eric's cheeks 
 glowed. In a voice full of emotion he ex- 
 pressed his gratitude, and said that he felt 
 bound by duty to the decision which his 
 heart had made. 
 
 Bella rested one hand on Clodwig's chair, 
 and Eric went on to say that he rejoiced 
 that anything so attractive had been offered 
 him, because he derived thence an assur- 
 ance that he had chosen the right course, 
 that which accorded with his duty. A great 
 and difficult task was laid upon him in Ro- 
 land's education, and the very fact, that so 
 different and charming a life was now 
 opened to him, made him happy by renew- 
 ing and confirming his confidence in his 
 decision ; and the offered alternative helped 
 him to recognize his choice as a real duty. 
 
 For a while Clodwig looked down, and 
 Bella, taking her hand from his chair, stood 
 suddenly erect. Then, as Eric represented 
 his delight in Roland, and the mysterious, 
 happy attraction which he felt towards him, 
 even towards his faults, Clodwig smiled, as 
 he looked up into the branches, for just as 
 Eric felt drawn to Roland with enthusiastic 
 love, he was drawn to Eric ; the sentiments 
 were exactly analogous. Yet he was un- 
 willing to give Eric up, and pointed out to 
 him again that he could not cut off all other 
 influences in educating Roland, but that he 
 would have to contend with elements which 
 perhaps he could never conquer. 
 
 " Ah, there comes the doctor," he inter- 
 rupted himself ; " are you willing to call in 
 a third person to the decision ? " 
 
 " No one but myself can make the de- 
 cision," answered Eric, " however difficult 
 it may be ; but I have not the least objec- 
 tion to entrust the office of umpire to our 
 friend." 
 
 This was done ; but, to the surprise of 
 all, the physician decided against both par- 
 ties ; he expressed his wish that some one 
 would enable Eric to see Italy and Greece. 
 
 Before Clodwig could answer, Eric inter- 
 posed, saying that he was bent on finding 
 some employment, so that he could support 
 himself and his mother from his own means. 
 
 Rising with difficulty, Clodwig said, — 
 
 " Young friend, give me your arm." He 
 stood erect, and turned toward Eric, on 
 whose arm his hand lay heavy and tremb- 
 ling. 
 
 " I don't know," said he, "I should not 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 101 
 
 think I was the man who had been through 
 such hard experience as I have ; I am to- 
 day undergoing a bitter experience. Is it 
 old age which makes it so difficult for me 
 to give up a desire ? I have learned to do 
 so before now. Yes, yes ; a man becomes 
 childish — childish ; a child cannot give up." 
 
 He leaned heavily on Eric, who was 
 shaken to the depth of his soul by the 
 emotion of the noble man. He did not know 
 what to reply, and Clodwig continued : — 
 
 " I feel as if I knew not where I am. 
 Do you not think it is very close ? " 
 
 " No. Will you not sit down ? 11 
 
 Hastily loosing his hold of Eric's arm to 
 pass his hand over his face, Clodwig said, — 
 
 " My young friend, when I die — " 
 
 Hardly had he uttered the word, when he 
 sank down ; Eric caught him in his arms. 
 Bella, who was walking behind with the 
 physician, uttered a cry ; the physician hur- 
 ried to the spot ; Eric stooped, raised Clod- 
 wig in his arms like a child — all this was 
 the work of a moment. 
 
 Clodwig was carried into the great draw- 
 ing-room, and laid upon a sofa. Bella 
 sobbed aloud, but the doctor soothed her. 
 He had a remedy with him which soon re- 
 stored Clodwig to consciousness ; he begged 
 Eric and Bella to leave the room as soon as 
 the count had spoken. 
 
 Outside, Bella threw herself on Eric's 
 breast, and he trembled as he felt her 
 breath on his face, and a thrill ran through 
 him as the beautiful woman leaned upon 
 him in such passionate and unrestrained 
 excitement. 
 
 "You are our helper, our friend in 
 need ! O my friend, my. friend ! M 
 
 Sonnenkamp entered hastily, and Bella, 
 standing erect, with wonderful composure 
 addressed him, saying, — 
 
 "Herr Sonnenkamp! our mutual friend, 
 Captain Dourhay, is a blessing to us all ; 
 with the strength of a giant he carried my 
 husband. Thank him with me." 
 
 Eric was astonished at this rapid recov- 
 ery of self-control. 
 
 The physician came out, and Sonnen- 
 kamp asked anxiously, — 
 
 " How is he ? how is he ? " 
 
 His mind was set at rest by the doctor's 
 declaration that it had been a very slight 
 attack, which would have no bad conse- 
 quences. Clodwig requested that Eric 
 would come to him. 
 
 Eric entered the drawing-room. Clodwig 
 sitting upright held out his hand to Eric, 
 saying, with a wonderfully bright smile, — 
 
 " I must finish my sentence ; I was going 
 to say : When I die, my young friend, I 
 should like to have you near me. But 
 
 don't be anxious, it will not be for a long 
 time yet. There, now sit down by me. 
 Where is my wife ? " 
 
 Eric went to call her, and she entered, 
 with the physician and Sonnenkamp. 
 
 The doctor was not only willing, but 
 expressly desired that Bella and Clodwig 
 should return directly to Wolfsgarten. 
 Sonnenkamp raised various objections, 
 wishing to keep his noble guests with him, 
 and saying with great hospitality, — 
 
 " Consider my house exactly as if it 
 were your own." 
 
 " Will you permit Herr Dournay to ac- 
 company us ? " asked Clodwig. 
 
 Sonnenkamp started as he answered 
 quickly, — 
 
 " I have no permission to give the cap- 
 tain, but if you are determined to go, I 
 would ask him as a favor to accompany 
 you, with a promise of returning to us." 
 
 "You will go with us also?" begged 
 Bella of the physician, who assented. 
 
 So the four drove off through the mild 
 spring night ; little was said, though once 
 Clodwig seized Eric's hand, with the words, 
 " You are very strong." 
 
 Eric and the doctor spent the night at 
 Wolfsgarten. • In the early morning, the 
 physician prepared for departure while 
 Eric was still sleeping soundly ; he woke 
 him and said, — ' 
 
 " Doctor, remain here to-day, but no 
 longer." 
 
 Eric stared at him. 
 
 " Did you understand me ? " 
 ■ "Yes." 
 
 " Now, good-bye." 
 
 Again Eric spent a whole day at Wolfs- 
 garten. Clodwig was as cheerful and serene 
 as ever ; Bella's bearing toward Eric was 
 shy, almost timid. 
 
 In the evening Sonnenkamp and Roland 
 rode over, and Eric returned with them to 
 Villa Eden. Sonnenkamp was in very 
 good spirits, and the blood mounted to 
 Eric's face as he said, looking sharply at 
 him, — 
 
 " Countess Bella will make a beautiful 
 widow." 
 
 On the evening of the following day the 
 physician appeared again at Villa Eden; 
 he had been at Wolfsgarten and brought 
 a good report. He took Eric aside, and 
 said, — 
 
 " You have confided to me that you 
 neither expect, nor will accept in a per- 
 sonal interview, a decisive answer from 
 Herr Sonnenkamp. I approve of that ; it 
 can be much better settled by letter. You 
 will see more clearly, away from him, and 
 so will he. So I advise you to leave the 
 
102 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 house ; every hour that you remain is your 
 ruin.'" 
 
 "My ruin?" Eric was startled. 
 
 The physician said, smiling, — 
 
 " Yes, my dear friend, this forced exhibi- 
 tion of yourself, which has now lasted al- 
 most a week, is injuring you." 
 
 He continued, after a pause, — 
 
 "No man can be on parade for a week 
 without receiving some harm. You must 
 go away, or you will become an actor, or 
 a preacher, or both together. You re- 
 peat what you have learned, and repeat it 
 with the conscious purpose of producing 
 a given effect. Therefore away with you ! 
 you have been examining, and examined, 
 long enough. Come with me, spend the 
 night at my house ; to-morrow return to 
 your mother, and wait quietly for what 
 may come next." 
 
 " But Roland," asked Eric, "how can I 
 leave the boy behind ? His heart has turned 
 to me, as mine has to him." 
 
 " That's well, very well. Then let him 
 wait and long for you. Let him learn that 
 the rich cannot have everything. Let him 
 feel obliged to sue for you. All that will 
 give you a power of incalculable influence 
 in the family and over your pupil. Let 
 me act for you now ; to-morrow morning 
 you will see with my eyes." 
 
 " There is my hand. I'll go with you ! " 
 answered Eric. 
 
 There was great surprise in the house 
 when the announcement of Eric's sudden 
 departure was made ; an hour had scarcely 
 elapsed when he entered the physician's 
 carriage. 
 
 Eric was glad that his leave-taking of 
 Roland was hurried. The boy could not 
 understand what had happened ; his emotion 
 prevented him from speaking. After Eric 
 had seated himself in the doctor's carriage, 
 Roland came with one of the puppies and 
 laid it in his lap, tout the physician gave it 
 back, saying that he could not take it, it 
 was too young to be taken from the mother ; 
 but he would see that Eric should have it 
 eventually. 
 
 Roland gazed wonderingly after the de- 
 parting guests. In the boy's heart there 
 was a confused whirl of all the feelings 
 which he had experienced in the few days 
 since Eric's arrival ; but Eric did not look 
 back. In his father's house the boy felt as 
 if abandoned in a strange land. He took 
 the young dog by the nape of the neck, and 
 was about to throw it from him, but the 
 puppy whimpered pitifully, and he pressed 
 it to his breast, saying, — "Be quiet, 
 nothing is hurting you ; but I'm not a dog, 
 and I don't whine, now don't you whine 
 
 any more either. He didn't want either of 
 us." Roland carried the dog to its mother, 
 who was very glad to see her pup again. 
 
 " I'll go to my mother, too," said Roland ; 
 but he had first to be announced. She al- 
 lowed him to enter, and when he lamented 
 that Eric had gone so suddenly, she said, — 
 
 " That's right ; I advised him to go." 
 
 "You? Why?" 
 
 " Oh, your stupid why ! One can't be al- 
 ways answering your why ! " 
 
 Roland was silent, and his mother's kiss 
 almost pained him. 
 
 He wanted to go to his father, but found 
 that he had driven to the castle with the 
 Major. 
 
 Deserted and lonely, he stood in the 
 court ; at last he went into the stable, sat 
 down by his dogs and watched their amus- 
 ing actions ; then he went to his horse, and 
 stood quietly leaning on his neck for a long 
 time. Strange thoughts rolled tumultuously 
 through the boy's brain. The horse and dog 
 are yours ; only what one can buy and pos- 
 sess is his own. 
 
 Like a flash of lightning, just seen, then 
 gone again, there woke in the boy's soul the 
 idea that nothing but love can give one hu- 
 man being possession of another. He was 
 not used to steady thinking, and this into 
 which he had fallen brought on a real head- 
 ache. He had his horse saddled, and rode 
 off over the road which Eric and the doctor 
 had taken. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE PRACTICAL NATURE. 
 
 Eric sat quiet and thoughtful by the 
 doctor's side, and was disturbed by no word 
 from him, seeming to himself to be driven 
 hither and thither by wind and wave. A 
 few days before, he had ridden to this place 
 on a stranger's horse, and now he sat in a 
 stranger's carriage ; he had become inter- 
 mingled with the life and destiny of so 
 many persons, and this could no longer 
 count for anything in his and their exist- 
 ence. He could not anticipate, however, 
 that an unexpected event was awaiting 
 him. 
 
 " You believe then in education? " asked 
 the doctor at last. 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean." 
 
 " I place no dependence whatever on ed- 
 ucation ; men become what nature fits them 
 to be. They attain, under all relations, 
 what is called their destiny. As the hu- 
 man being lies in his cradle, so he lies in 
 his coffin. Some little help comes from 
 talents and capabilities, but as a whole they 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 103 
 
 are only incidental ; the natural bias gives 
 the home blow." 
 
 Eric had no heart to enter upon these 
 discussions ; he was weary of this everlast- 
 ing game of words. 
 
 The doctor continued : — 
 
 " I have a peculiar grudge against these 
 people ; it vexes me that these rich people 
 should buy for themselves the fragrant 
 fruits of higher culture ; then, again, I am 
 consoled by the word of Him who stood at 
 the very centre of thought, and said, ' A 
 rich man cannot enter into the kingdom of 
 God.' The rich are too heavily ballasted ; 
 they have a pampered existence, they are 
 removed far from the actual needs of life, 
 and they withdraw themselves from the 
 natural influences of the seasons; they 
 flit into different climates and out of 
 them again, and everywhere they have 
 comfortably prepared swallow-nests. It 
 would be an intolerable heartlessness of 
 fate, if, without any irksome toil, they 
 are to have also the higher joys as a pos- 
 session, which belong alone to us." 
 
 " There is no royal road to geometry, is 
 Euclid's saying," Eric interposed; "sci- 
 ence and knowledge are acquired only 
 through labor, and what I want to do with 
 this boy can all be comprehended in one 
 word : I want to give him self-activity." 
 
 " Just so," replied the physician ; " yes, 
 that's it ! we who live to the spirit have the 
 advantage over the rich in this respect, 
 that we are alone by ourselves ; the rich 
 man does not know the silent growth in the 
 dewy stillness of solitude ; he always has so 
 much, he nevar has himself, and never him- 
 self alone. This is what I understand by 
 that verse of the Bible, 1 What shall it profit 
 thee, if thou shalt gain the whole world, and 
 lose thine own soul? That is to say, Art 
 never alone in thyself, with thyself? He 
 who has nowhere to lay his head, he can 
 yet carry his head high and free. You see 
 it was to some purpose that I studied the- 
 ology for two years, until I came to see 
 that though much cannot be effected, yet 
 more is to be done by practising quackery 
 on the body, than on the soul." 
 
 The doctor could not speak, he laughed 
 so heartily. At last he said, — 
 
 " The great question always is, how re- 
 ceptivity itself confers upon one all that is 
 desirable. That would be your principal 
 task, to awaken and to perfect in Roland 
 his power of receptivity. He must first of 
 all, be taught in a regular way. In what he 
 knows of the world, he is yet a child, and 
 in what he desires of the world, he is a man, 
 one may say a live man." 
 
 Eric had much to say in reply, but he 
 
 smiled to himself, for he thought how easy 
 it is to theorize. The doctor had justly 
 found fault with him for enlarging upon so 
 many topics, and now he was to perceive 
 that he could be silent. He said nothing, 
 and the doctor continued : — 
 
 " As to the rest, I can tender you effect- 
 ual aid, if you conclude to accept the posi- 
 tion. Pity that ypu are not a medical man ; 
 as I look at it, no one but a physician 
 should be an educator. Have you taken 
 notice that the young fellow has a poor di- 
 gestion ? a young man in these times ought 
 to be able to digest pebble-stones ! I can- 
 not bring it about that only simple kinds 
 of food should be given him. The noble 
 and the rich eat without hunger, and drink 
 without thirst. This young man can have 
 everything but one real, substantial en- 
 joyment. It is a small matter, but take it 
 just for an example : Roland receives no 
 enjoyment from new clothes. Now strike 
 this joy out of your childhood, out of your 
 youth. I must confess, that I can take 
 pleasure for weeks in a well-fitting gar- 
 ment, as often as I put it on. What are 
 you smiling at ? " the physician interrupted 
 himself. 
 
 "I am thinking of a theological friend," 
 answered Eric. " How he would be aston- 
 ished, if any one should say to him, that 
 the fall, which brought with it the con- 
 sciousness of nakedness, has become the 
 very foundation of all the enjoyment that 
 comes from weaving, making, and sewing 
 clothes." 
 
 The doctor smiled too, but he stuck to 
 his subject, and went on, — 
 
 "Food and clothes are of the greatest im- 
 portance, but the third most important 
 thing is sleep ; it is the regulator of life. 
 Air, nourishment, and sleep are the three 
 fundamental conditions of vegetative life. 
 I believe, captain, that I know something 
 about you already, but I cannot pronounce 
 a full verdict upon you, until I have seen 
 you sleep. Our nineteenth century sleeps 
 poorly ; our education, our labor, and our 
 politics ought to be so arranged that peo- 
 ple can once more get better sleef). I 
 should like to be able to write a history of 
 sleep, showing how different nations and 
 different ages have slept; that would lay 
 bare to us the deepest roots of all the man- 
 ifestations of civilization. As far as re- 
 gards Roland, there is in him a strange 
 blending of temperaments from the father's 
 and the mother's constitution." 
 
 The doctor pictured out the muscular or- 
 ganization of Sonnenkamp, and the strug- 
 gle he was obliged to make every moment 
 with his violent natural tendencies. 1 ' A cer- 
 
104 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 tain indomitable energy in him always en- 
 ters a disclaimer against bis mildness, which 
 is at once seen to be a result of self-com- 
 pulsion and of voluntary effort. He is a 
 suppressed pugilist, and he has in fact, as 
 he once himself boasted in an unguarded 
 moment, an iron fist. The old Germans 
 must have possessed this stalwart force, 
 who, with their naked arms, overthrew and 
 crushed the mail-clad Romans." 
 
 The physician laughed, and he could 
 hardly succeed in narrating how, when he 
 first saw Sonnenkamp, he always looked 
 for the club which seemed to belong to 
 such a man's hand. When he behaved in a 
 friendly way, then it seemed always as if 
 he said, Be quiet, I won't hurt you. And 
 moreover, Sonnenkamp had a heart-disease, 
 according to all pathologic signs, and he 
 was obliged, therefore, to guard against 
 every agitating emotion. 
 
 He cautioned Eric, particularly, not to 
 make easy terms with Sonnenkamp when 
 he came to a definite understanding, for if 
 he did he would lose all hold upon him. 
 
 "You see," he said, "the priests, and 
 we physicians, always give our masses and 
 receipts in Latin ; for who would gulp 
 down for us sulphuric acid, if that were 
 written on the paper in good German ? 
 So you will see that you can make an im- 
 pression upon Herr Sonnenkamp only by 
 ä certain mysterious loftiness ; otherwise 
 he fancies that he can make quick work 
 with you." 
 
 The doctor then gave a very hnmorous 
 description of v the sleepy existence of Frau 
 Geres, to whom the sharp-tongued, but 
 still more envious Countess Wolfsgarteh 
 had given the epithet "crocodile," because 
 she really had some of the traits of that 
 monster as he basks in the sun. For Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, there was no mode of activity 
 in which he could let out his energies ; and 
 for Frau Ceres, there was no exertion that 
 was not an effort. She was not really to 
 be blamed for having her dress changed 
 three times a day, without sticking in a 
 single pin herself; that she walked about 
 her chamber for hours together, looked at 
 herself from every point of view, fed her 
 parrot, played "patience," and cherished 
 her nails. The poor creature ought always 
 to live simply and naturally, but even 
 those more highly endowed cannot do that. 
 She was indeed weak and dependent, but 
 she was also artful and capricious. 
 
 Eric was on the point of confiding to the 
 doctor his interview with Frau Ceres, but 
 before he could open his lips, the doctor 
 began to narrate : — 
 
 " It may be now almost a year since an 
 
 occurrence took place which I could not 
 have believed possible. I was sent for to 
 the villa. The daughter of the house was in 
 a condition of muscular rigidity, and at the 
 same time delirium, which I could not com- 
 prehend. Fraulein Perini told me that the 
 girl had clasped her hands together so 
 tightly, that they had been drawn apart 
 only by the aid of two servants, although 
 the girl herself opposed no resistance, and 
 when I came the fingers were still clenched. 
 I could never find out what extreme mental 
 excitement could have produced such a con- 
 dition of the body ; I could only learn this 
 much, that Herr Sonnenkamp had refused 
 his wife something or other which she 
 strongly desired. She revenged herself by 
 confiding to her daughter, who had hitherto 
 reverenced her father as a higher being, 
 something which put the poor girl into this 
 state of excitement. But when she recov- 
 ered, she continued melancholy, until they 
 sent her to the convent, where she gained 
 new animation." 
 
 Eric turned the conversation to the 
 reasons why Sonnenkamp was so much 
 hated and calumniated. The physician 
 readily took up the subject, and explained 
 that the poor nobility looked out for every 
 blemish as a natural defence against a man 
 of such immeasurable wealth, who almost 
 personally insulted them by his outlays. 
 Herr von Pranken was the only one favora- 
 bly disposed towards him, and he was so, 
 not merely because he wanted to marry his 
 daughter, but there was also a natural at- 
 traction to each other, for Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp was deeply interested in himself, and 
 Herr von Pranken deluded his neighbor as 
 himself. " And now, my friend," con- 
 cluded the physician, " now see to it, how 
 you come into this house with the right un- 
 derstanding." 
 
 " I have one request," Eric at last began. 
 "Let me hear what you would say to a 
 friend concerning me, if I were absent. 
 Will you do that?" 
 
 " Certainly ; this is what I intended to do. 
 You are an idealist. Ah ! how hard a time 
 people have with their ideal ! You ideal- 
 ists, you who are always thinking, toiling, 
 and feeling for others, you seem to me like 
 a landlord who has an inn on the road v or 
 in some beautiful situation. He must get 
 everything in readiness, and pray to God 
 all the time : Send good weather and many 
 guests ! He himself cannot control either 
 weather or guests. So the counsel is very 
 simple. Don't be a landlord of the inn of 
 ideality, but eat and drink, yourself, with a 
 good zest, and don't think of others ; they 
 will themselves call for their own portion, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 105 
 
 or bring it with them in their knapsack ; if 
 not, they can go hungry and thirsty. I 
 have found that there are only two ways of 
 coming to terms with life : either to be 
 wholly out with the world, or wholly out 
 with one's self. The youth of to-day have yet 
 a third way : it is to-be at the same time out 
 with the world and with themselves. 
 
 " That is, I am sorry to say, my case." 
 
 " And just for that reason," continued 
 the doctor, taking off his huge glove, and 
 laying his hand on Eric's shoulder, "just 
 for that reason, I should desire for you 
 some different lot — I don't know what — I 
 cannot think of any." 
 
 A long row of wagons loaded with 
 stripped beach-boughs came along the road. 
 The physician gave the information that 
 they had already extracted from these 
 branches various chemical substances, and 
 now they were carrying them to a powder- 
 mill. Eric said that he knew it, that he 
 had been ordered to a powder-mill in the 
 mountains for a long time, and was em- 
 ployed there. 
 
 The doctor was silent, and looking up, 
 he saw that some one was greeting him. 
 An open carriage drawn by two dapple- 
 gray horses came towards them, and a hand- 
 some young man, sitting in it and driving 
 himself, was already bowing from a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 The doctor ordered his carriage to be 
 stopped. 
 
 " Welcome ! " he cried to the young man. 
 They shook hands from their vehicles, and 
 the doctor asked, — 
 
 " How are Louise and the children ? " 
 
 "All well." 
 
 " Have you been to your mother's ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How are your parents ? " 
 
 M They are well too." 
 
 The doctor introduced the young man as 
 Herr Henry Weidmann, his sister's son-in- 
 law. 
 
 "Are you the son of the Herr Weid- 
 mann whom I have so often heard of? " 
 " Most certainly." 
 
 " Where is your father now ?" asked the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Yonder there in the village; they are 
 considering about establishing a powder- 
 mill." 
 
 Something seemed to come into the doc- 
 tor's mind like a flash ; he turned quickly 
 round to Eric, but did not utter a word. 
 The young man asked excuse for his haste, 
 as he was obliged to be at the station at a 
 particular hour, and soon took leave. 
 
 The young Weidmann said hurriedly to 
 Eric, that he hoped this would not be their 
 
 last meeting, and that next time he hoped 
 they would not pass each other in this way, 
 and that his father would be glad to see 
 him. 
 
 The two carriages drove on, each in its 
 own direction. 
 
 The doctor informed Eric that his sister's 
 son-in-law was a practical chemist, and he 
 murmured to himself, — 
 
 ' " Trump called for, trump shown." Eric 
 did not understand him ; he thought, smiling, 
 how Pranken had spoken of Weidmann's 
 sons, with the impertinently white teeth. 
 
 The carriage drove on. Just as they 
 were entering the next village, the steam- 
 boat from the upper Rhine came along ; the 
 doctor ordered the coachman to drive as 
 rapidly as possible, in order to reach the 
 landing in time. They went at a tearing 
 gallop. The doctor cried, — 
 
 " I have it now! I have it now!" He 
 struck Eric's arm at the same time, as if 
 he were giving a blow upon the table that 
 would make the glasses jingle, and he held 
 it with no gentle grasp. 
 
 The carriage reached the landing just as 
 the plank was thrown from it to the steam- 
 boat. The doctor got out quickly, and told 
 the coachman to say to his wife that he 
 would not be home until evening ; then he 
 took Eric by the arm, and went with him on 
 board the boat. Only after it had got 
 under way, could Eric ask him if he were 
 going to visit a patient. The doctor nod- 
 ded ; he thought that he was safe in saying 
 so, for he had a patient with him whom he 
 was curing constitutionally. 
 
 The physician was immediately greeted 
 by acquaintances on board, and a company 
 around a punch-bowl invited him and his 
 friend to join them ; he touched glasses, 
 but did not drink, for he said that he never 
 took mixed drinks. The company was 
 merry ; a deformed passenger played upon 
 an accordion, and accompanied the singing. 
 
 On the deck, at a little table upon which 
 stood a bottle of champagne in a wine- 
 cooler, the Wine-cavalier was seated, and 
 opposite him was a handsome woman, with 
 a great deal of false hair, and also peculi- 
 arly attractive charms of her own. They 
 were smoking cigarettes, and chatting very 
 fast in French. The Wine-cavalier avoided 
 meeting the physician's eye, and the physi- 
 cian nodded to himself, as much as to say, 
 " Good, a little shame yet left." 
 
 When they came in sight of the village 
 which his son-in-law had mentioned, the 
 doctor told Eric that he would now inform 
 him directly that he was going with him to 
 Weidmann's ; lie was the man who under- 
 stood how to help him, and his advice was 
 
106 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 to be unconditionally followed. For a time 
 Eric was perplexed, but then it appeared to 
 him again as a strangely interesting thing, 
 that now perhaps he was to pass through an 
 entirely new and unanticipated examination. 
 He and the doctor entered the boat which 
 landed the passengers from the steamboat, 
 and those on board, with glass in hand, 
 bade them farewell ; the steamboat was 
 soon out of sight. Even the boatman knew 
 the doctor, and said to him, greeting him 
 in a familiar way, — 
 
 " You will find Herr Weidmann yonder 
 in the garden." 
 
 They landed at the quiet village. Eric 
 was introduced to Weidmann. He was 
 a lean man, and, at first sight, seemed un- 
 interesting ; his features had an expression 
 of quiet self-possession and intelligence, 
 but in his gleaming eye lay a burning en- 
 thusiasm. Weidmann sat with several per- 
 sons at a table, on which were papers, bot- 
 tles, and glasses. 
 
 He nodded in a friendly way, and then 
 turned to the persons with whom he had 
 been conversing. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 STRIVE TO MAKE MONEY. 
 
 It is not well to hear a man so much 
 spoken of and praised, before seeing him 
 face to face. It seemed incomprehensible 
 to Eric how this man exerted such a wide 
 influence, and impossible for himself to en- 
 ter into his life. The doctor was immedi- 
 ately called away, for the landlord's father 
 being sick, his arrival was regarded as 
 very fortunate. Eric walked up and down 
 the shore ; he seemed to himself to be 
 thrown into a strange world, and to be 
 borne along by strange potencies. How 
 long it was since he had left Roland, how 
 long since he went by this village, which 
 was then to him only a name ! Now, per- 
 haps, some eventful occurrence was to take 
 place here, and the name of this village to 
 be stamped indelibly upon his life. 
 
 * 4 Herr Captain ! Herr Weidmann wishes 
 me to ask you to come into the garden," the 
 boatman cried to him. 
 
 Eric went back into the garden, where 
 Weidmann came to him, with an entirely 
 different mien, saying that he would now, 
 for the first time, bid him welcome ; previ- 
 ously he had been very busy. A short time 
 afterwards the doctor also came. 
 
 The three now seated themselves at the 
 table in a corner of the garden, where there 
 was an extensive prospect, and Weidmann 
 began in a humorous way to depict "the he- 
 roic treatment" of the doctor's practice, who 
 
 liked to deal in drastic remedies. A suit- 
 able point of agreement was established be- 
 tween Eric and Weidmann, while they 
 united in a facetious, but entirely respectful 
 assault upon the doctor. 
 
 Eric learned that the doctor had already 
 proposed that he should undertake the su- 
 perintendence of the powder-mill. Weid- 
 mann, in the meanwhile, explained that the 
 difficulties were too great, and that the 
 government threw in the way all sorts of 
 obstacles, although they wanted principally 
 to open a market in the New World, and 
 with this view, his nephew, Doctor Fritz, 
 had sent over from America, and had well 
 recommended, one of the men with whom 
 he had just been conversing. And his 
 nephew desired that they would find some 
 experienced German artillery officer, who 
 would emigrate to America, and there take 
 charge of a manufactory of gunpowder 
 and matches, with the sure prospect of soon 
 making a fortune. 
 
 The doctor looked towards Eric, but he 
 smiled and shook his head in the negative. 
 
 Weidmann informed them further, that a 
 discovery had been lately made of a deposit 
 of manganese, and that they were desirous 
 of forming a company to work the mine ; 
 that a man who knew how to regulate mat- 
 ters might easily make himself acquainted 
 with the business. 
 
 He also looked inquiringly at Eric, and 
 then made him the direct offer of a consid- 
 erable salary, and an increasing share of 
 the profits. 
 
 Eric declined, courteously and gratefully, 
 as he had not entirely decided whether he 
 would engage at all in any new pursuit. 
 The doctor entered warmly into the matter, 
 and extolled the superiority of our age, in 
 which men of ripe scientific attainments de- 
 .voted themselves to active employments, 
 and, through their independent property, 
 created a commonalty such as no period of 
 history had ever before known. 
 
 " ' This is ours, this is ours, 1 we com- 
 moners can say; Don't you think so? " 
 
 " Most certainly." 
 
 '* Now then, go thou and do likewise." 
 
 And he added to this, how glad the 
 Weidmann family would be to receive him 
 into their circle. 
 
 Eric smilingly replied, that he felt obliged 
 to decline this very friendly offer ; that he 
 valued very highly the independence which 
 property gives, but was not adapted to a 
 life of acquisition. 
 
 ' * Indeed ? " cried the doctor, and there 
 was something of contempt in his tone. 
 " Do you know how the question of our 
 age is put ? It is, To use, or to be used ? 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 107 
 
 Why are you willing to be used by this Herr 
 Sonnenkamp ? 11 
 
 "You surely would not want me to use 
 other people, and appropriate to myself 
 the product of their labor ? " 
 
 "It is not well," interposed Weidmann, 
 "to generalize in this way upon a wholly 
 personal question. I see — I expected that 
 the utter separation of the rich and the 
 poor would vitally interest you ; but here 
 we have our doctor, and he will agree with 
 me, that it is with the so-called social 
 maladies as with those of the body. We 
 know to-day, better than any period has 
 ever known* the scientific diagnosis of dis- 
 ease, but we are ignorant of the specific 
 remedy, and a disease must be known a 
 long time, and known very thoroughly, 
 before its method of cure is discovered ; 
 yet we must put up with it, in the mean- 
 time, and let it pass." 
 
 " Have you had no craving to be rich ? " 
 the doctor cried, apparently excited. 
 
 " It would be unwise to have a craving 
 for what I cannot obtain through my own 
 capabilities. 1 ' 
 
 Weidmann's eye was quietly fixed upon 
 Eric's countenance ; the latter was aware 
 of it, and whilst he thought, at this mo- 
 ment, that he could with a motion of his 
 hand quietly relinquish all the offered 
 riches of the world, the temptation came 
 over his soul, What it would be for one to 
 be free from all the cares of life, and to be 
 able to devote himself to life itself; and he 
 saw also how he could gratify every wish 
 of his mother and his aunt. 
 
 But no ; the first wish of his mother will 
 be that he should remain true to himself. 
 And the more Clodwig there, and here the 
 physician, wanted to turn him aside from 
 his vocation, so much the clearer was it to 
 him, that he not only must abide by that 
 vocation, but that he also had incurred a 
 moral obligation to Roland. 
 
 Weidmann related that he had received a 
 letter from New York, from his nephew, 
 Doctor Fritz, who was going to send im- 
 mediately his young daughter to be edu- 
 cated in Germany. The conversation now 
 turned upon persons and things with which 
 Eric was unacquainted. 
 
 The boatman came to inform them that 
 the last steamboat was now coming up 
 the river. 
 
 The doctor and Eric took hasty leave of 
 Weidmann, who warmly shook Eric's hand, 
 and requested him to claim his help in any 
 situation in life where he could be of 
 service. 
 
 The physician and Eric got into the boat 
 and were rowed to the steamboat. Hardly 
 
 a word was spoken by them during the 
 passage to 'the town, where they were to 
 disembark. 
 
 When they reached it, men and women 
 were walking under the newly-planted 
 lindens, for it is always a significant event 
 of the day when the steamboat arrives, 
 which remains here over night. The wife 
 of the doctor was also at the landing, and 
 she went homeward with Eric and her 
 husband. She was very friendly to Eric, 
 whom she had already met at Wolfsgarten ; 
 Eric, indeed, had no recollection of her, 
 for at that time he had scarcely noticed, in 
 fact, the modest, silent woman. 
 
 Many persons were waiting at the house 
 for the physician. Eric was shown into 
 his chamber, and then into the library ; he 
 was glad to see that the physician kept 
 abreast with all the new investigations of 
 Bis science, and he hoped through his help - 
 to fill up many a gap in his own knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 The twilight came on ; as Eric was sit- 
 ting quietly in a large chair, he heard a 
 horse trotting by the house. He involun- 
 tarily stood up, and looked out ; he thought 
 that the rider who had just passed was 
 Roland, or had only his own imagination, 
 and his continual thinking about the boy, 
 deluded him ? 
 
 There was an air of comfort in the phy- 
 sician's house, and everything gave evi- 
 dence of solid prosperity ; but the physi- 
 cian was obliged to go from the tea-table 
 to a neighboring village. 
 
 Eric walked with the doctor's wife along 
 the pretty road on the bank of the river, 
 and there was a double satisfaction in her 
 words, as she said that she greatly desired 
 that her husband could have constant inter- 
 course with such a mentally active friend 
 as Eric, for he often felt himself lonely 
 here in the town, and he was often obliged 
 to depend wholly upon himself. 
 
 Eric was happy, for he perceived in this 
 not only a friendly appreciation of himself, 
 but also the deep and intelligent esteem of 
 the wife, who would like to bestow upon 
 her husband a permanent blessing. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A CHEERFUL LITTLE TOWN. 
 
 There was a genuine neighborly feeling 
 among the inhabitants of this small town. 
 People called out to friends who were 
 standing at the windows and on* the bal- 
 conies, or walking in the streets ; groups 
 were formed, where much chatting and 
 jesting went on, while from windows, here 
 
108 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 and there piano-playing and singing were 
 heard. 
 
 The justice's wife and her daughter 
 Lina joined Erie and his hostess. People 
 were surprised that he was leaving Son- 
 nenkamp's house, as the report had already 
 spread that he was to remain there. And 
 now Eric learned that Roland had really 
 ridden through the town, passing several 
 times before the physician's house, and 
 letting his horse prance so that it fright- 
 ened one to look at him. 
 
 Lina was burning with eagerness to 
 speak to Eric alone for a moment, and she 
 found her opportunity when they met the 
 school-director and his wife, and the two 
 elder ladies stopped to inquire about the 
 health of the forester's wife, who lived in 
 the director's house. Lina went on with 
 Eric, and said abruptly : — 
 
 "Do you know that your pupil Roland 
 has a sister ? 11 
 
 " Certainly. I have heard so." 
 
 " Heard so ? Why, you have seen her. 
 She was the young girl with the star on 
 her forehead, and the wings, who met us in 
 the twilight on the cloister steps." 
 
 " Ah, indeed !" 
 
 M Ah, indeed ! " mimicked Lina. " Oh ! 
 you men are dreadful ; I have always 
 thought that you " 
 
 She stopped and Eric asked : — 
 
 "That I — what of me?" 
 
 " Ah, mother is right, I am too heedless 
 and clumsy, and say everything that comes 
 into my head ; I should have believed you 
 now " 
 
 *' That you may do ; it is a sin to be un- 
 true, and a double sin to be so towards 
 you." 
 
 " Well then," said Lina, taking off her 
 straw hat, and shaking the curls in her 
 neck, " well then, if you will honestly con- 
 fess, that Manna made an impression on 
 you at that time, I will tell you some- 
 thing ; but you must be frank and sin- 
 cere." 
 
 "My dear young lady, do you think I 
 would say no ? You tempt me not to be sin- 
 cere." 
 
 "Well then, I'll tell you — but please 
 keep it to yourself won't you ? — Manna 
 asked me who you were, and that's a great 
 deal from her. Oh, Herr Captain, wealth 
 is a dreadful thing ; people offer themselves 
 only for the sake of a girl's money. — no, 
 I didn't mean to say that — but try to man- 
 age that Manna shall not be a nun." 
 
 "Can I prevent it?" 
 
 " Did you see the wooden shoes that the 
 nuns wore ? Horrid ! Manna would have 
 
 to wear those shoes, and she has the pretti- 
 est little foot." 
 
 " But why shouldn't she be a nun, if she 
 wants to ? " 
 
 Lina was puzzled, she was not prepared 
 for such an answer. She remembered, too, 
 that she was a good Catholic. 
 
 " Ah," she said plaintively, " I fancied to 
 myself — I am a silly child, am I not ? — in 
 old times a knight used to enter a castle 
 disguised as a squire or something else — 
 well, I thought now the squire must be a 
 tutor and then — " 
 
 She could not go on with her fancy sketch, 
 for her mother overtook them,- rather anx- 
 ious lest her daughter had made some of 
 her dreadfully simple speeches in her walk 
 with the stranger. 
 
 " May one know what you are talking 
 about so earnestly ? " asked the Justice's 
 wife. Lina drew a long breath, and put 
 her hat-elastic in her mouth, which her 
 mother had often forbidden, as Eric an- 
 swered with great unconcern, — 
 
 " Your daughter has beenreminding me 
 that I was not very attentive when we first 
 met on the convent island. I must ask 
 your pardon now, madame. It relieves my 
 mind of a burden of self-reproach to have 
 the opportunity of excusing myself to you, 
 and I earnestly beg that you will carry my 
 apologies to your husband. One meets in 
 travelling so many people who think to 
 make themselves of importance by being 
 ill-tempered, that one catches the unfriendly 
 spirit, and harms himself the most. If I 
 had not had the good fortune to meet you 
 again, a little misunderstanding would have 
 remained between us. Ah ! on such a 
 beautiful evening, by your beautiful river, 
 where people are so friendly and cheerful, 
 one longs to do some good to every one he 
 meets, and to say, Rejoice with me, dear 
 fellow-mate, dancing in the sunlight, for 
 the little time which is called life." 
 
 Eric was very animated, and the Justice's 
 wife much pleased with his demeanor. 
 The evening walk was most refreshing. 
 Lina directly gave up to her mother the 
 place next Eric, and walked on the other 
 side of the doctor's wife. The walk lasted 
 a long time> till the doctor's carriage was 
 heard in the distance by his wife, who knew 
 the sound of its wheels before the others 
 could distinguish anything. 
 
 The doctor joined them with a fresh fund 
 of cheerfulness, saying, — 
 
 " I was sent for to receive a confession, 
 and now I have lost an excellent reminder." 
 
 He went on to tell them that a man had 
 lived in the next village, the sight of whom 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 109 
 
 had always given him a stab in the heart, 
 for the man had sworn a false oath about 
 a hundred florins which he owed him. But 
 as time went on, he had become quite grate- 
 ful to this person for serving him as a re- 
 viver of his faith, because every time he met 
 him he felt a fresh belief in the meanness of 
 mankind, which one easily forgets. Now, 
 before his death, the man had confessed to 
 him and given back the money. So here he 
 was, a hundred florins richer, but he had 
 lost his faith. How could he laugh now at 
 the world, if he had no longer the meanness 
 of men to laugh at ? 
 
 ' ' What will you do now with the hun- 
 dred florins ?" asked Lina. 
 
 What would you do with them ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "What would you do, captain?" said 
 the physician, turning suddenly to Eric ; 
 "what would you do, if you had a million 
 to give away ? n 
 
 " I ? " asked Eric, somewhat taken aback. 
 He did not unde rstand the reason of the 
 sudden question. 
 
 " Yes, you." 
 
 " I never thought about it, but first I 
 would found valuable scholarships at all the 
 German universities. The man of wealth 
 ought to be able to reflect how he is culti- 
 vating the mind of the man of genius." 
 
 "Good," answered the doctor, "every 
 one thinks first of his own circle. Here's 
 my little friend Lina; if she had a million 
 to give away, she would spend it all on blue 
 muslin, and dress all the female world in it. 
 Wouldn't you, Musselina ? " 
 
 Lina was silent, and her mother said, 
 " Give some smart answer ; can't you think 
 of one ? " Lina apparently could not think 
 of one, but there was a pleasant, merry 
 tone in the intercourse between the doctor 
 and the child. 
 
 After their friends left them, the doctor 
 said to Eric, — 
 
 " You can become familiar with a new 
 method of instruction here. The Justice's 
 lady tries with all her might to make her 
 daughter a pert, worldly chatterbox, but 
 fortunately the child has a simple, genuine 
 nature which can't be spoiled, and when 
 you talk with her alone she is full of bub- 
 bling life, and rightly deserves the name of 
 Musselina." 
 
 The doctor was more friendly than ever 
 in his bearing towards Eric, for he saw 
 that he had wished to interfere in his life 
 too hastily and roughly. He expressed re- 
 gret that Eric had not seen Herr Weidmann 
 to advantage that day, as the latter had 
 been preoccupied, or something had gone 
 wrong with him, and he advised Eric not 
 
 to adopt a wrong impression in regard to 
 him. The doctor smiled, well pleased, 
 when Eric replied that he should not allow 
 himself to form an opinion of a view on the 
 Rhine which every one admired, if he had 
 seen it only through rain or mist. The phy- 
 sician had evidently been thinking much of 
 Eric during his drive ; he always addressed 
 him to-day as Herr Captain in a very marked 
 manner, and he explained this when he 
 held out his hand in bidding him good-night, 
 by saying, — ■ 
 
 " You are the first soldier with whom I 
 have, ever been able to live quite comforta- 
 bly. With all other officers, I have always 
 had a feeling of — I can't say fear, exactly 
 — but a certain consciousness of being un- 
 armed in the presence of an armed man. 
 You soldiers always have an air of prepa- 
 ration, of readiness for attack, in which 
 there's much that's good. I take back my 
 words ; perhaps a soldier can be a still 
 better educator than a physician. Well, 
 good-night ! " 
 
 When Eric was alone, everything van- 
 ished which he had seen or experienced 
 during the day, and Roland's form alone 
 remained before him. He tried to fancy 
 what the boy's thoughts were in riding after 
 him. He sought to transport himself into 
 the boy's state of feeling ; he could not en- 
 tirely do so, for Roland was full of anger 
 with Eric, for deserting one who was so 
 truly and fondly devoted to him. The boy 
 felt as if he had been robbed, and so he 
 rode over to the town fancying that Eric 
 must be coming to meet him, or must be 
 watching for him at the window ; he rode 
 back weeping with anger. , 
 
 The world, of which he was to possess so 
 much, appeared to him worthless and 
 strange, while it seemed to Eric, who had 
 nothing but his own thoughts, bathed in a 
 dew of blessing. In the stillness of the 
 night he thought over the hospitable and 
 homelike reception he had met from Clod- 
 wig, and now from the physician, and hos- 
 pitality seemed to him the purest fruit of 
 noble manhood. In ancient times men en- 
 tertained gods and angels, and they still 
 entertained them, for in freely offering 
 what one has to a stranger, whose very 
 existence was yesterday unknown, the di- 
 vine is unfolded in the pure soul. 
 
 Up yonder at Wolfsgarten, Eric had met 
 with a fatherly good- will, based upon con- 
 geniality of thought — here with the doctor, 
 as much goodwill as difference of opiniou : 
 but here, too, that personal friendliness 
 which is so satisfying and home-like. 
 
 There was Bella who always wished to 
 make an impression in her own behalf, and 
 
110 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 here was the doctor's wife, who wished noth- 
 ing for herself, who thanked Eric in her 
 heart, and wished -only that her husband 
 might have the good fortune to be able to 
 talk over learned subjects with another man. 
 And were these many forms, were all 
 these events, to be only the passing occur- 
 rences of a journey ? 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 AGAIN ALONE WITH THYSELF. 
 
 " In the morning, 1 ' the doctor often said, 
 "I am like a washed chimney-sweeper." 
 He rose, summer and winter, at five o'clock, 
 studied uninterruptedly several hours, and 
 answered only the most pressing calls from 
 his patients. Through this practice of 
 study he not only kept up his scientific 
 knowledge, but as be bathed his body in 
 fresh water, so was he also mentally invig- 
 orated ; let come what would of the day, he 
 had made sure of his portion of science. 
 And that was the reason — we may con- 
 gratulate ourselves upon knowing this se- 
 cret — that was the reason why the doctor 
 was so wide awake, so ready primed, and 
 so vivacious. He himself designated these 
 morning hours to an old fellow-student as 
 his camel-hours, when he drank himself full, 
 so that he could often refresh himself with 
 a draught in the dry desert. And life, more- 
 over, did not seem to him a desert, for he 
 had something which thrived everywhere, 
 and was all-prevailing, and that was an in- 
 destructible cheerfulness, and an equanim- 
 ity, which he attributed above all to his 
 sound digestion. 
 
 So was he sitting now ; and when he 
 heard Eric, whose room was over his study, 
 getting up, he sent word to him to come 
 soon to breakfast; and in this hour the 
 freshness of the man was yet wholly unim- 
 paired. His wife, who had to be busy, or 
 rather, who made herself busy about house- 
 hold matters, in order not to oblige her 
 husband to enter into any conversation on 
 less learned matters, had soon gone into 
 the garden, in which flourished many scions 
 and seeds of various kinds out of Sonnen- 
 kamp's garden. But the doctor conversed 
 with Eric upon no scientific topics. 
 
 In the breakfast-room there hung por- 
 traits of the parents and the grand-parents 
 of the physician, and he took occasion to 
 give some account of his own life. His 
 grandfather and father had been boat-men, 
 and the doctor had been present at the 
 golden wedding of both, and expressed his 
 hope to celebrate also his own. And after 
 he had portrayed his own struggle with life, 
 
 he proceeded to ask Eric about his pecuni- 
 ary affairs, and those of his mother. 
 
 Eric disclosed the whole state of the 
 case ; he described how his mother had 
 noble and rich friends, on whom she placed 
 great expectations, but he did not believe 
 in, and to speak honestly, he did not desire, 
 any help of that sort. The doctor asserted 
 in confirmation, that no one would help 
 them substantially and handsomely ; he un- 
 folded, as he went along, wholly heretical 
 views upon beneficence ; he expatiated upon 
 the nonsense of leaving endowments and 
 legacies in one's will, and on scattering 
 small donations. He thought it was much 
 handsomer, and more permanently benefi- 
 cial, to make an individual or a family en- 
 tirely independent, so that they may thereby 
 be the means of accomplishing greater goool. 
 He stated that he had often attempted to 
 bring this about ; nothing of this kind was 
 to be effected with Herr Sonnenkamp, who 
 would have nothing further to do with 
 people into whose hat he had cast an alms. 
 
 The conversation, in this way, having 
 once more turned upon Sonnenkamp, the 
 doctor offered to take upon himself all the 
 external financial arrangements with Son- 
 nenkamp, insisting upon Eric's consent to 
 his doing so. 
 
 "And do you take no farther trouble 
 about this man, 11 said the doctor, opening 
 an egg. "See, it is all a fair exchange. 
 We devour this egg with the greatest zest, 
 while the hen got her living out of the ma- 
 nure-heap." 
 
 Eric was happy with this lively, practical 
 j man. He expressed his satisfaction that, 
 I here in this little town, there were so many 
 ; noble persons, who could constitute a rich 
 i social environment. The doctor contested 
 ! this, for he considered that the necessity of 
 1 being thrown upon one another, and the 
 ! not being able to make a selection, as one 
 ! can do in a great city, belittled, contracted, 
 and created gossip. One had, indeed, in a 
 great city, no larger circle than was here 
 formed for the direct participation in the 
 various duties of life, but the necessity of 
 contracting marriages within such a limited 
 circle did not permit the existence of a free 
 social community. 
 
 "On the whole," he said in conclusion, 
 " we are no more to each other than a good 
 whist-party." 
 
 It was time to think of departing. Eric 
 1 left the house with a feeling of serene satis- 
 ! faction. The doctor drove him to the near- 
 est railroad station, where he got out and 
 warmly shook Eric's hand, repeating the 
 wish that they might be able to live together. 
 
 The train, meanwhile, stopped longer than 
 
THE COTJNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 usual at the little station, waiting the ar- 
 rival of the train from the lower Rhine 
 which was behind time. A merry crowd 
 of men, young and old, greeted the doctor 
 and seated themselves in the same car with 
 Eric. The doctor told him that they were 
 wine-testers, who were going to a sale which 
 was to take place to-day at the wine-count's 
 cellar. He called Eric's attention specially 
 to a jovial-looking man, the ganger, the 
 finest judge of wine in the district. The 
 doctor laughed heartily when Eric said to 
 him, that he had also gone about the whole 
 district testing wines, that is, the spiritual 
 wine of character. 
 
 *' Strange how you make an application 
 of everything ! " laughed the physician. 
 " Count Wolfsgarten, Pranken, Bella, Son- 
 nenkamp, the huntsman, Sevenpiper, Mus- 
 selina, Weidmann, Fräulein Perini, the Ma- 
 jor, the priest, I, and Roland — a fine spec- 
 imen-catalogue of wines. Look out that 
 you do not stagger as you come out of the 
 wine-cellar." 
 
 ■ The doctor suddenly turned round, and 
 cried : — 
 
 "You may yet induce me to put some- 
 thing in print. I am verily of the opinion, 
 that though there must be some consumers 
 who are not producers, there are no grad- 
 uated German heads that don't want, at 
 some time or other, to write a book ; per- 
 haps that helps them to study. And when 
 you come again, you will, perhaps, bring 
 me to the point of writing my history of 
 sleep." 
 
 The train from the lower Rhine whistled, 
 and the doctor, grasping Eric's hand again, 
 said with emotion, — 
 
 '* We are friends ! take notice, that if 
 either one of us is to be no longer the 
 other's friend, he pledges himself to give a 
 week's notice. And now farewell." 
 
 The last word was cut off, for the loco- 
 motive whistled, and Eric set out towards 
 home. 
 
 He was sitting with downcast eyes when 
 he heard some one in the car say, — 
 
 "There's young Sonnenkamp on horse- 
 back ! " 
 
 Eric looked out, and caught one more 
 
 glimpse of Roland, just as he disappeared 
 behind a little hill. 
 
 Eric heard nothing of the lively talk, 
 often interrupted by loud laughter, which 
 the wine-party kept up ; he had much in 
 the past and future to think over, and he 
 was glad when the party left the car at the 
 next station, and he remained alone. He 
 felt some repentance, and some doubt 
 whether he had not acted wrongly and un- 
 wisely in not concluding an arrangement 
 with Sonnenkamp, but he soon took cour- 
 age again and cast his regret behind him. 
 
 We are rapidly rolled along by the power 
 of steam. And in spirit ? How far are we 
 masters of our destiny ? 
 
 At several stations, school-boys, with 
 their satchels on their backs, entered Eric's 
 car. He learned, in answer to his ques- 
 tions, that they lived with their parents in 
 country-houses and distant villages, but 
 went every day to school in the city, return- 
 ing home in the evening. Eric thought 
 long on the new race of youths which is 
 growing up ; taking their places in the 
 noisy railway-train in the early morning, 
 then assembling for instruction, and going 
 home again over the railroad ; these boys 
 must and will learn to guard, in the rest- 
 lessness and tumult of the new age, their 
 own inner life, which is, indeed, quite dif- 
 ferent from ours. And then he looked far- 
 ther on into a future, when the alarming 
 growth of the great cities shall cease, and 
 men shall again live outside of them, where 
 the green fields, the rushing streams, and 
 the blue sky shall be daily before their eyes, 
 and yet it shall be granted them to make 
 their own the elements of culture, and all 
 which is now supplied by the union of men 
 in large towns. Then again will country 
 air force its way into the soul. 
 
 At the time when Eric and the doctor 
 were setting out, the justice's wife sat with 
 her husband and her daughter over their 
 morning coffee. The conversation turned 
 on the evening walk with Eric, and the lady 
 repeated his frank apologies. 
 
 "Very good, very good," said the jus- 
 tice. " He is polite and clever, but it's well 
 that he has gone ; he's a dangerous man." 
 
112 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER Ii 
 THE STRUGGLE IN A CHILD'S HEART. 
 
 The sparrows in the alders and willows 
 on the shore of the convent-island twittered 
 and chattered noisily together, they had so 
 much to say to each other about what they 
 had experienced during the day ; and who 
 knows whether their to-day was not a 
 much longer interval of time than ours ? 
 One puffed up by his experience — perhaps 
 we should say her experience, for the 
 feathers had lost their colors from age — 
 sat quietly in the crotch of a bough, com- 
 fortably resting against the trunk ; he 
 echoed and re-echoed his delight at the 
 splendid time he enjoyed over the river, 
 under the closely-trimmed branches of a 
 shady linden, in the vineyard by the 
 shore. 
 
 The waiter there had long delayed re- 
 moving the remnants of an English break- 
 fast, and there were cakes, the pieces, 
 alas ! too large, abundance of eggs, honey, 
 and sugar ; it was a feast without parallel. 
 He considered that the real joy of existence 
 had its first beginning when one wished to 
 know nothing more of all other things, and 
 had supreme satisfaction in eating and 
 drinking alone. Only in mature life did 
 one really come to that perception. 
 
 Others would listen to nothing from the 
 swaggering fellow, and there was an ir- 
 regular debate, whether lettuce-seeds or 
 young cabbage-heads were not much better 
 than all the cooked-up dishes of men. A 
 young rogue, fluttering around his roguish 
 mate, reported to her that behind the fer- 
 ryman's house, there hung from the garret- 
 window a bulging bag full of flax-seed ; 
 if one only knew how to rip open the seam a 
 little, one could gradually eat up all the 
 tidbits, but it must be kept a profound 
 secret, else the others would come too ; and 
 hemp-seed, it must be acknowledged, was 
 just the most precious good which this whole 
 round earth could furnish. The rogue was 
 of the opinion that her delicate bill was 
 exactly the nice thing to pick open the 
 seam ; it was the most contemptible base- 
 ness in human beings, to hang up in the 
 open air just the most tempting dainties all 
 fastened and tied up. 
 
 A late-comer, flying up in breathless 
 haste, announced that the scarecrow, stand- 
 ing in the field, was nothing but a "stick 
 with clothes hung upon it. 
 
 " Because the stupid men believe in 
 scarecrows, they think that we do too," 
 laughed he, and flapped his wings in as- 
 tonishment and pity at the manifest sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 There was a frantic bustle in the alders 
 and willows, and almost as frantic in the 
 great meadow, where the girls from the : 
 convent caught hold of each other, chat- 
 tered together, tittered, teased one an- 
 other, and laughed. 
 
 Apart from her noisy companions, and 
 frequently passing under the alder-trees 
 where there was such a merry gathering 
 of the birds, walked a girl slender in form 
 and graceful in movement, with black hair 
 and brilliant eyes, accompanied by a tall 
 and majestic woman in a nun's dress, 
 whose bearing had an expression of quiet 
 and decisive energy. Her lips were natu- 
 rally so pressed together, that the mouth 
 seemed only a narrow streak of red. The 
 entire brow was covered with a white ker- 
 chief, and the face, the large eyes, the 
 small eyebrows, the sharp nose, the closely 
 pressed lips, and the projecting but rather 
 handsome chin, had something command- 
 ing and immovable. 
 
 "Honored mother," began the maiden, 
 " you have read the letter from Fräulein 
 Perini ? " 
 
 The nun — it was the superior — only 
 turned her face a little ; she seemed to be 
 waiting for the maiden — it was Hermanna 
 Sonnenkamp — to speak further. 
 
 As Manna, however, was silent, the sup- 
 erior said : — 
 
 ■ ' Herr von Pranken is then to make 
 us a visit. He is a man of good family 
 and good morals, he seems a wordling, but 
 he is not one exactly. He has, indeed, the 
 impatience of the outside world ; I trust, 
 however, that he will not press his wooing 
 as long as you are here our child, that is to 
 say, the child of the Lord." 
 
 She spoke in a very deliberate tone, and 
 now stopped. 
 
 ' ' Let us go away from here ; the noise 
 of the birds above there allows one hardly 
 to hear herself speak." 
 
 They went by the churchyard, in the 
 middle of the island, to the grove growing 
 near a small rocky ledge, which the chil- 
 dren called the Switzerland of the island ; 
 there they sat down, and the superior con- 
 tinued : — 
 
 " I am sure of you, my child, that you 
 will decline hearing a word from Herr von 
 Pranken that has any reference to protesta- 
 tions of love, or to the soliciting your hand 
 in marriage." 
 
 "You know, honored mother," replied 
 Manna, — her voice was always pathetic, 
 and as if veiled with tears, — " you know, 
 honored mother, that I have promised to 
 take the veil." 
 
 " I know it, and I also do not know it, 
 
' THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 113 
 
 for what you now say or determine is for 
 ns like a word written in the sand, which 
 the wind and the footsteps of man may 
 efface. You must go out again into the 
 world; you must have overcome the world, 
 before you renounce it. Yes, my child ! 
 the whole world must appear to you like 
 your dolls, which you tell me of, — forgot- 
 ten, valueless, dead, — a child's toy, upon 
 which it is scarcely conceivable that so 
 much regard, so much love, should be 
 lavished." 
 
 For some time all was still, nothing was 
 to be heard but the song of the nightingale 
 in the thicket, and above the river ravens 
 were flying in flocks and singing — men 
 call it croaking — and soaring to their nests 
 in the mountain-cliffs. 
 
 " My child," began the superior, after 
 a while, " to-day is the anniversary of fny 
 mother's death ; I have to-day prayed for 
 her soul in eternity, as I did at that time. 
 At the time she died — men call it dying, 
 but it is only the birth into another life — 
 at that time, my vow forbade me to stand 
 by her death-bed ; it cost me - hardly a 
 struggle, for whether my parents are still 
 out there in the world, or above there in 
 heaven, it makes no difference to us. 
 Look, the water is now tinged with the 
 glow of evening, and people outside, on 
 the hills and on the banks, are speaking in 
 raptures of nature, that new idol which 
 they have set up, for they are the children 
 of nature ; but we are to be the children 
 of God, before whose sight all nature 
 seems only a void, under whatever color 
 it may appear, whether clothed in green, or 
 white with snow." 
 
 ** I believe, I comprehend that," Manna 
 said assentingly. 
 
 " That is why I say it to you," continued 
 the worthy mother. "It is a great thing 
 to overcome the world, to thrust it from 
 one's self, and never to long for it a single 
 instant, and to receive in exchange the 
 eternal blessedness, even while we dwell 
 here in the body. Yes, my child," she 
 laid both hands upon the head of Manna, 
 and continued, "I would like to give you 
 strength, my strength — no, not m'ine, that 
 which God has lent me. Thou art to struggle 
 hard and bravely with the world, thou art 
 to be tried and sifted, before thou comest 
 to us forever, to the fore-court of the 
 Kingdom of Heaven.'" 
 
 Manna had closed her eyes, and in her. 
 soul was the one only wish, that now the 
 earth might open and swallow her up, or 
 that some supernatural power would Come 
 and lift her up over all. When she opened 
 her eyes, and saw the marvellous splendor 
 
 of the sunset sky, the violet haze of the 
 mountains, and the river glowing in the 
 red beams of evening, she shut her eyes 
 again, and made a repellant movement with 
 her hand, as if she would have said, — I 
 will have nothing of thee ; thou shalt be 
 naught to me ; thou art'-only a doll, a life- 
 less thing, on which we waste our love. 
 
 With trembling voice Manna mourned 
 over her rent and tempest-tossed spirit ; a 
 few days before, she had sung and spoken 
 the message of the heralding angels, while 
 dark demons were raging within her. She 
 had spent the whole day in prayer, that she 
 might be worthy to announce such a mes- 
 sage, and then in the twilight a man had 
 appeared before her, and her eye had rested 
 on him with pleasure ; it was the tempter 
 who had approached her, and the figure 
 had followed her into her dreams. She had 
 risen at midnight, and wept, and prayed to 
 God that he would not suffer her to fall into 
 sin and ruin. But she had not conquered. 
 She scorned and hated the vision, but it 
 would not leave her. Now she begged that 
 some penance might be imposed upon her, 
 that she might be allowed to fast for three 
 days. 
 
 The superior gently consoled her, saying 
 that she must not blame herself so bitterly, 
 because the self-reproach increased the ex- 
 citement of fancy and feeling. At the 
 season when the elders were in bloom and 
 the nightingales sang, a maiden of seven- 
 teen was apt to be visited by dreams ; 
 Manna must not weep over these dreams, 
 but jus.t scare them away and mock at them ; 
 they were only to be driven off by ridicule. 
 
 Manna kissed the hands of the superior. 
 
 It became dark. The sparrows were si- 
 lent, the noisy children returned to the 
 house, and only the nightingale sang con- 
 tinually in the shrubbery. Manna turned 
 back to the convent, the superior leading' 
 her by the hand. She went to the large 
 dormitory, and sprinkled herself with holy 
 water. She continued praying silently long 
 after she had gone to bed, and fell asleep 
 with her hands folded. 
 
 The river swept rustling along the valley, 
 and swept rustling by the villa where Ro- 
 land slept with contemptuously curled lip ; 
 it rushed past the streets of the little town 
 where Eric was speculating upon this and 
 that in the doctor's house ; it rushed by the 
 inn where Pranken, leaning against the 
 window, stared over at the convent. 
 
 The moon shone on the river, and the 
 nightingales sang on the shore, and in the 
 houses thousands of people slept, forgetting- 
 joy and sorrow, until the day again dawned. 
 
114 THE COUNTRY-nOU 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A GREEN TWIG. 
 
 On the west side of the convent, under 
 the lofty, wide-spreading, thickly-leaved 
 chestnut-trees, beeches, and lindens, and 
 far in among the firs with their fresh shoots, 
 stationary tables and benches were ar- 
 ranged. Girls in blue dresses were sit- 
 ting here, reading, writing, or busy with 
 their hand-work. Sometimes there was a 
 low humming, but not louder than the hum- 
 ming of the bees in the blossoming chestnut- 
 trees ; sometimes a moving this way and 
 that, a change in one's position, but not 
 more than the fluttering of a bird in the 
 trees overhead. 
 
 Manna sat at the table beneath a large 
 fir-tree, and at a little distance from her, 
 on a low seat under a lofty beech on whose 
 trunk many names were ' carved, and on 
 which was suspended a framed picture of 
 the Madonna, sat a little child ; she looked 
 up frequently at Manna, who nodded to 
 her. indicating that she must study her 
 book more diligently, and be as busy as the 
 rest. The child was nicknamed Heimchen, 
 because she had suffered so much from 
 homesickness, and Heimchen had become 
 the pet of all the girls. Manna had cured 
 the child, to all appearance at least, for on 
 the day after the representation of the 
 sacred play, she had received permission 
 from a lay-sister who presided over the gar- 
 dening, to prepare for the child a separate 
 little garden-pljJt ; and now she seemed to 
 be taking root in the foreign land, as did 
 the plants which she had since watered and 
 cared for, but she was inseparable from 
 Manna. 
 
 Manna worked diligently ; some pale 
 blue paper was lying before her, and she 
 was painting on it, with a fine brush, pic- 
 tures of the stars in color of gold from small 
 shells. 
 
 She prided herself especially on having 
 the neatest writing-books, every leaf ruled 
 very regularly with lines close together, 
 and uniformly written upon, neither too 
 coarse nor too fine. Manna had received, 
 a few days since, the highest mark of honor 
 ever conferred on a pupil, by being unani- 
 mously made the recipient of the blue rib- 
 bon, which the three classes of the children, 
 namely, the children of Jesus, the angels of 
 Mary, and the children of Mary, had ad- 
 judged to her. There had hardly been any 
 election, so much a matter of course did it 
 seem that nobody but Manna could be de- 
 signated for the blue ribbon. This badge 
 of distinction gave her a sort of right to be 
 considered a superior. 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 While she was thus drawing, and fre- 
 quently running her eye over the children 
 left under her care, she had a book open by 
 her side ; it was Thomas a Kempis. While 
 putting in the stars, which she did with that 
 delicate and beautiful finish attainable, per- 
 haps, only in the convent, she snatched a 
 few sentences out of Thomas ä Kempis, 
 that her soul might be occupied with higher 
 thoughts during this trifling occupation. 
 
 The stroke of oars sounded from the 
 shore on that side : the girls looked up ; a 
 handsome young man was standing in the 
 boat, who lifted his hat and waved it, as if 
 saluting the island. 
 
 "Is he your brother? your cousin?" 
 was whispered here and there. 
 
 No one knew the stranger. 
 
 The boat came to land. The girls were 
 full of curiosity, but they dared not inter- 
 mit their work, for everything had its al- 
 lotted time. Luckily, a tall, fair-complex- 
 ioned maiden had used up all her green 
 worsted, so that* she must go to the con- 
 vent for more, and she nodded significantly 
 to the others that she would find out who 
 was the new arrival. But before the blond 
 girl could come back, a serving-sister ap- 
 peared, and informed Manna Sonnenkamp 
 that she was to come to the convent. Man- 
 na arose, and Heimchen, who wanted to go 
 with her, was bidden to remain ; the child 
 quietly seated herself again on her little 
 stool under the beech-tree from which 
 hung the picture of the Madonna. Manna 
 broke off a little freshly-budding twig from 
 the tree under which she had been sitting, 
 and placed it in her book as a mark ; she 
 then followed the sister. 
 
 There was great questioning among those 
 who remained : Who is he ? Is he a cousin ? 
 But the Sonnenkamps have no relatives in 
 Europe. Perhaps a cousin from America. 
 
 The children were uneasy, and seemed 
 to have no longer any inclination for their 
 studies. Manna had given to a companion 
 the blue sash which she wore on her right 
 shoulder, and this one felt it incumbent on 
 her to keep strict order. 
 
 Manna came to the convent. As she en- 
 tered the reception-room, to find the lady- 
 superior, Otto von Pranken rose quickly 
 and bowed. 
 
 "Herr von Pranken," said the superior, 
 "brings you a greeting from your parents 
 and Fräulein Perini." 
 
 Pranken approached Manna, and ex- 
 tended his hand, but as she had the book 
 in her right hand, she gave him in a hesi- 
 tating manner her left. Pranken, the flu- 
 ent talker, only stammered out — for Man- 
 na's appearance had greatly impressed him 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 115 
 
 — the expression of his satisfaction at see- 
 ing Manna so well and so'much grown, and 
 of the joy it would give her parents and 
 Fräulein Perini to see her again, so much 
 improved. 
 
 The stammering manner of Pranken, 
 moved as he was by repressed feeling, 
 lasted while he continued to speak further ; 
 for in the midst of his involuntary agitation, 
 he became suddenly aware that this evi- 
 dent emotion could not fail to be noticed 
 by Manna, and must produce some im- 
 pression upon her. He skilfully contrived 
 to keep up the same tone with which he 
 had begun, and congratulated himself on 
 his ability to play so well a bashful, timid, 
 and surprised part. He had many animat- 
 ing narratives to give of her family at home, 
 and congratulated the maiden on being al- 
 lowed to live on a blissful island until she 
 could return to the mainland, where a 
 pleasant company of friends formed also a 
 social mainland. Pranken contemplated 
 with a great deal of self-satisfaction this 
 comparison, as pretty as it was new. 
 
 Manna did not say a great deal ; at last 
 she asked, — 
 
 " Who may this Captain Dournay be, 
 of whom Roland writes to me so enthusi- 
 astically ? " 
 
 Pranken winced a little, but he said 
 smilingly, — 
 
 ' ' I was so fortunate as to find a poor 
 young man to instruct our Roland — per- 
 mit me to speak of him so, for I love him 
 like a brother — in a variety of matters. 
 I think that it will do Roland no harm to 
 acquire information from the man." 
 
 " Roland writes me that he is an intimate 
 friend of yours." N 
 
 " Herr Dournay has probably said so to 
 him, and I will not contradict it, if Ro- 
 land is thus led to entertain a higher re- 
 spect for a teacher. But, my dear Fräu- 
 lein, I may venture to say to you that I am 
 somewhat sparing in the use of the word 
 friend, and I would therefore rather not — " 
 
 " Then tell me something of the charac- 
 ter of this man who calls himself your 
 friend." 
 
 "Excuse me from giving the particular 
 details. You yourself will certainly agree 
 with me, that it is our duty to help toward 
 the good one who is striving to turn from 
 the error of his ways, even if we cannot 
 wholly blot out the past." 
 
 "What, then, has this Herr Dournay 
 done?" interposed the superior. "I 
 should be sorry on his mother's account, 
 who was a companion of my youth ; she is 
 a Protestant, to be sure, but she is what 
 the world calls good and noble." 
 
 Pranken appeared perplexed, but with a 
 motion of the hand which implied careful 
 consideration, kind intentions, and a sort of 
 delicate reservation, he said, looking down 
 at the floor, — 
 
 "Honored mother, and dear Fräulein! 
 Spare me from making such a statement 
 here in the convent, and consider what I 
 have touched upon as if it had not been said. 
 When I look around me here — as little 
 ought certain words, not perhaps so inap- 
 propriate in the world outside, to be spoken 
 aloud in this pure air, as unsaintly pictures, 
 to use a mild expression, to hang by the 
 side of the pious, transfigured forms upon 
 these pure walls. Permit me to say to you, 
 I have special guaranties that the poor 
 young man will not conduct himself un- 
 worthily." 
 
 Manna's countenance suddenly assumed 
 an expression of noble indignation as she 
 said, — 
 
 "But I cannot conceive how they can 
 commit my brother to the charge of a man, 
 who — ••" 
 
 Pranken prayed to be excused for inter- 
 rupting her. He conjured her by what was 
 high and holy, to forget that he, in his zeal 
 for the truth, had said anything against a 
 former comrade ; he had done it involun- 
 tarily in his contemplation of purity and 
 loveliness. He besought so earnestly, he 
 manifested so good a heart, so full of hu- 
 man love, that Manna now voluntarily ex- 
 tended to him her hand, and said, — 
 
 "I believe you. Ah, how rejoiced I am 
 you are so good ! " 
 
 Pranken was happy, but determined that 
 Eric should not be received into the family. 
 It seemed more and more puzzling to him 
 that he should himself have raised up such 
 an antagonist ; he was now doubly out of 
 humor with Eric, for he had been the oc- 
 casion of his being untrue and unjust, and 
 Pranken was too proud to be so misled, es- 
 pecially when a little caution on his own 
 part might have prevented the necessity of 
 it. 
 
 " Might I venture to request you to show 
 me the lines ? " he now said. " My object 
 is to see how good a judge of men Roland 
 has become. Would you be willing t: 
 show me what our splendid brother ha 
 written of this Herr Dournay ? " 
 
 Manna blushed, and replied that they 
 had better say no more about the captain ; 
 and she besought Pranken to do all he 
 could to remove the man out of the house, 
 if it were still a possible thing. Pranken 
 promised to do all in his power, and he re- 
 covered his natural elasticity while he 
 prayed Manna, in a lively tone, but sub- 
 
116 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 dued to the proprieties of the place, that 
 instead of giving him so easy a task, she 
 would commission him, like a knight of the 
 good old times, to contend against the 
 dragon-brood. And yet, while calling it 
 easy, he felt in his own heart that the task 
 could not rightly be called so. 
 
 The superior rose ; she thought that it 
 was high time, and a good time, too, to 
 break otf the conversation. Pranken had 
 renewed his acquaintance, and that must 
 suffice for the present. The superior was 
 not so resolutely bent upon the convent 
 for Manna, as to desire that Pranken might 
 not win her affections. Such a house and 
 such a family, endowed with such includible 
 wealth, might be of great advantage to the 
 convent and to the Church. 
 
 " It was very kind in you to visit us,' 1 
 she now said. " Carry my greeting, I pray, 
 to your sister, the Countess Bella, and say 
 to her that she is remembered in my 
 prayers. 11 
 
 Pranken saw that he was expected to 
 take leave, and yet he wanted to say some- 
 thing more definite, and to hear some word 
 which should give him the desired security. 
 His countenance suddenly lighted up, as he 
 said, with such modesty and such friendly 
 feeling that one could not refuse compli- 
 ance, — 
 
 "Fräulein Manna! We erring crea- 
 tures outside like to have a lasting token 
 in our hands. 11 
 
 "What do you want? 11 quickly and 
 sharply struck in the superior. 
 
 "Honored mother! I would beseech 
 you, 11 Pranken said, turning quickly with 
 humble mien toward the severe lady, "I 
 would beseech you to permit Fräulein Son- 
 nenkamp to give that book into my hand. 11 
 
 " Wonderful ! " cried Manna, " I wanted 
 to do that ! I wanted to give it to you to 
 carry to my brother. Ask him to ' read 
 every day a chapter, beginning from the 
 place where the green twig is put, so that 
 he may receive every daythe same thoughts 
 into his soul that I do. 11 
 
 " What happiness this harmony of feel- 
 ing, this oneness of sentiment, gives me ! 
 It would be a profanation to try to describe 
 it! 11 
 
 The superior was at a loss what to do, 
 and Pranken continued : — 
 
 "I beseech you, then, my honored Fräu- 
 lein, to pardon my presumption ; I would 
 like to request you to give me this holy 
 book for my own edification, and that I 
 too may be allowed to keep even step with 
 your brother and you. 11 
 
 "But my name is written in the book, 11 
 said Manna, blushing. 
 
 " So much the better," Pranken wanted 
 to say, but luckily he was able to withhold 
 it; he turned to the superior, folded his 
 hands, and stood as if praying her to grant 
 his petition. The superior nodded her 
 head several times, and at last said, — 
 
 "My child, you may, perhaps, comply 
 with this request of Herr von Pranken. 
 And now, farewell. 11 
 
 Pranken received the book. He left the 
 convent. As he sat in the boat, the ferry- 
 man said to him, — 
 
 " Perhaps some maiden over there is be- 
 trothed to you ? 11 
 
 Pranken did not reply, but he gave the 
 I ferryman a whole handful of money. His 
 heart throbbing with bliss, Pranken rushed 
 up the bank, and immediately sent a tele- 
 gram* to his sister. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 HERCULES IN A HAIR-DRESSER'S SHOP. 
 
 The telegraphist was very much aston- 
 ished, but did not dare to express his sur- 
 prise, when the handsome, noble young 
 man, with the polished exterior and the un- 
 assuming air, through which there was 
 plainly discernible a feeling of condescen- 
 sion towards a public* officer, handed in a 
 telegram mysteriously worded, and running 
 thus : — 
 
 " God be praised ! a green twig from the 
 island of felicity. New genealogical tree. 
 Heavenly manna. Endless possessions. 
 A consecrated one, new-born. 
 
 " Otto von Pranken." 
 
 Pranken walked about in the tasteful, 
 well-arranged grounds of the station, 
 looked up to the mountains, down to the 
 river, to the island ; the whole world was 
 as if freshly created to him, he seemed to 
 himself in a new earth ; a veil was removed 
 from everything, and all was ravishingly 
 beautiful. In a copse, where no one saw 
 him, he knelt down ; and while he knelt he 
 felt inexpressibly happy, and as if he never 
 wished to rise again. He heard a noise in 
 his vicinity, stood upright, and brushed his 
 knees carefully. It was nothing but a 
 beggar that disturbed him. Without wait- 
 ing to be spoken to, Pranken gave him a 
 considerable sum of money, and after the 
 beggar had gone away, he called him back 
 and gave him as much again. 
 
 The air was loaded with aromatic fra- 
 grance, intermingled with that delicate res- 
 inous perfume that comes from the opening 
 buds ; innumerable rose-buds hung from 
 the trellises, as if waiting for the word to 
 open ; from the steep wall of rock, where a 
 
ft 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 117 
 
 passage for the railroad had been cut, a 
 cuckoo called, and ■ thousands of birds 
 joined in with their song. The whole 
 world was full of blossoming fragrance and 
 musio of birds, — all was redeemed, ran- 
 somed, blessed. 
 
 The people at the station thought that the 
 young man who was thus walking to and 
 fro, sometimes hurrying, sometimes stand- 
 ing still, sometimes looking up, and then 
 casting his eyes to the ground, must be 
 expecting a relative by the next train ; but 
 Pranken was waiting for no person and no 
 thing. What could there be in the world 
 to come to him ? He had everything. 
 He could not conceive how he could stay 
 here, and Manna be over there ; no moment 
 ought to pass away without their being 
 together, one, inseparable. 
 
 A finch now flew away from the tree 
 beneath which he was standing; it flew 
 over the river to the island. Ah! could I 
 also fly over and look at her and greet her 
 from the tree, and at evening fly to her 
 window-sill, and look upon her until she 
 went to sleep, and in the morning when she 
 awoke ! 
 
 All the feelings that ever moved the 
 heart of youth now took possession of 
 Pranken, and he was frightened at himself, 
 when that demon of vanity and self-conceit, 
 whose growth he had so fostered within 
 him, whispered in his ear, Thou art a noble, 
 enthusiastic youth ! All great qualities are 
 thine ! He now hated this evil spirit, and 
 he found means of driving him out. 
 
 He sat in a retired arbor and read in 
 Thomas a Kempis. He read the admoni- 
 tion : " Learn to rule thyself, and then thou 
 canst rule the things of the world*." Pran- 
 ken had, until now, regarded life as a light 
 jest, not worth the trouble, indeed, of 
 attempting to do any thing with it. He 
 had that contemptuous tone with which one 
 orders a poodle to jump over a stick, and 
 he looked up amazed as to what this should 
 mean. 
 
 Is it possible that there is such a way of 
 thinking as this, even in those who belong 
 to the church ? "In my father's house are 
 many mansions, and perhaps, it is very well 
 to show for once to the children of the 
 world, that they are not the sole possessors 
 of the right to sport freely with the world. 1 ' 
 
 All was to Pranken more and more amaz- 
 ing, more and more enigmatical, and, at the 
 same time, more and more illuminated. If 
 the buds there upon the hedge could tell, 
 in the moment when they open, how the 
 light thrills through them, it would be like 
 what was now taking place in the soul of 
 this young man. And if a man, who had 
 
 heard the old legend without believing it, 
 should find down there in the river the 
 Niebelungen treasure, the, old, beautiful, 
 splendid, rare and solid jewelry — he would 
 feel as Pranken did when he really discov- 
 ered, for the first time, the Christian doc- 
 trine in this searching and impressive little 
 book. All is here so comprehensive, ex- 
 pressing thine own inner conflicting desires, 
 and expressing them with such tenderness, 
 and disclosing their secret springs, and 
 giving too, the directions how thou canst 
 lay aside what is wrong, and make the true 
 thine own. 
 
 Pranken sat there a long time in a rev- 
 erie ; railway trains came, railway trains 
 went ; boats went up and down the river, 
 but Pranken heard and saw all as if it were 
 only a dream. The noon-day bell at the 
 convent first aroused him. He went to the 
 inn. 
 
 He met here a comrade, who was making 
 a wedding tour with his young bride. 
 Pranken was warmly welcomed ; they were 
 very glad to meet him. Pranken must join 
 a water-party on an excursion to the moun- 
 tains, after dinner ; but he cfeclined, he knew 
 not why. - But he looked at the young 
 bride and bridegroom with gleaming eyes ; 
 so will it be, — so will it be, when he 
 journeys with Manna ! It thrilled him with 
 ecstasy to think that he should be alone 
 with her, alone out in the wide world ! 
 Why can he not, even now, go for her and 
 bring her out ? He promised to himself to 
 learn patience. 
 
 They were very merry at dinner-time, 
 and Pranken was delighted that he could 
 still crack his old jokes ; his comrade 
 should not have a fine story to tell at the 
 military-club, its members should not have 
 a chance to jeer ; and the stout Kannen- 
 berg should not bet a flask of Canary that 
 this pious mood was only one of Pranken's 
 whims. Pranken brought out his witti- 
 cisms as if he had learned them by rote, 
 and it seemed to him a century ago, almost 
 as if it had . been in a previous state of ex- 
 istence, that there had been such a thing as 
 appearing on parade. 
 
 At table, Pranken heard accidentally that, 
 on the next day, a pilgrimage was to leave 
 the town near by with great pomp. The 
 new-married couple took counsel whether 
 they should not be spectators of the display at 
 the place of pilgrimage ; they would decide 
 in the evening. 
 
 After Pranken had accompanied them to 
 the boat, he went to the station, and took 
 a ticket for town ; he was glad to be able to 
 be in time for the evening service at the 
 cathedral. He reached the town and 
 
118 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 smiled compassionately, when obliging ser- 
 vants in the streets offered themselves as 
 guides to places of amusements ; he smiled 
 compassionately, when a servant in the 
 church asked the " gracious gentleman," 
 whether he should show him everything. 
 Pranken knelt among the worshippers. 
 
 Refreshed, and satisfied with himself, he 
 left the church. He strolled through the 
 town, and stood long before a hair-dresser's 
 shop. No one would have thought, and 
 Otto von Pranken least of all, that there 
 was a battle-field destined for him, not out- 
 side in the wild contest of arms, but before 
 a great window filled with various perfumes, 
 false hair for men and women, with dolls' 
 heads, whose glass eyes stared under the 
 artificial brows and lashes. Over the door 
 was printed in golden letters, "Hair-dress- 
 ing and shaving done here." Is it not 
 laughable that a battle is to be fought here ? 
 so far from being laughable, it is serious, 
 bitter, earnest. 
 
 Pranken had made a heroic resolve to 
 take part in the pilgrimage, and indeed he 
 wanted to unite himself with the pilgrims in 
 a humble manner, and join in their prayers 
 and mortifications. And in the meanwhile, 
 not to attract attention, and all alone, to 
 allow the change to proceed silently in him- 
 self, it seemed expedient, first to get rid of 
 his very noticeable whiskers and mous- 
 taches ; and it was very important to make 
 recognition difficult, for he feared that some 
 one might meet him and change his deter- 
 mination, and other people be guilty of the 
 sin of mockery. And he was especially 
 troubled in regard to the young married 
 couple, who wished to make the pilgrimage. 
 He would be one of the sights of their 
 journey which they could talk of on their 
 return home. And, besides, how many 
 might be seduced into impiety by laughing 
 over it, and they certainly would laugh at 
 Otto von Pranken's being among the pil- 
 grims ! Therefore, for your own sake, and 
 that of others, you must be disguised some- 
 what. 
 
 So with heroic resolution — and it was 
 certainly heroic, for who would be willing 
 to deprive himself of an ornament so highly 
 prized and not to be replaced at pleasure ? — 
 Pranken entered the fragrant shop, sat 
 down in an arm-chair, and looked at his 
 beard and moustache reflected in a great 
 mirror hanging opposite. His eyes almost 
 overflowed. A great white apron, a true 
 sacrificial mantle for the sacrificial lamb, 
 was thrown over him, and an exceedingly 
 polite young man, who had no suspicion 
 of the priestly office assigned to him, 
 asked, — 
 
 "Does the gracious gentleman wish to 
 be shaved, or to be curled ? " 
 
 "Curled," answered Pranken, quick as 
 lightning, for it came to him like an in- 
 spiration, that he would mingle with the 
 pilgrims curled and elegantly dressed ; this 
 would be a fuller and deeper confession, 
 and it would bring more honor to the 
 sanctuaries, if it were /seen that a man of 
 rank, evidently a military officer, offered to 
 them his veneration. 
 
 Finally, with hair nicely dressed, Pran- 
 ken went out of the shop, and in all the 
 large windows of all the stores he passed, 
 he looked not without satisfaction at his 
 rescued treasure, — his beard and mous- 
 tache. 
 
 He smiled victoriously upon the world. 
 
 Pranken knew of an inn, in the town, 
 which was the resort of the elite of the no- 
 bility, and he went there hoping to find 
 some companion of equal rank, and with 
 the firm determination to induce him to go 
 on the pilgrimage with him. He found no, 
 one whom he knew, and he could not re- 
 main in the public parlor, for he saw there, 
 on entering, a famous actress, who was ful- 
 filling here a star engagement, and whom 
 he had formerly known ; he pretended not 
 to recognize her and withdrew to his own 
 room. 
 
 The morning came ; the bells rang for the 
 pilgrims to take their departure. Pranken 
 formed a weighty resolve. Nothing hasty ! 
 he said to himself. Make no show ! Give 
 the world no opportunity for misconstruc- 
 tion ! One has a duty to perform to the 
 world and to the past ! One must be put- 
 ting off the old man, by degrees, and let 
 the new man be unfolded. 
 
 From the window of the inn Pranken saw 
 the pilgrims go forth, as he puffed clouds 
 of smoke from his cigar. Then he went to 
 the station, bought a ticket, and returned 
 to Wolfsgarten. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 BITTER ALMONDS. 
 
 In the country where the tankard rules, 
 the ladies assemble to take coffee, and wine 
 and coffee are equal in this respect, that 
 they can be had at all seasons of the year. 
 In spring and summer, it is pleasant to drink 
 them on a gentle eminence, in a shady 
 arbor where there is a fine view of the 
 country around ; in autumn and winter, in 
 comfortable rooms furnished with an abund- 
 ance of sofa-cushions, embroidered in pat- 
 terns of parrots or fat woolly dogs. 
 
 The coffee-party has the advantage of 
 being given in succession by various per- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 119 
 
 sons, and as the pint of wine is not strictly 
 a pint, but can be increased at pleasure, so 
 coffee is only a modest expression for the 
 May-bowls and fruits of the culinary art 
 which follow it ; and a hostess who wishes 
 to do something surpassing the rest sends 
 to the great city for ice, to be brought over 
 the railroad. 
 
 The Justice's wife led off in the spring 
 coffee-parties. The little garden behind 
 the house was very pleasant, where the 
 lilacs were blooming in ail their glory, but 
 the surrounding houses overlooked it, and 
 it was better to have the party in the best 
 parlor opening upon the balcony. 
 
 The rustling chintz covers were taken 
 off the sofa-cushions. The invitations were 
 sent out, among the rest to the Countess 
 Wolfsgarten, who had returned an accept- 
 ance ; but the regular course of proceeding 
 was, that about an hour before the ap- 
 pointed time, a delicately scented, prettily 
 written note should arrive, in which Frau 
 Bella expressed her regret that an unfortu- 
 nate head-ache would deprive her of the 
 long anticipated pleasure of meeting the 
 highly respected wife of the Justice, and 
 her much esteemed company. 
 
 To-day, contrary to all expectation, the 
 Countess had come herself, and had indeed 
 arrived before any of the rest of the party, 
 which was not exactly the thing in fashion- 
 able society. 
 
 The Justice's wife sent Lina directly into 
 the state parlor to place one more chair, 
 for they had felt quite sure that the Countess 
 would not come. 
 
 "I expect my brother to day, he has 
 been down the Rhine," Frau Bella soon 
 said. 
 
 She did in fact wish to carry her brother 
 home from the town, that she might hear 
 more of Manna and the enigmatical tel- 
 egram ; but she had a second purpose in 
 view, and an opportunity of carrying it out 
 soon presented itself. 
 
 The Justice's wife complained that Cap- 
 tain and Doctor Dournay — " what is one to 
 call him — ? M 
 
 " Call him simply doctor." 
 
 That Doctor Dournay, then, had paid a 
 visit to the priest, to the major, and to the 
 physician. The Major's housekeeper had 
 told the beadle a great deal about him. But 
 very singularly, though he seemed to be a 
 man of excellent manners, he had neglected 
 the very central point of the town, which 
 was certainly the Justice's court. He had 
 certainly apologized very humbly when 
 he spent the night at the doctor's, and the 
 doctor's wife said that he was soon to re- 
 turn and enter Sonnenkamp's service with a 
 
 salary more than, double that of a Justice. 
 Herr von Pranken had done a very kind 
 thing in getting this position for the young 
 man, who, it was to be hoped, would show 
 himself worthy of his recommendation. 
 
 Bella nodded acquiescingly, and praised 
 the Justice's wife for acknowledging in so 
 friendly a manner the kindness which it 
 was a duty to show to an unfortunate man, 
 but added that she must certainly see the 
 danger also, that an untrustworthy man 
 could be injured in no way more than by 
 benefits, which served only to nourish ene- 
 mies, who lay in wait for the right moment 
 to show themselves in their true light. 
 
 The Justice's wife was delighted with the 
 manner in which this lady of acknowledged 
 intellect dressed up her own plain common- 
 sense so finely. She assented, and felt 
 much pleased with the idea, that, as soon 
 as one enjoyed personal intercourse with 
 the Countess Wolfsgarten, one could think 
 more clearly and understand everything bet- 
 ter. Both ladies smiled contentedly, and 
 each declared that the other was dressed 
 most becomingly and tastefully, though of 
 course with the acknowledgment that Frau 
 Bella was the most marked in this respect, 
 for to attempt to rival her would be folly. 
 
 Bella certainly looked very animated. 
 She spoke lightly — for the matter must 
 not be misrepresented — of the slight at- 
 tack of illness which the Count had had at 
 Villa Eden, when "Herr Dournay" who 
 had lifted him had behaved right bravely. 
 The Justice's wife launched out in praise of 
 the Count, and of the care which was taken 
 of his life. 
 
 Frau Bella led the conversation back, 
 and with cautious circumspection insinuated 
 that Eric had omitted a visit to the Justice, 
 because he felt a certain shyness of legal 
 tribunals, and still more of all faithful ser- 
 vants of the reigning king. 
 
 With considerable eagerness, the Jus- 
 tice's wife pressed for further information, 
 and under a promise of strict secrecy — 
 though, of course, the Justice must know 
 all — she was informed that people knew of 
 certain political declarations, even of printed 
 announcements in a foreign paper, or rather 
 a paper published beyond the boundary 
 line, which had induced the former Lieu- 
 tenant Dournay to ask for his discharge, 
 before it was given him without hii asking. 
 
 " Then why was the rank of captain 
 given him ? " asked the Justice's wife. 
 
 " You question with as much shrewdness 
 as the Justice himself," replied Bella. 
 
 She did not seem prepared for this in- 
 quiry, and only said that it was not for her 
 to wish to stand in the way of a poor young 
 
120 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 man's earning a living. Very likely it had 
 been done — at this point she seized the 
 hand of the Justice's wife and held it be- 
 tween her own, as if signifying that she was 
 entrusting a great secret to her charge — 
 very likely it had been done for the sake 
 of his mother, who had been a favorite 
 lady of honor to the dowager princess ; of 
 course the matter was kept as quiet as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 Bella tried to put on a pleased smile, and 
 to repress an expression of mild compassion, 
 when the Justice's wife said, — 
 
 " There my husband guessed right again. 
 As we were driving home from your recep- 
 tion — ah, what a pleasant, cheerful time 
 we had — my husband said to me and my 
 daughter, ' Children, I tell you, this Herr 
 Dournay is a dangerous man.' Oh, men are 
 always more keen-sighted, and know more 
 about each other than we women can ever 
 find out." 
 
 She seemed to be losing herself in general 
 reflections on mankind, which she liked to 
 make, saying that any one who lived over a 
 ground-floor full of legal documents took a 
 very gloomy view of men. 
 
 This did not seem to be what Bella 
 wanted to-day. She asked very carelessly, — 
 
 44 Has your husband spoken to Herr Son- 
 nenkamp of his very sagacious opinion that 
 this Herr Doctor Dournay is a dangerous 
 man ? " 
 
 44 It's true that would be proper," said 
 the Justice's wife. 44 Will you not tell my 
 husband, gracious lady, that he ought to 
 make his views known ? He doesn't heed 
 me, I'm sorry to say, but he is glad to do 
 anything for you." 
 
 44 Don't ask me," Bella replied. 44 You 
 must see that I cannot mix myself up in 
 this affair. My brother has a sort of re- 
 gard toward his former comrade although 
 they were not in the same regiment, and 
 my husband has taken a morbid, I mean en- 
 thusiastic fancy to the young man. You 
 are quite right ; your husband is bound — " 
 
 Bella did her work so securely, that she 
 felt sure that the Justice would go to Son- 
 nenkamp before evening, and Herr Dournay 
 might make the most of his confident bear- 
 ing somewhere else, for Bella wished, on 
 many accounts, that Eric should not be es- 
 tablished in the neighborhood ; he caused 
 her uneasinsss, almost pain indeed. As 
 she tapped one hand with the closed fan 
 which she held tightly grasped in the other, 
 she inwardly repeated the words of the Jus- 
 tice : This Dournay is a dangerous man. 
 
 The Justice's wife was a woman of demo- 
 cratic principles ; she was the daughter of 
 
 a Chief-Justice who had offered unbending 
 resistance at the time when Metternich 
 ruled Germany, and, besides, she had a com- 
 fortable property of her own, which helps 
 one to keep to liberal ideas. She felt a 
 sort of democratic pride in not yielding 
 anything to the nobility ; but she saw in 
 Frau Bella an amiable, highly intellectual 
 lady, and she submitted to her, without ac- 
 knowledging to herself that her submission 
 amounted to subserviency toward a coun- 
 tess. Bella was acute enough to see and 
 understand it all, and treated the Justice's 
 wife with that confidence which is shown 
 only to equals ; but she took care to be 
 more than usually amiable, that the Jus- 
 tice's wife might attribute her visit to some 
 other than the real object. 
 
 Lina entered the room, looking like a 
 charming little housekeeper in her blue 
 dress, and high-necked, white apron. Her 
 mother sent her away again very soon, as 
 the child must not be present if the gra- 
 cious lady had still any private matter to 
 speak of. 
 
 44 Your dear child has developed finely, 
 and she speaks very good French." 
 
 44 Thank you," said the mother." 44 1 
 don't know much of the young people of 
 the present day ; but Lina is still so slow, 
 there's nothing piquant about her, and she 
 is frightfully simple. Just think, the child 
 has formed a fancy — how she ever got 
 hold of such ideas in the convent, is a mys- 
 tery to me — but only imagine, she believes 
 that this Herr Captain Dournay has forced 
 himself in as Roland's tutor, only because he 
 is secretly in love with Fräulein Manna, 
 whom he saw at the convent." 
 
 Frau Bella pretended much surprise, and 
 heard the story of the meeting with Eric 
 again, but the Justice's wife soon led the 
 conversation back to the failure of all her 
 efforts to make Lina a wide-awake girl. 
 
 Frau Bella might have said to her, if she 
 had been disposed, You want to change 
 this child, who has no special talent or 
 beauty, from her genuineness and open- 
 ness ; you are continually teasing her to be 
 lively, arch, and merry, to sing and to 
 jump ! You want to turn your fair-com- 
 plexioned daughter with clear, light-blue 
 eyes, into a dark-haired maiden with flash- 
 ing brown eyes ! Frau Bella might have 
 said all this, but she did not. She pressed 
 her thin lips close together ; her nostrils 
 quivered ; she despised, at this moment, the 
 whole of mankind. She was spared the 
 necessity of saying anything, however, for 
 the ladies who were invited came in suc- 
 cessively. They were particularly glad to 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OST THE RHINE. 
 
 121 
 
 meet the Countess Wolfsgarten, and yet 
 every one was a little vexed that she could 
 not be the first in dress and appearance. 
 
 Ah, such a coffee-party of the fair sex ! 
 
 There are some things, institutions, and 
 arrangements, that have received a bad 
 name, and cannot get rid of it again : this 
 is the case with this fine institution of cof- 
 fee-drinking. As soon as any favorable 
 mention is made of it, every hearer and 
 reader is convinced that is only downright 
 irony, or a good-humored jest ; for it has 
 been settled, once for all, that this coffee- 
 drinking of the ladies is only a hoax, and a 
 pretence of kindly intercourse, with the 
 participants. And yet this institution is a 
 very excellent one, except when cards are 
 introduced, and they carry it so far as to 
 get up a regular gambling-party, as do the 
 ladies at the small capitals, who have a 
 handsome book with black morocco-bind- 
 ing, lettered on the back, **■ Hours of Med- 
 itation,' 1 but containing, inside, only blank 
 leaves on which to mark down the points, 
 and to enter the score. But that is only in 
 the smaller capitals ; here in our sociable 
 little town, civilization has not advanced 
 so far. Cards are not yet the book of sal- 
 vation from all the evil of ennui ; here they 
 rely upon their own resources, the best way 
 they can. And why should they not talk 
 of persons, and occasionally say something 
 pretty severe ? What do other people, 
 yes, even the men, in higher spheres, and 
 at the tankard ? Do they converse always 
 about abstractions ? 
 
 To be sure, there is talk here of town 
 news, and whoever takes no part in this, 
 holding himself aloof, does nothing for the 
 town, nothing for his neighbor. And these 
 ladies, who here have something to say 
 about the so-called higher dignitaries, as 
 well as the so-called inferior people, they 
 are" the same ladies who have established 
 benevolent reunions, and behave in a 
 strictly proper manner. So let us be pleas- 
 ant and well-disposed guests, without any 
 tendency to find fault, at this coffee-drinking 
 of the fair sex. 
 
 Here comes Frau White. She is called 
 Frau Coal behind her back, for she is the 
 wife of a wood and coal-dealer. She has 
 black locks and a dark complexion, which 
 looks as if she had never washed herself 
 thoroughly ; and since the good woman is 
 aware of her being nicknamed Mrs. Coal, 
 she always dresses herself in dead-white 
 colors, which are not very becoming to her 
 dark hair and complexion by bright day- 
 light, but by lamp-light she is very charm- 
 ing to look at. Unfortunately she has the 
 defect of squinting, and with so sweet an 
 
 expression, as if her eyes had been perma- 
 nently arrested in the midst of a killingly 
 affectionate glance. 
 
 Here is the wife of the cement-manufac- 
 turer, a tall and stately woman, never 
 laughing, always inexpressibly serious, as 
 if she carried about with her some great se- 
 cret ; she has no secret to impart, except 
 that she has nothing to say. 
 
 Here sits the handsome wife of the 
 school-director, a little too portly perhaps, 
 nicknamed the Lay-figure because she is 
 always dressed so finely ; she has a perpet- 
 ual smile upon her face, and one might 
 almost imagine that she would still smile 
 and show her beautiful teeth, even if she 
 were to be the bearer or hearer of the 
 tidings of death. 
 
 Here is the wife of the steamboat agent, 
 a very fine looking woman, the mother of 
 eleven children. The whole company are 
 quite provoked with the little, plump, good 
 woman, who never lets her cup stand on 
 the table, but holds it up in her left hand, 
 and repeatedly dips into it her biscuit, nod- 
 ding assent to every one's remark, and sel- 
 dom giving her own opinion, or, when she 
 does, speaking with her mouth so full, that 
 nobody understands her. 
 
 Here are the two Englishwomen who re- 
 side in the town ; they were plain citizens, 
 much beloved, without any title of lady, but 
 were truly lady-like in appearance, for the 
 reason that they needed no rank to set 
 them off. They passed their time at home , 
 did not depend upon visiting, and were like 
 their own island, which produces all that 
 man requires. Whenever the two ladies 
 went into society they were always fresh, 
 and were very cordially welcomed ; and the 
 amiable, awkward way in which they spoke 
 German, and made use of strange con- 
 structions, served to increase the general 
 kindliness. Bella was especially friendly 
 toward the Englishwomen. The ladies' 
 conversation was all intermingled together, 
 like the singing of birds in the woods. 
 Each one sings its own song, then polishes 
 its own bill, and has no concern about the 
 rest, — hardly hears them. Only two remarks 
 were generally listened to and repeated; 
 once, when Frau White made the happy 
 observation that one would be aware of 
 Count Clodwig's many badges of distinction, 
 even if he did not wear any, which the Jus- 
 tice's wife took occasion to report to Bella ; 
 and again, when they came upon the sub- 
 ject, no one could tell how, whether the 
 men's smoking was agreeable or disagree- 
 able, Frau Lay-fig»re said that her good 
 man often expressed the wish that he could 
 be passionately fond of smoking, so as to 
 
122 
 
 TBE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 wean himself from being so fond of her. 
 Frau Bella had that perpetual complaisant 
 smile which is so cold, and yet so tascinat- 
 ing. 
 
 The conversation only grazed Herr Son- 
 nenkamp lightly. It remained fixed upon 
 Eric, and why should it not ? Here in the 
 summer time, thousands frequent the little 
 town, and swarm on the road leading to the 
 old castle and to the other objects of in- 
 terest for sight-seers, but when had there 
 been a person who remained among them, 
 and such a noteworthy personage too ? 
 Erie was a strange bird who wanted to take 
 refuge in the mysterious house of Sonnen- 
 kamp ; they will do him no harm, ruffle not 
 one of his feathers, but each one wishes to 
 have her say concerning where he comes 
 from, and how he looks. 
 
 The Justice's wife remarked that she 
 would have liked to invite the Major to the 
 coffee-drinking, for he could tell the most 
 about the captain-doctor. 
 
 The ladies were busy, of course, with 
 their crochet, embroidery and sewing ; but 
 these are only make-believe labors, for one 
 must not seem to be wholly idle. 
 
 When they understood that Eric's mother 
 was a lady of unimpeachable nobility, each 
 one wanted to make out that she had per- 
 ceived that in him at once, it was something 
 that could not be concealed. Bella accord- 
 ed to this remark one of her most friendly 
 looks of general approval. 
 
 When the Justice himself now came, for 
 a little quarter of an hour, to join the com- 
 pany, Bella requested him to take a chair 
 by her ; she declared that they were very 
 happy in this harmless circle, and she de- 
 sired that no disturbing element should 
 ever enter, to have only a decomposing in- 
 fluence upon it. 
 
 The Justice looked at her with his good- 
 natured eyes, wholly at a loss to know what 
 she meant, and stroked his obstinate whis- 
 kers ; he could not imagine that this was in- 
 tended to prepare the way for what his wife 
 was to impart to him.. He excused himself 
 and soon went away ; his wife informed them 
 that Lina had joined the Liederkranz of 
 the town ; they were practising now for the 
 .great musical festival which was to be held 
 in the neighboring city, and to Lina would 
 undoubtedly be assigned a solo-piece. 
 
 Frau Bella spoke very advisingly, and at 
 the same time very discouragingly. She 
 expressed her dislike of musical festivals, 
 being convinced in her own mind that she 
 alone understands music, and that the mu- 
 sic which she fancies is the only genuine 
 music. In these days, hundreds of young 
 people of both sexes, of ordinary standing 
 
 in society, sing in the musical festivals an 
 oratorio of Handel, Haydn, Bach, and this 
 vexed Bella; these people are convinced 
 that they know something. If she had had 
 power, she would have Uad the police put a 
 stop to these meetings. For this reason, 
 Fran Bella had a special spite against the 
 oratorio, but she^only said, — " 1 have no 
 appreciation of it ; " and inasmuch as she 
 said, " I have no appreciation of it," this 
 ought to be ample evidence that there is 
 nothing in it to be appreciated. 
 
 She was exceedingly gracious and con- 
 descending. She said that she did not 
 question the merits of the German masters 
 in oratorio. The truth is, that it was ex- 
 tremely repugnant to her to have the Jus- 
 tice's wife, the wife of the school-director, 
 and the two daughters of the head-forester, 
 and even perhaps the tailor's and cobbler's 
 daughters, presuming to be interested in 
 high art, when not one of them could sound 
 a single true note. 
 
 Lina now acquired a new importance, for 
 there was a general expression of desire to 
 hear her sing. The English ladies asked 
 very pressingly for a German song, but 
 Lina, who usually was not backward, to-day 
 was not willing to comply. Her mother's 
 eyes flashed, but Frau Bella placed her 
 hand upon the arm of the angry mother, and 
 an unheard of event happened ; saying 
 that she did not blame Lina for not being 
 willing to begin to sing abruptly, without 
 any preparation, she arose, went to the 
 grand piano, preluded, and then played a 
 sonata of Mozart in mastei-ly style. All 
 were happy, and the Justice's house highly 
 exalted, for none could boast, except the 
 Castle Wolfsgarten and the castles of the 
 nobility, that Bella had ever touched a key 
 in any other than her own house. 
 
 Bella received overwhelming laudation, 
 but she rejected it, and in a half serious, 
 half contemptuous way, maintained that 
 every one who wore long dresses wanted to 
 play the piano. Bella was a genuine sister 
 of her brother ; she could be happy a whole 
 day if she succeeded in uttering one pointed 
 speech, and she took great delight now in 
 saying, — 
 
 " Every girl, now-a-days, thinks she must 
 learn to knit a musical stocking." 
 
 She continued to repeat these words, 
 musical stocking, in a measure of three- 
 fourths time. Every one laughed, the Eng- 
 lish ladies looked up in surprise, and Bella 
 was glad to explain to them what she meant 
 by these words, adding, — 
 
 " Yes, they knit a stocking out of notes, 
 and the great thing with them is, not to 
 drop a single stitch. I truly believe that 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 123 
 
 the good children consider the four move- 
 ments of the sonata to be the four parts of 
 the stocking ; the top is the first movement, 
 the leg is the adagio, the heel is the scherzo, 
 the toe is the finale. Only one who has a 
 real talent for it ought to be allowed to 
 learn music." 
 
 This was generally agreed to, and they 
 spoke of the amount of time spent upon the 
 piano in youth, and that after marriage it 
 was given up. 
 
 The Justice's wife had been appealed to, 
 and if there can be a higher heaven in 
 heaven itself, it was opened when Frau 
 Bella praised Lina's singing, which she had 
 heard, and requested that Lina might make 
 her a visit of some weeks, when she could, 
 perhaps, give her some instruction. The 
 glance which the Justice's wife cast to her 
 husband was inexpressibly joyful ; and how 
 delightful it is to have the ladies ear-wit- 
 nesses of all this ! It seemed to her that 
 she was very good-natured and very con- 
 descending, to be still friendly and affable 
 with the doctors wife, and also, indeed, 
 with Frau Coal and the merchants' wives. 
 
 Bella extolled now, in the warmest terms, 
 the delicious, spicy cakes which the Jus- 
 tice's wife knew how to make so excellently 
 well ; she would like to know the ingre- 
 dients. The Justice's wife said that she 
 had a particular way of giving them their 
 flavor by putting into them a certain quan- 
 tity of bitter almonds ; and she promised to 
 write out the receipt for her, but she re- 
 solved in her own mind never to remember 
 to do it. 
 
 They had hardly tasted of the May-bowl, 
 and declared that no one else knew how to 
 mix it so well, before the Justice was in- 
 formed that Herr von Pranken had arrived, 
 i The Justice went down, his wife detained 
 Bella, and Lina, looking out of the window, 
 saw that Pranken decidedly refused to come 
 in for a moment. Bella now drove away, 
 after taking a very hasty leave. 
 
 When she had gone, it seemed to all a* 
 
 I if the court had withdrawn ; they drew near 
 to each other in a more confidential way, 
 and had for the first time a really easy and 
 home-like feeling. 
 
 The English ladies were the first to take 
 their departure ; the rest would not be less 
 genteel than they, and in a short time the 
 parents and the child were by themselves. 
 
 The wife took her husband into an ad- 
 joining room, and impressed upon him very 
 earnestly, that it was the duty of a Justice 
 to keep, his district clean. 
 
 The Justice was faithful in his office, and 
 whoever spoke of him would always affirm 
 that he was the best man in the world. 
 But he had no particular zeal for his., call- 
 ing ; he was in the habit of saying, — Why 
 am I mixed up with the affairs of other 
 people? If I were a man of property, I 
 would have nothing to do with the quarrels 
 of other persons, but live quietly and con- 
 tentedly to myself. But inasmuch as he 
 had been inducted into the office, he per- 
 formed its duties with fidelity. He was 
 very reluctant to come to the determination 
 to interfere in the matter of Eric, and he 
 consented only when his wife told him in 
 so many words, that the countess Bella had 
 expressed the wish that he should. 
 
 They had come to the best understand- 
 ing, when suddenly a slam, crash, and 
 shriek were heard. Lina had let fall a 
 whole tray full of cups. 
 
 The Justice's wife could not give a more 
 satisfactory evidence of her serene content, 
 than by saying, as she did, to Lina, — 
 
 " Be quiet, dear child. The mischief is 
 done; it's of no sort of account. Cheer up, 
 you've looked, so blooming, and now you're 
 so pale. I could almost thank God for 
 sending us this trifling mishap, for in every 
 joy there must be some little sorrow inter- 
 mingled." 
 
 Lina was quiet, for she could not tell 
 what she was thinking of when the coffee- 
 tray fell out of her hands. 
 
124 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE WORLD-SOUL. 
 
 44 Why did you not look in, for a moment, 
 upon the worthy people? " asked Bella of 
 her brother, after they had both taken their 
 seats in the carriage. 
 
 Whenever she came from a company 
 where she had been amiable, this mood con- 
 tinued awhile, and she would look smilingly 
 into the air, then smilingly upon the furni- 
 ture around ; it was so now. There was in 
 her the dying echo of a pleasant and cheer- 
 ful frame of mind, but her brother came out 
 of an entirely remote world, having spoken 
 to-day with no one, — who would have 
 thought it of him ? — but his own soul, 
 or more properly, Manna's soul. 
 
 " Ah! don't speak to me of the world," 
 he said; 44 I wish to forget it, and that it 
 should also forget me. I know it well, all 
 hollow, waste, wilted, mere puppet-show. 
 If you have been helping the puppets dance 
 there awhile, you can lay them away again 
 in the closet of forgetfulness." 
 
 " You seem rather low-spirited," said 
 Bella, placing her Land upon her brother's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Low-spirited ! that's another catch- 
 word ! How often have I heard it used, 
 and used it myself! What is meant by low- 
 spirited ? nothing. I have been knocked 
 in pieces, and newly put together again. 
 Ah, sister, a miracle has been wrought in 
 me, and all miracles are now clear to me. 
 Ah ! I may come back to the words of the 
 world, but I do not see how." 
 
 " Excellent ! I congratulate you ; you seem 
 to have really fallen in love." 
 
 44 Fallen in love ! For God's sake, don't 
 say that; I am consecrated, sanctified. I 
 am yet such a poor, timorous, wretched 
 child of the world, that I am ashamed to 
 make my confession even to you, my only 
 sister. Ah ! I could never have believed 
 that I should feel such emotion — I don't 
 know what to call it — exaltation, such rap- 
 ture thrilling every nerve. O sister, what 
 a maiden ! " 
 
 44 It is not true," said Bella, leaning her 
 head back against the soft lining of the car- 
 riage, 44 it not true that we women are the 
 enigma of the world ; you men are far more 
 so. Over you, over Otto von Pranken, the 
 ballet connoisseur, has come such a roman- 
 tic feeling as this! But beautiful, excellent, 
 the mightiest power, is the power of illu- 
 sion." 
 
 Pranken was silent ; he heard Bella's words 
 as if they were uttered in a past state of ex- 
 istence. When, where, did they speak and 
 think of the ballet? And yet, at these 
 
 words there came datycing before his mem- 
 ory merry, aerial, short-dressed, roguish, 
 smiling forms. His heart thumped like a 
 hammer against the book, the book placed 
 there in his breast-pocket. He was about 
 to tell his sister that for several days he had 
 no longer known who he was ; that he was 
 obliged often to recall to mind his own name, 
 what he had wished, and what he still wished ; 
 that he went like one intoxicated through 
 the world, which was only a flitting by of 
 passing shadows ; here were swiftly darting 
 railway-trains, there towns and castles re- 
 flected in the river: all were fleeting shad- 
 ows which would soon be gone, while only 
 the soul had real being, the soul alone. 
 
 Such had been the influence of Thomas a 
 Kempis, so had he read the words on which 
 Manna's dark-brown eye had rested. All 
 this passed through his mind ; he could not 
 make his sister comprehend the transforma- 
 tion, he could hardly comprehend it himself. 
 He came to the conclusion to keep it all to 
 himself; and changing his tone, with great 
 self-command, he said smiling: — 
 
 44 Yes, Bella, love has a sort of sanctify- 
 ing power, if the word is allowable." 
 
 Bella told him in a bantering way, that he 
 uttered this like a Protestant candidate for 
 the ministry, who is making a declaration of 
 love in the parsonage arbor to the minis- 
 ter's blonde little daughter, clad in rose- 
 colored calico. She looked upon it, how- 
 ever, as an excellent, very commendable 
 guaranty of his feelings, that lie had declined, 
 in his present state of mind, to enter the 
 Justice's house ; she praised his intention of 
 breaking off now his flirtation with Lina. 
 
 Otto nodded, with a feeling of shame ; 
 and he began now to speak of Manna, in 
 so gentle a tone, and in such serious earn- 
 estness, that Bella was more and more 
 amazed. She let him go on without inter- 
 ruption, and, clasping together the fingers of 
 her right and left hand, she said to herself in 
 a low tone : — 
 
 44 Nut-brown eyes seven times, gazelle 
 three times, glorious beyond all count." 
 
 They drove through a little, fragrant 
 pine-wood, and it seemed to Pranken as if 
 this perfumed air from without, and that 
 from the book in his bosom, enveloped him, 
 enwrapped him in its sweet odors, and 
 elevated him above everything. He said, 
 looking fixedly before him : — 
 
 44 Since our great-uncle, the Archbishop 
 Hubert, no one of our family has entered 
 the service of the church ; I shall — " 
 
 44 You?" 
 
 44 1 shall," continued Pranken, 44 dedicate 
 my second son to the church." 
 
 It appeared exceedingly comical, and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 125 
 
 yet Pranken said it with the deepest serious- 
 ness, while leaning comfortably against the 
 back of the carriage, and puffing thick clouds 
 of smoke in quick succession from the cigar 
 in his mouth. 
 
 Bella, who always had some direct reply 
 or some apposite remark to make in contin- 
 uation, now said nothing, and Otto, who 
 Tound it very hard to change the tone of 
 conversation, seemed to himself to be under 
 a spell. He, the merry one, he, always so 
 free and easy, was reduced to the level of 
 some intrusive swaggerer in a convivial 
 company, who had pretended to be a boon- 
 companion, and must drink and drink, 
 whether he relished it or not. 
 
 " I should like to give you one piece of 
 advice, 11 said Bella at last. 
 
 " I should like to hear it. 11 
 
 " Otto, I believe that your feeling is gen- 
 uine, and I will also believe that it will last ; 
 but, for heaven's sake, don't let anything of 
 it be perceived, for it will be considered 
 hypocrisy, and the abject submission of a 
 suitor, to win by this means this pious, 
 wealthy heiress. Therefore, for the sake of 
 your own honor, for the sake of your posi- 
 tion, — I pass by every other consideration, 
 — keep all these extravagances under safe 
 lock and key. Otto, it is not my mouth 
 that speaks, I am but the mouth-piece of the 
 world : lock up all these heavenly sensations. 
 Forgive me if I have not used the right 
 word ; I can think now of no other. In 
 short, be the same as you were before you 
 took this journey, at least in presence of the 
 world. Are you offended with me ? Your 
 features are so painfully contracted. 11 
 
 " O, no, you are shrewd and kind, and I 
 will do as you say." 
 
 As if a new stop had been drawn out, 
 Pranken immediately asked : — 
 
 " What's the state of things at the Villa? 
 Is the All-wise, the great World-soul, still 
 there ? 11 
 
 "You mean, perhaps, your friend? 11 
 Bella could not refrain from bantering her 
 brother. 
 
 " My friend ? He never was my friend, 
 and I never called him so. I have allowed 
 myself to be bamboozled only through pity. 
 It is a long-standing trait in our family, that 
 we are not able to see anyone in misfortune, 
 and I, when I help an unfortunate one, come 
 readily into a more intimate relation with 
 him than is natural and proper. If one 
 wishes to rescue a man from drowning, one 
 must grasp him in his arms and to his heart, 
 but this does not make him our bosom- 
 friend. 11 
 
 Here was again the flippant, galloping 
 style of speaking, but there was a depth of 
 
 thought in the illustration derived from the 
 meditations of the previous days. 
 
 Bella handed her brother a note which 
 Fräulein Perini had given her for him. 
 Pranken broke the seal and read it; his 
 countenance became cheerful. He put the 
 letter in his breast-pocket, but as it did not 
 seem to suit the neighborhood of Thomas a 
 Kempis, he took it out again, and put it in 
 another pocket. Then he folded his arms 
 over his breast, and looked peacefully and 
 serenely before him. 
 
 " Might I be permitted to read Fräulein 
 PerinPs note ? 11 said Bella, extending her 
 hand. 
 
 Otto took it out, hastily ran through it 
 again, and handed it to his sister. It con- 
 tained the information that Eric had gone 
 away, and that he had held a secret inter- 
 view with Frau Ceres ; the details must be 
 given by word of mouth. 
 
 Otto said that he wanted, some time or 
 other, an answer to this riddle. 
 
 " The riddle is solved for me, 11 said Bella 
 frxultingly. " Lina, the Justice^ daughter 
 — it just occurs to me that Egmon^s Clara 
 had no surname, needed none — well, Lina, 
 the Justice's daughter, has declared to all 
 the world, that the Captain World-soul was 
 with her at the convent where Manna is, and 
 without saying a word about it, he gets him- 
 self introduced by you, the next day, to her 
 father. You then, as well as the rest of us, 
 have been taken in by this loftily sublime 
 World-soul. 11 
 
 Pranken drew a long breath, doubled up 
 his fist, and then made a repelling motion 
 with his hand. Bella imparted the further 
 information that she had seen to it, at the 
 coffee-party, that the World-soul — this word 
 seemed to her just the one to designate 
 Eric — should be obliged to seek another 
 abiding place ; the Justice would give the 
 finishing stroke to him. Bella perceived, 
 to her amazement, that Otto did not agree 
 with her in this method of proceeding. It 
 was entirely unworthy of the higher life — he 
 did not explain whether he meant the higher 
 social or spiritual life — to intrigue in this 
 way against a poor deceitful wretch ; he 
 would much rather go openly to work, and 
 directly enlighten Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Bella was in very good spirits, and took it 
 in good part. She began with saying, that 
 it was in the highest degree contemptible to 
 make such a stir about the appointment of a 
 private tutor, a personage that must always 
 play a subordinate part, however fine may 
 be his appearance. She advised her broth- 
 er, in the mean while, not to let the Justice 
 be beforehand with him if he himself wanted 
 to have credit in the matter. 
 
126 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Otto declared his intent to visit Herr 
 Sonnenkamp the next day, and then to cut 
 off Dournay's secret threads. But he let 
 the next day, and yet another, pass by, with- 
 out going to the villa. If other tools and 
 other hands did the work of annihilation, so 
 much the better. The Justice should have 
 time to carry out his design. Otto read 
 Thomas a Kempis, to see if there was not 
 some direction given for such a case ; he 
 found none. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 SKILFUL STRATEGY. 
 
 On the third day after his return, Pran- 
 ken set out for the villa. He stopped at the 
 Justice's, for he wanted to know what he 
 had done. But the Justice said, modestly 
 as well as wisely, that he did not think it 
 fitting to take any step before speaking 
 with Herr von Pranken, who had recom- 
 mended his friend to the house ; he was 
 ready, however, to drive with Herr von 
 Pranken to Villa Eden. 
 
 Pranken bowed his thanks. He must 
 then himself take a part in the affair. He 
 did not decline the offer of the Justice, per- 
 haps the pedantic little man might serve as 
 a reconnoitering party, to find out where, 
 and in what condition, the enemy was. 
 
 In his new frame of mind, Pranken was 
 not inclined to enter into any intrigue, and 
 he said to himself that this was nothing of 
 that sort ; but strategy was always permissi- 
 ble, even required. One must lay hold of 
 the enemy wherever and howsoever he can. 
 Pranken drew himself up erect, and laid 
 down the precise method of proceeding : he 
 would pretend to apologise for Eric, in or- 
 der to help the Justice accomplish his ob- 
 ject more directly. Ho. was, again, the 
 spirited, confident, captain of the horse- 
 guards leaping the barriers. 
 
 The Justice requested that he would see 
 the ladies, while he got ready for the drive. 
 He had not yet shaved. The good Justice 
 lived all the year round in violation of the 
 law ; every day his mustaches were liable to 
 fell a sacrifice to the stringent regulation of 
 the Prince, that the officers of the civil ser- 
 vice should not wear a moustache. He gave 
 as an excuse for wearing it his suffering 
 from tooth-ache, but the real reason was, 
 that he wanted to hide the loss of his teeth. 
 
 Pranken went up stairs. The Justice's 
 wife welcomed him, and could not find 
 words strong enough to describe her rap- 
 turous admiration of Bella, and the regret of 
 the whole company that Herr von Pranken 
 had not come in for a moment. 
 
 " Might one be allowed to ask where you 
 
 have been ? n enquired the wife of the Jus- 
 tice. 
 
 ** I have been to see a dear friend on the 
 lower Rhine. 11 
 
 44 Might one ask the name of the friend ? " 
 
 " Herr von Kempen.' 1 
 
 She congratulated Pranken on having 
 such intimate friends ; if they could be al- 
 ways worthy of his friendship. The con- 
 versation might naturally, at this point, 
 have brought in Eric, but Pranken refrain- 
 ed, and asked after Fräulein Lina. The 
 mother said that her child was learning to 
 cook, which every good housewife ought to 
 be able to do ; only it was to be regretted 
 that there were no cooks fit to give any in- 
 struction. Pranken expressed himself in 
 praise of this proceeding, and spoke of the 
 demoralised condition of service, for which 
 they had to thank the revolutionists, who 
 undermined all fidelity and all belief. 
 
 The lady considered this very true, and 
 was again on the point of referring to Eric, 
 when luckily the Justice entered. He had 
 put on his official dress, and his sword, 
 making an almost ridiculous appearance, 
 but Pranken was highly delighted at this re- 
 spect for the occasion. They drove togeth- 
 er to the villa. When Pranken left the 
 Justice's house, he twirled his mustaches, 
 in a most serene state of self-satisfaction 
 and content. He is still honorable in the 
 highest degree, shamefully good would 
 many of his comrades call it, so to spare 
 the girl. With this feeling of exemplary 
 virtue — and it has a fine relish — he was 
 extremely amiable, and full of elasticity, 
 feeling convinced that he was, every in- 
 stant, a benefactor of the family, and that 
 at no small sacrifice on his own part. 
 
 Lina looked at them from the servant's 
 room near the kitchen, as they drove off; 
 she stood behind the flowers in fall bloom 
 upon the window-seat, and, as she inhaled 
 the fragrance of a new-blown monthly rose, 
 a fragrance not less sweet breathed through 
 her soul. When she could no longer see 
 the carriage in which her father sat with 
 the baron, she hastened to the best room, 
 opened the piano, and sang, with clear voice 
 and ardent expression, love-songs to the 
 world in general. Her mother came in, 
 with her hair in disorder, and considered it 
 wholly incomprehensible that Lina should 
 be singing, while two pots out there in the 
 kitchen were boiling over. 
 
 4 ' You'll never be anything but an igno- 
 ramus ; except a little bit of language you 
 learned there, the convent has only made 
 you simpler than ever." 
 
 Lina went into the kitchen again, and 
 stood before the hearth, lost in reverie. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 She would like to have heard what her 
 father and Pranken had to say to one 
 another. 
 
 Their conversation was very constrained. 
 Pranken praised the Justice for his zeal in 
 keeping his district pure ; the Justice com- 
 plained that he had, in this case, no overt 
 acts to proceed upon, only a supposed dan- 
 gerous tendency. He understood how to 
 draw Pranken out, and the latter narrated 
 many charges, of course wholly unjust, an 
 appearance of treason among others, which 
 had been brought against Eric. He prayed 
 him, however, tb spare the poor, young 
 man to whom the Prince himself had been 
 merciful, and he thanked the Justice for 
 neutralizing the effects of the impulse, by 
 which he himself had been violently carried 
 away. The Justice did not know exactly 
 what course he ought to take, and he was 
 terrified when they came in sight of the 
 villa. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 A SUBSTITUTE. 
 
 Roland had gone to sleep with anger in 
 his heart, on the evening of the parting, and 
 he awoke in sorrow. It seemed impossible 
 that Eric could have left him, and so strong 
 was his faith in the bond between them, that 
 he wished to go to Eric'3 room to ask for- 
 giveness for having dreamed ' such evil 
 things of him. But it was all true. He 
 went to the room ; it was empty, with only 
 the doctor's diploma lying upon the table, a 
 sign that it had not been all a dream. 
 
 Roland was not to remain long alone ; he 
 was summoned to his father. 
 
 His father introduced him to a man of 
 gentlemanly bearing, who spoke only in 
 French and somewhat broken German. 
 This agreeable-looking young man, the 
 Chevalier de Canne by name, was from 
 French Switzerland, and came warmly re- 
 commended by a banker in the capital, who 
 did not himself know the fountain-head of 
 the stream which had brought the man to 
 him, for it was all Fraulein Perini's work. 
 
 Fräulein Perini was never seen to send 
 her letters by post, for they went through 
 the hands of the priest, but her relations 
 with the French clergy were such, that, by 
 safe mediation, a lay-püpil who could be 
 depended on was called to the position in 
 Sonnenkamp's household. Sonnenkarnp's 
 prejudices against such a connection were 
 well known, and it was carefully concealed. 
 
 By his modest and dignified bearing the 
 Chevalier knew how to win the favor of the 
 whole household, not excepting Herr Son- 
 nenkamp. In contrast with Eric, he had 
 
 127 
 
 about him something impersonal, so to 
 speak; never obtruding any peculiar ex- 
 pression of his own special views, skilfully 
 agreeing with everything, and succeeding, 
 without flattery, in giving back each per- 
 son's own words in such a way that they 
 seemed to 'the speaker remarkably signifi- 
 cant and excellent. He was able so to 
 illustrate and interpret even the few words 
 which Frau Ceres uttered, that one would 
 believe he had long known the lady ; he 
 was besides especially welcome to Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, from having a thorough knowl- 
 edge of botany. With Fräulein Perini, he 
 said grace before dinner, with so modest 
 and elegant an air that it only added to the 
 attractiveness of his appearance. Every- 
 one was charmed except Roland, who, 
 without knowing why, was constantly com- 
 paring the Chevalier with Eric. For the 
 first time, he begged his father to send him 
 to some school, no matter what one, and 
 promised to be perfectly tractable ; his fa- 
 ther would not yield to his desire, but de- 
 clared instead that Roland was very fortun- 
 ate to have such a tutor found for him. 
 
 Roland could not complain that the Chev- 
 alier made his studies a burden to him, but 
 he could not put Eric out of his thoughts. 
 He had already thrice written to him di- 
 rectly, letters like the lament of a maiden 
 who tells her lover bow she is urged to a 
 loveless marriage, and implores him to 
 come to her. He begged Eric, who knew 
 nothing of his angry mood, to forgive him 
 for having fallen away from his allegiance 
 for a moment ; he clung to the hope that his 
 father, who always spoke well of Eric, 
 would still summon him. 
 
 So wrote Roland; he did not send the 
 letters, but carelessly left them lying open, 
 and the Chevalier took copies, which Fräu- 
 lein Perini received. 
 
 Eric had in Joseph a firm ally in the 
 family. He asked Roland continually 
 when Eric would return, told him much of 
 his parents and his grandfather, and also 
 of a brother who was just Roland's own 
 age. This gave new intensity to the long- 
 ing after Eric, for Roland thought he 
 would bring his brother with him, and then 
 he would also have a brother and comrade. 
 
 Several days had passed thus; Roland 
 was sitting on a camp-stool, near the road, 
 where there was a fine view of the park, 
 from which the tower of the castle seemed 
 to spring up as a natural growth. Roland 
 was drawing, and the Chevalier, who was 
 a master in the art, sat near him. Roland 
 soon saw that he had heretofore received 
 too much assistance ; he was now really 
 painstaking and earnest. The Chevalier 
 
128 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 drew whatever Roland was drawing, and, 
 from time to time, they eompared their 
 work. His teacher had advised him to 
 make drawings of all the views of the castle 
 before it was rebuilt, and Roland had suc- 
 ceeded in doing so. Sometimes he be- 
 lieved that he had done it himself, then it 
 all seemed like a humbug to him, for the 
 teacher had really done most of the work. 
 
 Roland heard carriage-wheels, his heart 
 beat, it was certainly Eric coming. He 
 hurried to the road, and saw Pranken sit- 
 ting by the Justice. 
 
 The Chevalier had followed Roland, who 
 stood staring at the carriage. Pranken 
 held out his hand and asked Roland to in- 
 troduce the gentleman ; Roland was obliged 
 to mention his name, and the Chevalier 
 added, in a tone of studied respect, the 
 position he held. Pranken nodded in a 
 very friendly manner, and left the carriage 
 to walk with Roland, telling him that he 
 brought him greetings from his sister, and 
 that he wanted to speak with him alone, by 
 and by, as he had an important message 
 for him. Then he praised the noble bear- 
 ing of the stranger, and said that such a 
 man was far better than a conceited Ger- 
 man doctor. 
 
 "Eric has a right to be conceited, but 
 he is not," answered Roland. 
 
 Pranken twirled his moustache ; he might 
 be easy, and let Eric have due, since he 
 was out of the way. 
 
 Roland felt an anxiety for which he could 
 not account ; he had a foreboding that 
 something was going on which concerned 
 Eric. At the villa Pranken left Roland to 
 the Chevalier, to whom he nodded gra- 
 ciously ; . he asked the Justice to go without 
 him to Herr Sonnenkamp, and, while the 
 Justice stared in astonishment, vanished, 
 without waiting for an answer, and went to 
 find Fraulein Perini. 
 
 There was a most cordial greeting be- 
 tween the two, who held out both hands to 
 each other. When Pranken asked about 
 the Chevalier, Fräulein Perini pretended to 
 know nothing of him ; Pranken spoke 
 strongly of the good impression he had re- 
 ceived of the man, and affected not to sus- 
 pect that she had brought any secret influ- 
 ence to bear in the matter. 
 
 Then came an account of the visit to 
 Manna. Not fully, but in some measure, 
 Pranken made known what a change had 
 taken place in himself. 
 
 Fräulein Perini listened attentively, hold- 
 ing her pearl cross in her left hand ; then 
 she gave the particulars of Eric's secret 
 visit to Frau Ceres, which she had referred 
 to ir her note : she showed Pranken a let- 
 
 ter, which she had received from the supe- 
 rior in answer to her inquiries about the 
 meeting between Eric and Manna. A copy 
 of a letter from Roland to Manna, in which 
 Eric was mentioned, was also at hand. 
 
 But now all the chivalry in Pranken's na- 
 ture showed itself, increased by a moral and 
 religious impulse. He stretched out his 
 hand, as if he would shelter Manna from 
 every breath, and said firmly and decidedly, 
 that not a syllable more should seem to put 
 her in a doubtful position. The whole 
 thing was nothing but a school-girl fancy of 
 the Justice's silly daughter,' Lina. Manna's 
 radiant being should not be dimmed by the 
 least cloud of suspicion, for she was pure, 
 and great, and noble. Pranken felt himself 
 her knight, the defender of innocence, and 
 he was noble enough to extend his defence 
 to Eric, who was blameless in this respect : 
 honorable feeling and elevated sentiment 
 required that he should do him justice. 
 Fraulein Perini watched Pranken's noble 
 ardor with surprise, as he continued : — 
 
 " From this moment let us forget Lina's 
 childish fancy ; neither you, nor I, nor my 
 sister, nor Herr Sonnenkamp, who fortu- 
 nately knows nothing of it, you say, will 
 ever cherish a thought of it again." 
 
 Fräulein Peuini, instead of being hurt, 
 was quite happy at this greatness of mind 
 and acuteness in Pranken ; she was modest 
 enough to make a jest at the petty ideas of 
 women. With great tact she declared that 
 this was now the true knight's service, for 
 the ground on which the tournament was 
 held in our days was higher than of old. 
 
 Fräulein Perini would, on no considera- 
 tion, come into collison with Pranken, 
 knowing what power she would thereby put 
 out of her hands. Pranken left her, with 
 calm self-satisfaction, to go to Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp : he was almost ready to defend Eric 
 since he was already set aside. With great 
 peace of mind he laid his hand on the book 
 in his breast pocket ; the man who spoke 
 in it would be content with him. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 BALAAM. 
 
 Pranken found the Justice and Sonnen- 
 kamp engaged in general conversation ; the 
 greeting between him and the master of the 
 house was very cordial, and he seated him- 
 self astride on a chair. 
 
 ** I will tell you, honored friend," began 
 Pranken, — he liked to call Sonnenkamp 
 " honored friend " before people, — " I will 
 tell you, by and by, about my journey. Now, 
 let me congratulate you on having appar- 
 ently found the right man for our Roland." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 129 
 
 Herr Somienkamp answered that he 
 should hardly keep the Chevalier ; he was 
 only in the house on trial. Something 
 seemed to tell him that the highly cultivated 
 Swiss would lead Roland's disposition too 
 much towards the clergy and the church. 
 Eric was exactly the man whom he should 
 like the best. 
 
 Pranken looked around, as if to make 
 sure whether the enemy was taking up a 
 new position, and said, — 
 
 " We must undoubtedly estimate the true 
 market-value of this man." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at him sharply, as 
 Pranken rattled out the words " market- 
 value." Did the baron think he must adapt 
 his language to him, the merchant? He 
 could not guess that Pranken prided him- 
 self on the expression which he had care- 
 fully arranged beforehand ; he answered, — 
 
 " The market- value of the man is not 
 small, but this Captain Doctor is an eccen- 
 tric man, and eccentric men are very agree- 
 able, but one can not rely upon them." 
 
 With the warmth of a new convert Pran- 
 ken dwelt on Eric's scepticism, and the 
 necessity of Roland's being trusted to the 
 guidance of a truly religious man, who 
 might, at the same time, know the world and 
 its ways. ' 
 
 Sonnenkamp asked, smiling, — 
 
 "Then would you really advise making 
 an ecclesiastic of Roland ? " 
 
 "If it were his mission " 
 
 Pranken played with his moustache, as he 
 noticed Sonnenkamp's watchful look, bit 
 his lips, and quickly corrected himself. 
 
 " If it were his true vocation, who would 
 take the responsibility of holding him back? 
 Perhaps it would be the noblest thing for 
 him to renounce the treasures of this world, 
 in order to win eternal treasure." 
 
 The Justice played, in an embarrassed 
 manner, with his sword-belt ; these words 
 of unction from the Captain of the Guards 
 seemed to him incomprehensible, and yet 
 they could not be spoken in jest. He 
 avoided meeting the eye of either of his 
 companions. Sonnenkamp looked serious. 
 It only appeared inconceivable to him that 
 the young man could speak so incautiously, 
 if, not satisfied with the prospect of Manna's 
 rich dowry, he wished to appropriate Ro- 
 land's portion. 
 
 In the consciousness of superiority, and 
 in the triumph of playing with men, Son- 
 nenkamp stated that Doctor Richard had 
 spoken to him of Eric so enthusiastically, 
 that it would seem that one covild not bring 
 the man back fast enough in a coach and six. 
 
 "Ah, the doctor! " exclaimed Pranken, 
 swinging his right hand as if it held an in- 
 
 visible riding-whip. "The doctor! Of 
 course ! Atheists and Communists stand by 
 each other. Has the doctor also told you 
 that* he had a private conversation with Herr 
 Dournay on Sunday ? " 
 
 " No ; how do you know it ? " 
 
 " By an accident. I heard — through — 
 through a servant : there was a pretence of 
 going to give medical advice, then a rub- 
 bing of hands, and the remark that there 
 was no need of Herr Sonnenkamp's know- 
 ing that they were united by old ties." 
 
 Sonnenkamp thanked him warmly for this 
 information, but inwardly it grated upon 
 him. A suspicion that one of his servant's 
 was in Pranken's pay, was confirmed. The 
 Pole, to whom Pranken always spoke so 
 pleasantly, must be the man, and he should 
 leave the house. 
 
 Sonnenkamp whistled inaudibly, only 
 from the position of his lips could it be seen 
 that he was whistling. 
 
 The Justice considered it his duty to per- 
 mit no attack on tbe doctor, inasmuch as he 
 was the official district-physician ; their po- 
 sitions called for mutual support. After 
 he had defended the doctor from any harsh 
 judgment, while Pranken continually stroked 
 his beard and mustache, he gave the con- 
 versation a turn by saying : — 
 
 " Herr von Pranken had the best inten- 
 tions in recommending him, but might I 
 express my opinion of the young man ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp replied that he should at- 
 tach much weight to the opinion of the 
 Justice. This was the moment when the 
 strategic movement ought to be made. 
 Pranken set himself more firmly on his 
 chair, and cheered the Justice on to the 
 charge, crying, — 
 
 "Explain yourself clearly. I ought to 
 reproach myself for not having considered 
 that any connection with this young man 
 would be looked upon as a disrespect to 
 the supreme authorities, even as an act of 
 hostility." 
 
 " Allow me," answered the Justice, with 
 a tone and manner as if he were in the 
 court-room, remanding the accused into 
 custody, " allow me to keep within the 
 limits which it behooves me to observe." 
 
 Pranken was beside himself with this 
 Justice; this little, insignificant, almost 
 impotent mannikin maintained a deport- 
 ment which was quite incomprehensible. 
 Pranken had expected that he would work 
 Sonnenkamp into a state of great excite- 
 ment, and would give him an indelible im- 
 pression of the hatred of the court towards 
 Eric, and what really came ? An exceed- 
 ingly mild, most prudently-weighed, amica- 
 ble consideration. 
 
130 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 The Justice had called Eric a dangerous 
 person considered only as a man, as a mem- 
 ber of society. He said lie did not know 
 how rightly to express himself; he * had 
 meant it only in a moral sense ; but he im- 
 mediately took back the word moral, for 
 Eric was known to be a highly moral man. 
 And when he now came to the question 
 whether, through any association with Eric, 
 one would draw upon himself the dis- 
 pleasure of the court, a mild and benig- 
 nant loyalty beamed from the countenance 
 of the little man. 
 
 "The princes of our line," said he, 
 "are not vindictive, but, on the contrary, 
 extremely generous and forgiving ; and 
 our present reigning master ! Good heav- 
 ens ! he has his peculiarities, but they are 
 quite innocent, and with them he has inex- 
 haustible kindness of heart, and do you 
 think he would persecute the son of his 
 teacher and the comrade of his brother's 
 youth ? I would sooner assert that he 
 would show favor to any one who should 
 assist Herr Eric — this Herr Eric, who has 
 made it impossible for him to aid him in 
 person. 11 
 
 Pranken was in despair. He looked at 
 the Justice as if he were a hunting-dog that 
 would not obey. He kept opening and 
 shutting his hand, which seemed to feel a 
 desperate longing for a whip; he made 
 signs to the Justice, but in vain, and at 
 last he smiled bitterly to himself. He 
 looked at the Justice's mouth, thinking that 
 his teeth must have grown again, he spoke 
 fluently and decidedly as he never had done 
 before. Ah, these bureaucrats ! thought 
 Pranken, pulling up his top-boots. Yes, 
 these bureaucrats are not to be depended 
 on ! 
 
 "I am very glad," he cried at last, with 
 a forced smile, "I am delighted that our 
 respected Justice dispels all apprehension. 
 Certainly, these oflicial gentlemen under- 
 stand their business excellently. 11 
 
 The Justice received his stab, but it did 
 not penetrate the uniform. Sonnenkamp 
 seemed to have played with the two men 
 long enough. With an air of triumph, he 
 went to his writing-table, where several 
 sealed letters lay, tore the cover from one 
 which he selected, and gave them the en- 
 closed sheet, saying, — 
 
 " Head that, Herr von Pranken, and you 
 too, Herr Justice, read it aloud." ' 
 
 And the Justice read, — 
 
 Villa Eden, May — , 186-. 
 Respected Herr Captain Doctor 
 Dournay, — You will not take it ill of an 
 old and experienced man, honored sir, if 
 
 he takes the liberty of questioning from 
 his one-sided, practical point of view, 
 whether you are not committing an injus- 
 tice in employing your mind, so richly en- 
 dowed by nature, and furnished with 
 knowledge, upon a single boy, instead of 
 a large community. Allow me to say to 
 you that I regard mind and knowledge as 
 capital, and you make of your capital an 
 investment at far too low a rate of interest. 
 1 honor the nobleness of mind and the 
 modesty so manifest in your offer, but feel- 
 ing assured that you entirely mistake your- 
 self, when you think that you can be sat- 
 isfied in so limited a sphere. I must, no 
 less decidedly than gratefully, decline your 
 offer to undertake the education of my son. 
 
 I desire that you would give me the op- 
 portunity, by offering you a situation for a 
 year, with no special employment attached 
 to it, to show to you how truly I am, most 
 respectfully, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 Henry Sonnenkamp. 
 
 While the Justice was reading, Sonnen- 
 kamp whistled to himself, keeping time 
 with one foot thrown over the other, mani- 
 festly very well satisfied with the letter. 
 
 He received h back with a triumphant 
 glance, put it in a fresh envelope, and ad- 
 dressed it to Eric. While he was writing 
 the address, he said, — 
 
 "I should like very much to take the 
 man into my house on a different footing ; 
 he should do nothing but sit at the table 
 and converse. Why should not that be had 
 for money ? If I were a Prince, I would 
 appoint conversation-councillors. Are not 
 the chamberlains something of this sort ? " 
 he asked Herr von Pranken, with a slight 
 touch of sarcasm. 
 
 Pranken was disturbed. There was often 
 in this man a height of presumption, which 
 did not spare even the sacred precincts of 
 the court ; but Pranken smiled very obse- 
 quiously. Lootz was summoned through 
 the speaking-tube, the letter was put into 
 the post-bag, and Lootz departed. 
 
 Roland was waiting for Pranken, who 
 now went with him into a retired place of 
 the park, and there gave him an account 
 of his journey, and delivered to him a 
 second copy of Thomas ä Kempis. He 
 pointed out to Roland the place where he 
 was to begin reading that day, and what 
 he was to read every day ; but always se- 
 cretly, whether his tutor should be a be- 
 liever or an unbeliever. 
 
 "Isn't Eric coming back any more?" 
 asked Roland. 
 
 "Your father had written to him a de- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 131 
 
 cided refusal before I came, and the letter 
 has been put into the post before this." 
 
 The boy sat upon the bench in the park, 
 and stared fixedly, the book open in his 
 hand. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DEJECTION AND COURAGE IN A CHILD'S 
 HEART . 
 
 At the table, Frau Ceres % thought that 
 her son looked very pale ; she besought the 
 Chevalier not to tax him so severely, and 
 especially not to let him draw so long out 
 of doors. • 
 
 Tho Chevalier entirely coincided with 
 this ; it was his plan to have Roland draw 
 from plaster-models, and after that, he 
 would take him out into the free air. 
 
 * 4 Taken out into free air?" said Ro- 
 land to himself; and it seemed to strike him 
 that there was a contradiction in the idea of 
 being taken into the free air. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was unusually cheerful at 
 dinner ; his contempt for men had to-day 
 received new confirmation, and he had fresh 
 conviction of his ability to play with them. 
 He enjoyed a special sense of freedom in 
 the thought that this Herr Dournay, who 
 undertook to dictate matters for him and 
 for so many other people, was now done 
 with. Yet he must acknowledge to him- 
 self, that he could, probably, have made no 
 better choice for his son. 
 
 After dinner, Pranken allowed the Jus- 
 tice, who was in a hurry, to be driven to 
 town in Sonnenkamp's carriage ; he himself 
 remained in very confidential conversation 
 with Sonnenkamp, who admired the art 
 with which a young man, who was a suitor 
 for a wealthy maiden, worked himself into 
 a state of enthusiasm thereat. 
 
 After Pranken had departed, Sonnen- 
 kamp went to the conservatory, where Ro- 
 land soon came to him and said : — 
 
 " Father, I have a request." 
 
 "I shall be glad, if it is a request that I 
 can grant." 
 
 "Father, I promise to learn everyday 
 the names of twenty plants, if you will give 
 me Herr Eric again." 
 
 " Very nice of Herr Dournay to teach 
 you to promise me that." 
 
 The boy looked at his father, as if con- 
 founded, his lips swelled, and gazing timid- 
 ly around upon the plants, as if he called 
 upon them to bear testimony that he was 
 speaking the truth, he cried : — 
 
 " Eric has not said to me anything of the 
 kind, any more than those plants have ; he 
 has not taught me to say that ; but if he 
 
 had, I would learn it from him, and from 
 nobody but him." 
 
 "Not even from me ?" exclaimed Son- 
 nenkamp. 
 
 The boy was silent, and his father repeat- 
 ed the question : — 
 
 " Not eveVfrom me ? n 
 
 His tone was vehement, and he doubled 
 up his great fist. 
 
 M Not even from me ? " he asked the third 
 time. 
 
 The boy drew back, and cried with a 
 thrilling voice : — 
 "Father!" 
 
 Sonnenkamp's fist unclosed, and with 
 forced composure he said : — 
 
 " I didn't mean to punish you, Roland — 
 come here — nearer — nearer yet." 
 
 The boy went to him, and his father placed 
 his hand upon his forehead, which was hot, 
 while the father's hand was cold. 
 
 " I love you more than you can under- 
 stand," said the father. He bent down his 
 head, but the boy stretched out both hands, 
 crying with a voice full of anguish : — 
 
 "Ah, father! I beseech you — father, 
 I beseech you, not to kiss me now." 
 
 Sonnenkamp turned and went away. He 
 expected that the boy would follow him, and 
 clasp him round the neck, but he did not 
 come. 
 
 Sonnenkamp stood in the hot-house near 
 the palms ; he felt chilly ; then he asked 
 himself : Why does not the child love you ? 
 Is that crack-brained German revolutionist, 
 that Doctor Fritz, in* the right, who used the 
 words in a published letter : Thou who ex- 
 tirpatest filial and parental love in thy fel- 
 low human beings, how canst thou hope for 
 the love of thine own children ? " 
 
 He could not comprehend how these 
 words, which were uttered in a contest long 
 gone by, and which he wished to forget, 
 now came into his mind. Suddenly a loud 
 cry made the strong man shudder. 
 
 " God bless you, massa! God bless you, 
 massa ! " seemed to be uttered by the voice 
 of a spirit. 
 
 He searched about, and found^ his wife's 
 parrot, which had been brought in its cage 
 to the hot-house. The gardener, when, 
 summoned, informed him that Frau Ceres 
 had ordered the parrot to be brought here,, 
 as the dwelling-house was too cold for it. 
 
 God bless you, massa ! God bless you, 
 massa ! " cried the parrot behind Sonnen« 
 kamp, as he was leaving the palm-house. 
 
 Roland, in the meanwhile, stood as if 
 rooted at the spot where his father had left 
 him ; the park, the house, everything swam 
 round before his eyes. Joseph then came. 
 Roland was rejoiced that there was yet one 
 
132 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 human being with whom he could lament 
 over Eric's expulsion. He told him what 
 had happened, and made complaint about 
 his father. / 
 
 " Don't say anything to me that I can- 
 not repeat to your father," interposed Jo- 
 seph. He was a prudent and 'faithful ser- 
 vant, who would have nothing to do with 
 secrets, or with tale-bearing. His father 
 had impressed that upon him, when he went 
 away from his home, and he had resolutely 
 and faithfully kept his counsel. 
 
 Roland asked Joseph if he was not going 
 to return soon to his native city ; Joseph 
 replied in the negative, but went on to tell, 
 with great animation, how splendid it was 
 the first time he had leave to go home. He 
 described very minutely the road, and 
 whom he met at this place and at that, 
 and how his mother was peeling potatoes 
 when he stepped into the house, and how 
 then his father came in, and all the neigh- 
 bors, and expected to see him wearing 
 golden clothes, because he was in the ser- 
 vice of so rich a man. Joseph laughed at 
 this simplicity, but Roland did not. He 
 went back to the house, and it seemed to 
 him as if the whole house thrust him out. 
 He went into Manna's chamber ; he thought 
 it would seem homelike here, but the pic- 
 tures on the wall, and the flowers in the 
 chimney-place, looked at him so strange 
 and so inquiring. He wished to write to 
 Manna, and tell her of all his troubles, but 
 he could not write. 
 
 He left the house and went into the court ; 
 here he stood for a while, looking round 
 dreamily. The Chevalier came out and 
 asked him if he did not want to do some- 
 thing ; Roland stared at him, as if he did 
 not recognize who he was, and made no re- 
 ply. He took his cross-bow, but he did not 
 draw the string. The sparrows and doves . 
 
 flew about hither and thither; the hand- 
 some dogs crowded up to him and sniffed 
 around him, but Roland was like one be- 
 wildered. 
 
 He went to the river-bank, followed by 
 his great dog, Devil, and there he sat down 
 under the huge, tall willows, putting his hat 
 on the ground near him, for his head seemed 
 on fire. He bathed his brow with water, 
 but his brow was no cooler. He did not 
 know how long he had been sitting there, 
 gazing fixedly into vacancy without any con- 
 scious thought, when he heard some one 
 call him by name. He involuntarily clapped 
 his hand upon the muzzle of the dog lying 
 near him, scarcely breathing himself, in or- 
 der not to betray his place of concealment. 
 The voice grew fainter, and ceased to be 
 heard. He still sat quiet, and cautioned 
 the dog in a low tone to be still also ; the 
 dog seemed to understand him. 
 
 Roland took out of his side-pocket the let- 
 ter he had written to Eric, and read it ; his 
 eyes overflowed with tears of longing and 
 grief, and getting up, he hurled the letter 
 into the river. 
 
 The night came on. Noiselessly, as a 
 hunter who is stalking a deer, Roland left his 
 lurking-place, and wended his way through 
 the narrow path of the vineyard back from 
 the river. He wanted to go to the hunts- 
 man, he wanted to go to the Major, he want- 
 ed to go to somebody who would help him. 
 Suddenly he stopped. 
 
 "No! to nobody — to nobody!" he 
 breathed low to himself, as if he hardly 
 dared trust the silent night. 
 
 "To him! to him!" 
 
 He crouched down, so that nobody should 
 see him in the vineyard, although it was 
 dark. He did not stand erect, until he 
 came to the highway above. 
 
 v 
 
• THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 133 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 HELPING ONE'S SELF, OR BEING HELPED. 
 
 Eric turned homewards, like a man, who, 
 coming out of a saloon illuminated with 
 dazzling brilliancy, to his study where burns 
 a solitary lamp, involuntarily rubs his eyes, 
 which having become accustomed to the 
 greater degree of brightness, require it, and 
 are unable without it to see so clearly and 
 distinctly as before. 
 
 The peril of wealth lies in the fact that it 
 may ruin not only the possessor, but the 
 non-possessor. Language has not com- 
 pletely covered the whole case, when it calls 
 this dissatisfaction and unrest of soul, envy, 
 grudging, churlishness ; it is not this at all, 
 it is rather the severe torment of the unan- 
 swered question, Why art thou not as rich ? 
 No, this thou dost not desire ; but why 
 art thou not, at least, placed out of the 
 reach of anxious care ? The struggles of 
 human life are hard enough, why must thou 
 have, in addition, this wrestling with sordid 
 want ? 
 
 The most cruel suffering which the per- 
 ception of riches inflicts upon the non-pos- 
 sessor is, that it produces in him an unwil- 
 lingness to work, a supineness, a conscious- 
 ness of servitude, and yet worse, that it 
 makes all effort appear questionable. What 
 avails all thy contriving, thy aspiration, all 
 thy superstructure of great thoughts, so 
 long as there are human beings near thee, 
 inhabiting with thee the same earth, and 
 perishing with starvation ! 
 
 The ant in the pathway is better taken 
 care of, for there are no ants who are glutted, 
 while others near by are hungry. What is 
 all labor, so long as this monster still stalks 
 in the midst of us ! Has that world-wisdom, 
 has that religious doctrine, the victorious 
 power of truth, if it cannot annihilate this 
 monster ? 
 
 Eric shut his eyes, and dreamed in broad 
 daylight that disturbed dream of our age, 
 which attends the clatter of the locomotive. 
 The locomotive rushed along with rapid 
 piston-beat, making a strange accofnpani- 
 ment to the meditation of the silent passen- 
 ger. He had his eyes closed, and yet he 
 now perceived that they were passing 
 through a tunnel. And as such a plunge 
 into the darkness of earth suddenly inter- 
 rupts all conversation, so does it break off 
 the thread of silent thought. 
 
 When they emerged into the light again, 
 the current of Eric's thoughts became 
 changed. A smile came over his counte- 
 nance, which looked as if he were asleep, as 
 the thought occurred to him that a rich vein 
 
 was opened for a treatise upon the theoref 
 ical and practical treatment of poverty, 
 philosophically, religiously, politically, and 
 morally, in ancient times. The bitterness 
 of the feeling of poverty was thereby less- 
 ened and removed, for poverty itself came 
 into the realm of science. And his medita- 
 tion proceeded farther ; for to the historical 
 view of poverty there was added a consid- 
 eration of its essential nature. Man alone 
 can be poor and rich. The whole world of 
 human society is a linked chain of inquiring 
 glances, as if each would say to the other, 
 " Thou hast what I have not." 
 
 In external nature, no creature looks to 
 another differently constituted, no created 
 thing troubles itself about another ; each 
 bird in the wood has its own range for pro- 
 curing food for its young, and no other one 
 of the same species builds its nest within 
 that circuit, obliging it to struggle for in- 
 sects and grubs to feed its brood. The 
 animals of a like species, of like character- 
 istics, of like means of defence and attack, 
 alone live together in one herd, but they 
 have no union. Man alone comes into a 
 union with beings of a like species, those 
 who, endowed by nature with the same fac- 
 ulties, are furnished by destiny with greater 
 force than he himself possesses. 
 
 The clattering continued without inter- 
 ruption, the locomotive whistled, and the 
 thought took hold of Eric's soul, that the 
 grandest idea which humanity has ever re- 
 vealed out of -the mouth of an individual 
 has been this : ft No one is poor and no one 
 rich, when we direct the thought to the 
 Eternal. The Fatherhood of God bridges 
 over the abyss." 
 
 The wheels upon the iron rails went on 
 beating time, and gave a new rhythm to 
 Eric's thought, who now opened his eyes, 
 saying to himself, — 
 
 "So it is! The children of God are 
 borne along in the first, second, and third 
 class railway carriages by the same power, 
 the power of steam, whether they sit upon 
 soft or hard benches ; it makes no differ- 
 ence." 
 
 People got in, people got out ; Eric took no 
 notice of them, and they did not disturb 
 his meditation. He quietly smiled upon all, 
 and saw them as in a dream, wholly forget- 
 ful of himself, as one looks upon the move- 
 ment hither and thither in an ant-hill, where 
 each may carry its pine-needle, its little 
 seed-grain. 
 
 Eric first waked up when his ticket was 
 called for, as they approached the univer- 
 sity-town, and then he roused himself as if 
 he had just come out of a deep, dream-dis- 
 turbed sleep; he composed himself ready 
 
134 
 
 TUE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. * 
 
 to greet his mother. He got out. No one 
 was awaiting his arrival. 
 
 The hills around, which had formerly 
 seemed to Erie so bright and beautiful, and 
 where he had strolled alone or with his fa- 
 ther, engaged in the contemplation of vast, 
 world-important thoughts, these hills now 
 appeared so low and so small, and the river 
 so insignificant ! His eye had taken in 
 wider and more extensive views, and a 
 larger standard of measurement had uncon- 
 sciously been made his own. 
 
 He saw the old forms at the station, he 
 saw the university-simpleton, which every 
 smaller university has, who grinned at the 
 doctor, and bade him welcome. He saw 
 the students with their caps of various 
 colors, who were amusing themselves with 
 making passes in the air with their canes, 
 and playing with their dogs. All this 
 seemed to him like a forgotten dream. And 
 how was this ? Had it not formerly been 
 his highest desire to live and to teach here ? 
 
 He went through the town, — nowhere any- 
 thing pleasing to the eye ; all was narrow, 
 angular, contracted. He came to the pater- 
 nal mansion ; the narrow, wooden steps 
 seemed to him so steep ; he entered the sit- 
 ting-room. No one was there. Mother 
 and aunt had gone out. He went into his 
 father's library: the books, formerly ar- 
 ranged in such good order, and which, 
 hitherto, no one had ventured to disturb, 
 were lying, for the most part, upon the 
 floor; a tall, lean man, looking over the 
 spectacles on the tip of his nose, stood star- 
 ing at him with surprise. 
 
 Eric introduced himself ; the man took 
 the spectacles in his hand, and gave as his 
 name that of a well-known antiquary in the 
 capital, who had come to purchase the 
 library. 
 
 So his mother's hope was gone, thought 
 Eric. He remarked to the antiquary how 
 valuable his father's" annotations were, 
 which were to be found on almost, every 
 page of every book. 
 
 The antiquary shrugging his shoulders, 
 replied that these comments were valueless, 
 and that they even detracted from the value 
 of the books. If his father had written a 
 great book, which gave him a great reputa- 
 tion, these notes would then have value ; but 
 his lather had all his life been intending to 
 write a great work, but had never accom- 
 plished it ; and so all the notes and com- 
 ments, even if valuable in themselves, were 
 for the antiquary a depreciation in the 
 worth of the books. 
 
 The tears came into Eric's eyes, already 
 excited as he was by what he had gone 
 through. 
 
 The whole labor of his father's life was 
 not only to be lost, but to be worse than 
 lost. Here was no leaf on which the eye 
 of the sleeping one had not rested, here 
 were his private thoughts, his feelings and 
 his rich wisdom, and this was to be flung 
 away into the world, despised, and perhaps 
 appropriated by some stranger for his own 
 profit. 
 
 Eric blamed himself for not accepting de- 
 cidedly and immediately the position with 
 Sonnenkamp; he . might have effected it, 
 and then have received a considerable sura 
 of money. He blamed himself for letting 
 the old cavalier pride get the better of him! 
 
 Eric looked sorrowfully upon a whole 
 pile of manuscript sheets, books, and in- 
 serted printed scraps, which his father had 
 been collecting and preparing his whole 
 lifetime. 
 
 Eric's father had intended to write a 
 book with the title, 44 The Real Man in 
 History ; " but he had died before accom- 
 plishing his purpose. Many valuable notes, 
 even single portions, had been written out, 
 but no use could be made of them, for each 
 separate remark was considered in three 
 different ways, and the leading idea had 
 been contained in the head of the professor 
 alone. All the sciences and the most re- 
 mote facts of history had been drawn to- 
 gether, but the leading and connecting 
 thought of the whole had vanished with the 
 man himself, now resting in the ground; 
 no entire form could be constructed out of 
 these fragments. Only one thing was of- 
 ten pointed out, that the title should be, 
 "The Real Man." ■ 
 
 The first and larger part was to have 
 collected those traits, scattered in the 
 course of ages, out of which the image of 
 God could be constructed as it was mani- 
 fest in. all the actual unfoldings of human- 
 ity ; the second part was then to give an 
 exact account of the manifestations of the 
 soul's life in the past, to be as definitely 
 determined as past events in external na- 
 ture ; and from there onwards was the 
 point to be designated where genius, that 
 miracle in the intellectual sphere, lays the 
 foundation for new developments. This 
 was what Eric thought, at any rate, when 
 he tried to arrange the papers left by his 
 father; then the leading and fundamental 
 thought vanished, and all this matter col- 
 lected with such laborious industry seemed 
 utterly useless. As a treasure-digger, who 
 must raise the treasure without speaking, 
 so his father seemed to have closed his lips 
 upon what he had already done, and upon 
 what he intended to do. 
 
 Eric went back to the sitting-room, and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 135 
 
 the deep emotion of his heart, the whole 
 uncertainty of his position, the growing 
 strangeness of his home — all these were 
 gathered into the thought of the lost labor, 
 the useless toil of his father. 
 
 He looked around the room ; it seemed 
 to him inconveniently crowded with old 
 furniture. He, who generally examined 
 himself so closely and judged himself so 
 severely, did not suspect that the sight of 
 luxurious wealth and the late recognition 
 of his own poverty had thrown a dark veil 
 over all surrounding objects. 
 
 He collected himself, for he heard his 
 mother and aunt returning. 
 
 His mother was heartily glad to see her 
 son, but Eric was deeply troubled when 
 she told him that she should have thought 
 it quite right if he had accepted the situa- 
 tion with Sonnenkamp without reference to 
 her, because, in their present position, it 
 seemed double good fortune. 
 
 Eric saw that his mother, whom nothing 
 had ever been able to bend, was now not 
 only bent, but broken, and while he looked 
 into her sorrowful face, he bitterly felt that 
 his scruples and his sacrifice appeared su- 
 perfluous. 
 
 His mother, repressing her own feelings, 
 had written to the widowed princess, whose 
 maid of honor she had been, giving an ac- 
 count of her situation. She had poured 
 out her whole heart to the noble lady, and 
 spoken of the great good fortune of the 
 princess in being able to render essential 
 help to her, who had never asked any 
 favor ; she requested a limited sum of 
 money in order not to be obliged to sell 
 the^library of her husband, which was a 
 sacred family possession, and had great 
 value for her son. Tears came into her 
 own eyes, as she read over the letter she 
 had written. And now the mother handed 
 to her son the reply of the dowager prin- 
 cess. She had answered through her sec- 
 retary in well-expressed, sympathetic, and 
 gracious terms. A small sum of money 
 was enclosed, not half enough for the ob- 
 ject in view. 
 
 The mother had had the desire to return 
 this small sum, with the shrewd reply that, 
 perhaps, the subordinate employed had not 
 enclosed the full amount determined on by 
 the princess ; but she did not do it ; one 
 must not offend these high personages ; one 
 must even return humble thanks, in order 
 not to forfeit their unsubstantial good-will. 
 
 Eric promised to have the library secured 
 within a week. 
 
 He went immediately to his chamber, 
 and wrote a letter to Count Wolfsgarten. 
 He stated in plain words his state of mind 
 
 at reaching his paternal home, in what con- 
 dition he had found it and his mother, and 
 finally he quoted to Clodwig his declara- 
 tion, — 
 
 **I feel so much a friend to you, that I 
 can allow myself to be placed under obliga- 
 tion by you." 
 
 Eric had written that he should feel no 
 change towards Wolfsgarten, even if he re- 
 fused his request. But feeling that this 
 was not true, he tore up the letter and 
 wrote another, leaving out this assurance. 
 It was no trifling matter for Eric, the first 
 time in his life, to present himself as a pe- 
 titioner, yes, — he tormented himself with 
 the word, — as a beggar. 
 
 Eric now spoke directly of his journey. 
 His mother heard him through quietly, ex- 
 cept that when Bella was mentioned, she 
 said, — "Bella Pranken is a woman who 
 cannot be counted on." 
 
 The old plans were discussed anew. 
 Eric wanted to establish an educational in- 
 stitution, and his mother and aunt were 
 strongly inclined to this, as they had many 
 connections with the best families of the 
 country ; but they were not agreed whether 
 they should have an institution for girls or 
 for boys. Eric was in favor of the latter, 
 as he could have more direct relations with 
 .that; but his mother wanted him to make 
 a scientific journey for several years, so as 
 to acquire a reputation at once by means 
 of some great work, and not creep on in 
 the plodding path. She and the aunt 
 would, in the meanwhile, earn so much at 
 the capital that Eric could live free from 
 care. 
 
 They came to the conclusion to make no 
 positive decision until Herr Sonnenkamp's 
 letter should be received. The mother 
 said that it would be the fulfilment of one 
 of her ideals of life to take possession of 
 the vinercovered little house ; and she en- 
 tertained a sanguine hope of attaining some 
 influence over the lad surrounded by the 
 dangers of riches ; she should be glad to 
 do so, as he was just the age of the son she 
 had lost. 
 
 Eric visited his old teacher and friend, 
 Professor Einsiedel, who was his chief in- 
 structor. He was a high-priest of science, 
 a man who, engaged continually and ex- 
 clusively in the region of pure thought, 
 and in investigations for the extension of 
 the sphere of knowledge, lived entirely 
 alone, regular, methodical, systematic, free 
 from all excitement, eating and drinking 
 an incredibly small quantity, but always 
 attracted by new developments of truth, 
 always open-eyed to look into the wide- 
 spreading realm of thought. 
 
136 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Professor Einsiedel had been a friend of 
 Eric's father, and he always lamented that 
 he, who was continually striving after the 
 best and the perfect, had not accomplished 
 the good, which is necessarily incomplete. 
 His axiom was, that we must be contented 
 with having made some small, individual 
 contribution, and that this extends to be- 
 come a part of the great whole. We never 
 accomplish anything that gives us perfect 
 satisfaction, and to which we have nothing 
 more to add. Only of the Creator can it 
 be said, that on ending his work, He saw 
 that it was good. The absolute mind can 
 alone effect that the created existence 
 shall correspond to the creative thought, 
 the actual to the ideal ; the finite mind 
 must always have over it the idea of what 
 it can do, and what it ought to do. 
 
 Whenever Eric came to the professor 
 with any scientific inquiry, he received at 
 once direction as to the best and most di- 
 rect sources of information ; he would even, 
 with the greatest disinterestedness, place at 
 the disposal of every one his own carefully 
 prepared notes. It was the same to him 
 whether it were published under his own 
 name or under that of another person, pro- 
 vided it went forth to the world. 
 
 In the professor's study was a picture by 
 Rembrandt, a small copper-plate engrav- 
 ing, which was almost a portrait of the pro- 
 fessor himself. It represented Faust in his 
 night-cap, gazing at the magic circle il- 
 luminated by its own light. Faust is an 
 old, wizzled-up little man, sorely in need 
 of the rejuvenating draught. Professor 
 Einsiedel had no such magic potion, but 
 he drank new life, every day, from the 
 ancient classics. 
 
 When Eric now called upon him, to get 
 help and advice, he found the good old 
 professor — living entirely alone, and trou- 
 bled not so much by being alone*, as by 
 the necessity of taking care of life — in 
 rather an odd plight. He regretted that 
 Eric did not devote himself exclusively to 
 science, but admitted also that Eric's nat- 
 ural tendency was to some practical and 
 personal activity. And with a smile, pecu- 
 liarly his own, he said, — 
 
 " You are a well-formed man, and you 
 ought to make money out of that, for it is 
 worth something. Yes, yes, that will be a 
 help." 
 
 Eric, in his restlessness and in his ardent 
 desire not to be waiting, but to do some- 
 thing for himself, went the next day to the 
 capital, for he had heard from the anti- 
 quarian, that an elderly man who con- 
 ducted a very respectable institute was 
 
 about to retire, and wanted to transfer it to 
 good hands. 
 
 He came to the capital where he had 
 lived as an officer many years, respected 
 and without care. Several comrades in 
 in their uniform seemed not to know him ; 
 others bethought themselves after he had 
 passed, and called out, "Ah, is it you? 
 j Good-morning ! " and went on. He went 
 j through the capital, where he was born, 
 and where he felt at home, making inqui- 
 ries like a stranger; he hoped it would 
 again seem familiar and homelike to him, 
 when he should go out into the streets from 
 an established place of abode and a daily 
 employment. 
 
 He was well received by the school-pro- 
 prietor, and the conditions were acceptable. 
 The respect in which his parents were held 
 was of great advantage to him here ; but 
 the necessity of adopting the old regulations 
 and methods made him hesitate. Without 
 coming to any definite arrangement, he left 
 the school-building. 
 
 He met now in one of the streets an old 
 friend of his father, the present minister of 
 education, who, stopping him, and inquir- 
 ing about his mother and his own welfare, 
 offered him the situation of custodian in 
 the cabinet of antiquities, with the assur- 
 ance that he should soon be promoted to the 
 directorship. Eric promised to take the 
 matter into consideration. 
 
 Just as he left the minister, an oldish 
 man, who had been waiting for him under a 
 house-porch, came up to him and greeted 
 him in a very friendly manner. Eric could 
 not call to mind who he was, and the man 
 said that Eric had once done him a good 
 turn in the house of correction, and thanked 
 him for it ; he was now in a very good situ- 
 ation as servant of the chancellor, and with 
 a half-sly, half-pious expression of counte- 
 nance, he offered to render Eric any service 
 that was in his power. 
 
 Eric thanked him ; he did not notice that 
 many persons, who went by and recognised 
 him, regarded this companionship as very 
 odd. 
 
 Now the comrade who had taken Eric's 
 place, and had become an actual captain, 
 came from parade ; he took Eric with him 
 to the military club-house, and Eric was 
 cheerful and lost all thought of the troubles 
 of life. In the club-house there was much 
 talk about Otto von Pranken and his mar- 
 riage with a Creole worth many millions. 
 Eric did not consider it necessary to say 
 that Manna was no Creole, and that he had 
 some knowledge of how the matter really 
 stood. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 WHERE ART THOU, ROLAND? 
 
 " Where is Roland ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp asks Joseph, Joseph asks 
 Bertram, Bertram asks Lootz, Lootz asks 
 the head-gardener, the head-gardener asks 
 the Little-squirrel, the Little-squirrel asks the 
 laborers, the laborers ask the children, the 
 children ask the air, Fräulein Perini asks the 
 Chevalier, the Chevalier asks the dogs, and 
 Frau Ceres must find out nothing from any 
 of them. 
 
 Sonnenkamp rides at full speed to the 
 Major, the Major asks Fräulein Milch, but 
 she, who knows everything, this time knows 
 nothing. The Major rides to the castle ; 
 Roland's name is called out in all the exca- 
 vations and dungeons, but there is no an- 
 swer. 
 
 Sonnenkamp sends .the groom to the 
 huntsman, but he is off to the field, and not 
 to be found. 
 
 Sonnenkamp rides to the railroad station, 
 taking with him Puck, Roland's pony, and 
 often looking at the empty saddle. He 
 asks at the station, in an indifferent tone, if 
 Roland had not arrived, as if he were ex- 
 pecting his return from a journey. No one 
 had seen him. Sonnenkamp rides back to 
 the villa, and asks hurriedly if he has not 
 come, and when they say no, he rides to 
 the next station up the river. He asks here 
 also, but less cautiously, and here nothing 
 is known. The servants rush hither and 
 thither as if bewildered. 
 
 Sonnenkamp returns to the villa ; the 
 Major is there ; Fräulein Milch has sent him, 
 as perhaps he can render some assistance. 
 She thinks that Roland has certainly gone 
 to the convent. The Major and Sonnen- 
 kamp drive to the telegraph-office, and send 
 a message to the convent ; they are ex- 
 tremely impatient, for there is no direct 
 telegraphic communication, and so it will be 
 two hours before an answer can be returned. 
 Sonnenkamp desires to wait here, and sends 
 the Major to the town, where he was to see 
 the doctor, and make inquiries everywhere, 
 but not so as to excite any observation. 
 
 Sonnenkamp goes up and down at the 
 station, and places his hot brow against the 
 cool stone pillars ; all is quiet and empty. 
 He went into the passengers 1 room ; he 
 found that the seats at the station were not 
 made for comfortable rest ; it was horribly 
 inhuman. In America it is different, or it 
 isn't — no matter. 
 
 He went out ; he saw the men loading a 
 freight-car, — they did it so leisurely; he 
 looked at a stone-cutter who was using a 
 pick and a hammer : he looked fixedly at him 
 
 as if he himself wanted to learn the trade. 
 People everywhere were working so quietly ; 
 they might well do so, they had not lost a 
 son. He observed the telegraph-wires, he 
 had an impulse to cry tln-oughout the whole 
 world, even where it would be of no possible 
 avail, — 
 
 " Where is my son ? " 
 
 Night comes on. The railway-train rolls 
 in, and Sonnenkamp steps back in terror ; it 
 seems to him that the locomotive would 
 rush directly upon him. He composes him- 
 self, he looks about, he strains his eyes, he 
 sees nothing of Roland. The people dis- 
 perse, and all is again still. 
 
 Sonnenkamp went to the telegraphist, 
 and asked again if the telegram which had 
 been sent had reached its destination. The 
 reply was, " Yes." The clicking of the 
 telegraph-lever thrilled him ; he felt the same 
 blows in his throbbing temples. He re- 
 quested the operator to remain there during 
 the night, as one could not tell but that a 
 message might be sent to him, or he might 
 want to send one. 
 
 But the operator refused, although a large 
 sum of money was offered him ; he was not 
 allowed to change the arrangements without 
 orders from his superiors. He ordered his 
 assistant to stay there as long as he himself 
 remained ; he closed the door with a bang, 
 and went off. He was evidently afraid of 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was again alone. Then he 
 heard the stroke of oars on the river. 
 
 "Is it you, Herr Major?" he cried out 
 into the starlight night. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Have you found him ? " 
 "No." 
 
 The Major got out of the boat ; there 
 was no trace of Roland in the town. An 
 answer could not be received from the con- 
 vent before early the next morning. Now 
 the thought presented itself, that perhaps 
 Roland was with Count Wolfsgarten. A 
 messenger was sent thither, and they re- 
 turned to the villa. 
 
 When Sonnenkamp extended his hand to 
 the Major to help, him into the carriage the 
 flatter said, — 
 
 " Your hand is so cold to-day." 
 
 It shot through Sonnenkamp's brain, like 
 an arrow, that he had wanted to punish the 
 boy to-day. If the boy, with this thought 
 in his mind, had drowned himself in the 
 waters of the Rhine ! 
 
 The ring on his thumb burned into his 
 flesh, as if it were red-hot. 
 
 Joseph met them on their way back to 
 the villa. 
 
 Is he there?" cried the Major. Son- 
 
138 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 nenkamp could not himself ask the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " No ; but the gracious lady has got hold 
 
 of it." 
 
 In the village through which they drove, 
 people were still standing together in 
 groups, and chatting in the mild spring- 
 night. They met the priest, and Sonnen- 
 kamp requested him to accompany them to 
 the villa. 
 
 When they arrrived at the court of the 
 villa, Sonnenkamp remained sitting in the 
 carriage, as if he had lost himself, and did 
 not get out until he was spoken to. He 
 gained strength and self-possession after his 
 feet touched the ground. 
 
 Lights flitted to and fro, and shone 
 through the lofty windows of the house. 
 Now a shriek was heard, and he hurried in. 
 In the great saloon, Frau Ceres, in her 
 night-dress, was kneeling before a chair, her 
 face hidden in the cushion. The priest 
 stood by her side, Fräulein Perini was 
 pouring an effervescent powder into a 
 glass. Sonnenkamp went quickly to his 
 wife, placed his hand upon her shoulder, 
 crying, — 
 
 " Ceres, be quiet." 
 
 The lady turned round, glared at him 
 with glowing eyes, then sprang up, tore 
 open the garment on his breast, shrieking, — 
 
 " My son ! give me my son, you — " 
 
 Sonncnkamp held his broad hand over 
 her mouth ; she tried to bite him, but he 
 kept her mouth closed, and she was still. 
 
 Sonnenkamp requested the priest and 
 Fräulein Perini to leave his wife ; Fräulein 
 Perini hesitated, but a wave of his hand 
 gave her decided orders to go. She and the 
 Ecclesiastic left the room. Now Sonnen- 
 kamp took Frau Ceres up in his arms, as if 
 she were a child ; carried her in to her cham- 
 ber, and laid her upon the bed. Her feet 
 were cold, and he wrapped a cloth around 
 them in such a manner, that they were 
 firmly bound. After a .while, Frau Ceres 
 slept, or only pretended to be asleep ; it 
 was the same either way. He went out 
 into the balcony-chamber, where the Eccle- 
 siastic, the Major, and Fräulein Perini were 
 sitting together. He urged the priest to 
 betake himself to rest, thanking him very 
 warmly ; he said the same to Fräulein 
 Perini, with an odd mingling of courteous- 
 ness and authoritativeness in his manner ; 
 he requested the Major to stay with him. 
 
 For an hour he sat with the Major at the 
 open balcony-door, looking up at the starry 
 heaven and listening to the rushing river ; 
 then he requested the Major to go to bed ; 
 the day would enable them to proceed qui- 
 etly on sure ground. He himself lay down 
 
 in the ante-chamber to his wife's room ; he 
 went again softly to her bed, shading the 
 light with his hand ; she was sleeping 
 quietly, with burning cheeks. 
 
 All was still at the villa. Sonnenkamp 
 was waked up when the messenger returned 
 from Wolfsgarten; they knew nothing of 
 Roland there. 
 
 "Is Herr von Pranken coming?' 1 asked 
 Sonnenkamp. The messenger did not know. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was very weary, and ex- 
 hausted from want of sleep, but he could 
 not rest ; he stood at the balcony and lis- 
 tened to the singing of the birds and the 
 rushing of the river ; he saw the sun rise 
 in the heavens, he heard the clocks strike ; 
 the whole world, so fresh and beautiful, 
 seemed to him a chaos. His daughter at 
 the convent, and his wife ready, at any mo- 
 ment, to testify the most horrible things 
 against him, and hi* son disappeared, leav- 
 ing no trace ! Perhaps his corpse is float- 
 ing yonder in the water ! It seemed to 
 Sonnenkamp, for a moment, as if he must 
 throw himself headlong from the balcony, 
 and put an end to his life. Then he stood 
 erect and took a fresh cigar. 
 
 He went down into the park ; the trees 
 were quivering noiselessly in the early 
 dawn, and their leaves rustled and whis- 
 pered when the morning sunbeam stirred 
 them into music and motion. The birds 
 were carroling ; they had their home and 
 their family, and to them no child was mis- 
 sing 
 
 Sonnenkamp wandered hither and thither. 
 This soil is his, these trees are his, every- 
 thing is green, blooming, breathing a 
 fresh life. Does he still breathe for whom 
 all this had life, for whom it all was to live, 
 for whom it was planted and set in order ? 
 
 ** Why is it? why is it? 11 shrieked Son- 
 nenkamp through the park. No reply 
 came from without ; perhaps one came from 
 within, for he pressed both hands, doubled 
 up, against his breast. 
 
 He came into the orchard. There stood 
 the trees, whose branches he had shaped 
 according to his pleasure ; they stood in full 
 blossom, and now, in the first morning 
 beam, the blossoms were falling down like a 
 low rustling rain upon the ground, that 
 looked white as if covered with flakes of 
 snow. 
 
 The lighter the morning became, the 
 more confident did Sonnenkamp feel that 
 Roland was floating there a corpse in the 
 river, which was now of a reddish purple, 
 a stream of blood ; the far-extending water 
 was nothing but blood ! He uttered a deep 
 groan, and stretched out his hand, as if he 
 must grasp and throttle something. He 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 139 
 
 seized hold of a tree and shook it, and 
 shook it again and again, so that there was 
 scarcely a blossom left upon it; he stood 
 there covered all over with the petals. And 
 now he broke out into a scornful laugh. 
 
 " Life shall not vanquish nie ! Nothing ! 
 Not even thou ! Roland, where art thou ? " 
 
 At this instant he saw a white form, with 
 a strange head-covering, glide through the 
 orchard, and vanish behind the trees. What 
 is that ? He rubbed his eyes. Was that a 
 mere fancy, or was it a reality ? 
 
 He went after the apparition. 
 
 " Stop," he cried, *' there are steel-traps 
 there, there's a spring-gun there ! " A wo- 
 man's voice uttered a lamentable shriek. 
 Sonnenkamp went up to her, and Fräulein 
 Milch stood before him. " What do you 
 want here ? What's the matter ? " 
 
 " I wanted the Herr Major." 
 
 " He is still asleep." 
 
 " I may also tell you," Fräulein Milch 
 began, composing herself, " it leaves me no 
 rest." 
 
 " Out with it, — no preliminaries ! " 
 
 Fräulein Milch drew herself up haughtily 
 and said, — 
 
 1 1 If you are in that humor, I can go away 
 as I came." 
 
 "Excuse me, what then do you want?" 
 he asked gently. 
 
 " 1 had a suggestion for you." 
 
 Sonnenkamp composed himself to listen 
 patiently, and nodded to her to go on. She 
 now said that she could not rest, she did 
 not know whether the Major had suggested 
 it. Sonnenkamp broke off impatiently a 
 blossoming twig, and Fräulein Milch con- 
 tinued, — • she thought that the Herr Cap- 
 tain Dournay might perhaps know where 
 Roland Avas ; they ought to telegraph to him. 
 
 Sonnenkamp thanked the old dame with 
 a very obliging smile, and said, exercising 
 great self-command, that he would wake up 
 the Major, and send him into the garden ; 
 but Fräulein Milch begged that he might 
 be allowed to take his sleep quietly. She 
 turned back to her house, and Sonnenkamp 
 walked on through the park. 
 
 The roses had bloomed out -during the 
 night, and from hundreds of stems and 
 bushes sent their fragrance to their owner, 
 but he was not refreshed by it. Here is the 
 park, here are the trees, here is the house, 
 all this can be acquired, can be won. But 
 one thing cannot be won : a life, a child's 
 life, a child's heart, a union of soul with 
 soul, which can never be sundered, and 
 can never come to an end. 
 
 And again came to him that cutting sen- 
 tence, — You have killed the noblest im- 
 pulses in your fellow-men, the feeling of 
 
 father, and mother, and child. Now it is 
 you who suffer ! 
 
 Why does the word of that opponent in 
 the New World hover around him to-day, to- 
 day, as it did yesterday ? Is that terrible 
 man, perchance, on board that boat which 
 is now steaming up the stream in the first 
 morning light ? 
 
 He could not imagine that, at this very 
 moment, the child of this man was speaking 
 to his own child. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 WHAT IS STIRRING BY NIGHT. 
 
 The roses in the garden, and in the 
 youth's soul, all opened during the night. 
 
 To Eric ! Roland's open mouth would 
 have said, but no sound was uttered, he 
 said it only to himself. It was a clear star- 
 light-night, the waning moon, in its third 
 quarter, hung in the heavens, giving a soft 
 light, and Roland was penetrated with such 
 a feeling of gladness, that he often threw 
 out his arms, as if they were wings with 
 which he could easily fly. He went at a 
 quick pace, as if he were pursued ; he 
 heard steps behind him, and stopped; it 
 was only the echo of his own footsteps. 
 
 At a distance a group of men, standing 
 still, were waiting for him. He came nearer ; 
 they were wooden posts, painted black, in- 
 tended to fence in a vineyard. He mod- 
 erated his pace, and would have sung, but 
 he feared to betray himself by any sound. 
 He stood still upon an elevation, and heard 
 far below upon the river the wheezy puffing 
 of a tow-boat ; he saw the lights upon the 
 masts of the boats in tow, and they moved 
 along so wonderfully ! He counted them, 
 and there were seven. 
 
 " They are also awake," he said to him- 
 self, and it occurred to him, for the first 
 time, that people were obliged to be awake, 
 and to labor at night to earn their living, as 
 the engineers there on the tow-boat, the 
 helmsmen, and the boatmen on the boats in 
 tow. 
 
 Why is this ? What forces men to this ? 
 The boy angrily shook his head. Why did 
 this trouble him ? He walked on over the 
 high level plain, and then ascended a hill 
 behind it. He took a childlike pleasure 
 that his shadow accompanied him. He kept 
 always the middle of the road ; the ditches 
 by the wayside looked dismal and haunted. 
 He was startled at the shadows which the 
 trees cast in the light of the moon, and was 
 glad when he came where it was clear and 
 bright. When he drew near to a village, 
 he felt secure, for although everybody was 
 asleep, yet he was in the midst of human 
 
140 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 beings. The boy had been told that, by 
 night, thieves and murderers go about on 
 all the roads to rob and to murder. What 
 did he have about him for them to rob? 
 His watch and chain. He took out his 
 watch, wanting to conceal it. 
 
 " For shame ! " he suddenly cried. He 
 became conscious how afraid he was in the 
 deptli of his soul; he would not be afraid. 
 He boldly summoned up the dangers which 
 he wanted to encounter, rejoiced over them, 
 and cried aloud, — 
 
 "Come on! Here am I, and here is 
 Devil too! Isn't it so, Devil? Just let 
 them come on ! " he said to the dog caress- 
 ingly. The dog leaped up to him. 
 
 He passed through a village. All were 
 asleep, except that here and there a dog 
 barked, scenting Devil's proximity. Roland 
 ordered him to be quiet, and he obeyed. 
 The boy recognized the village as the one 
 where he had been with the doctor and Eric 
 on Sunday ; here was the house where the 
 man had died ; here on the opposite side 
 was the gymnastic ground, where he had 
 exercised with Eric. At last he came to 
 the house of Sevenpiper, where the entire 
 orchestra were now asleep. He stood 
 awhile, considering whether he should not 
 wake up some one in the house, either to 
 go with him, or to be sent to his father. 
 He rejected both suggestions and went on. 
 
 The night was perfectly still ; the only 
 sound was the occasional barking of a dog 
 at a distance, as if disturbed in his sleep. 
 A brook rippled by the wayside, and he was 
 glad to hear its strange sound ; it went as 
 if chatting with him for a while, and then 
 disappeared, and all was silent. He passed 
 through a ravine, where it was so dark 
 from the high trees on both sides that he 
 could not see the path ; quietly composing 
 himself, he went forward, thinking how 
 beautiful it must be there in the clear day- 
 light. He emerged from the ravine, and 
 was rejoiced to be in the highway again. 
 Over the ridge of a mountain shone a star, 
 so large, so brilliant, always going ' up 
 higher, and gleaming so brightly ! Does 
 Manna know what star this is ? 
 
 There Avas a light in the first house of a 
 village; he stopped. He heard voices. 
 The woman inside was mourning and lament- 
 ing, that, on the morrow, her only cow was to 
 be sold. Taking his resolution quickly, Ro- 
 land placed several gold pieces upon the 
 window-sill of the lower room, and knocked 
 on the window-pane, crying, — 
 
 " You people! there is some money for 
 the cow upon the sill." 
 
 He ran breathlessly away, a sort of 
 trouble coming over him, as if he were a 
 
 thief ; he did not stop until he had gone 
 some distance, crouching down in a ditch. 
 He could not tell why he had run from 
 there. As he now lay there and hearkened 
 whether the people followed him, he laughed 
 merrily to himself, to think that it must seem 
 to them to have been some spirit that goes 
 about healing men's sorrows, and making 
 them grateful. No one came. He went 
 on vigorously, happy in the thought of what 
 he had done, and thinking that when he had 
 a great deal of money — as he would have 
 at some time — he would go about secretly 
 in the world, and thus make everybody 
 happy wherever his footsteps went. 
 
 When he fixed his gaze again upon the 
 path, he saw a strange-looking man in the 
 field by the wayside, who was aiming a gun 
 directly at him. Roland, trembling, stood 
 still, and asked the man what he wanted ; 
 the man did not move. Roland set the dog 
 upon him, and the dog came back, shaking 
 his head. Roland went up to the form, and 
 laughed and trembled at the same time, to 
 find that it was nothing but a scarecrow. 
 
 A wagon, groaning under its heavy load, 
 came nearer and nearer. It was a strange 
 creaking and clattering, as the wagon 
 swayed upon its axle, and the wheels grated 
 upon and crushed the stones. Roland came 
 to the conclusion that the wagon had only 
 two wheels, and was drawn by one horse. 
 He kept still, in order to determine this, 
 and then he heard the sound of several 
 hoofs. He awaited the approach of the 
 wagon, and saw that there were two horses 
 harnessed tandem to a wagon with only two 
 wheels. Roland went on one side, and 
 waited for the wagon to go by ; the driver 
 walked near it, whistling and cracking his 
 whip. Roland walked on, keeping at a lit- 
 tle distance behind the wagon. A fearful- 
 ness had taken possession of the youthful 
 wanderer by night, and now he felt himself 
 near a human being who was awake ; if any 
 danger threatened he could call upon him. 
 " Yes," he said inwardly to himself, "this 
 is how I would call out, — 
 
 "'Help! help! 1 " 
 
 But no danger presented itself. And he 
 said to his dog, as if in derision, — 
 
 " Shame that nobody assails us, to give 
 us both a chance to show how courageous 
 we are." 
 
 But he was terrified when all at once he 
 heard nothing more of the wagon ; it had 
 stopped at the toll-gate. When it again 
 creaked he was in good spirits once more. 
 The wagon halted at the first house of the 
 next village. The hostler, who seemed to 
 have been expecting the driver, was not a 
 little amazed to see, by the light of the lan- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE KHINE. 
 
 141 
 
 tern which he had with him, a handsome 
 boy with sparkling eyes. "Hi! who may 
 this be?" the servant cried, leaving his 
 mouth wide open with astonishment and 
 terror, for the great dog sniffed about his 
 legs, then placed himself in front of the 
 terrified fellow, showing all his teeth, and 
 blinking back to his master, as if waiting 
 for the watchword, " Seize him ! " 
 
 Roland ordered the dog to come away. 
 There must have been something in his 
 voice that produced a feeling of respect in 
 the driver and in the servant. 
 
 They asked him whether he would not 
 also take a drink. Roland said yes. And 
 he sat now at table, touching glasses with 
 the teamster by the light of a solitary oil 
 lamp. The servant was inquisitive, and 
 said with a smirk, pointing to Roland's del- 
 icate hand, — 
 
 " That's a splendid finger-ring; how that 
 stone does shine ! That is worth ever so 
 much, isn't it ? You ! make me a present 
 of that. 1 ' 
 
 The landlord, in the sleeping-room ad- 
 joining, hearing this, came in, ghostlike, in 
 his shirt and drawers. Roland was now 
 asked who he was, whence he came, and 
 where he was going. He gave an evasive 
 answer. 
 
 The teamster left, and Roland, keeping 
 by his side, listened to the narration of his 
 way of life. He learned that the wagon was 
 loaded with new stone bottles, which were 
 carried to a neighboring mineral-spring, 
 and thence were sent into all the world, even 
 as far as Holland. Roland was astonished to 
 find how many kinds of occupation were 
 requisite, before the mineral-water was 
 drunk at his father's table. For the team- 
 ster, Holland was the end of the world ; he 
 was amazed when Roland told him that 
 there were many countries, even whole 
 divisions of the earth, much farther off than 
 Holland. The teamster was surprised at 
 Roland's extensive knowledge, and inquired 
 if he had ever been so far away. 
 
 Roland gave an indirect reply. And now 
 the teamster told him that he himself was 
 an honest fellow, that he had earned by 
 hard work everything which he had upon 
 his back, and he would go hungry and beg, 
 before he would get anything by dishonest 
 means. He advised Roland, if he had 
 done anything which made him afraid of 
 being' punished — if perhaps he had stolen 
 the ring — he had better return and give 
 everything up. Roland set the man at 
 rest. 
 
 The road led through a small forest of 
 handsome oak-trees. The screeching of 
 
 an owl was heard, sounding like a mocking 
 laugh. 
 
 " Thank God," said the teamster, " that 
 you are with me ; did you hear that 
 laugh ? " 
 
 " That is no laugh, that was a screech- 
 owl." 
 
 "Yes, screech-owl. — that's the laughing 
 spirit." 
 
 " The laughing-spirit ? Tell me what 
 that is." 
 
 4 ' Yes ; my mother heard it once in broad 
 daylight, when she was just a little girl. 
 The children were at one time out there 
 in the wood, to get acorns. You perhaps 
 know that they shake down the acorns 
 and place a white cloth under the tree, and 
 catch them in that ; it makes the best food 
 for hogs. Well, the children are in the 
 woods on a fine afternoon in autumn, the 
 boys get up into the tree and shake down 
 the acorns, and there is such a rattling ! 
 Then they hear, all at once, in the thicket a 
 loud laugh. 'What is that?' — * O,' says 
 my mother, * that is a spirit. ' What ! ' 
 says a saucy fellow there, ' if it's a spirit, 
 then I will just for once take a look at 
 him.' He goes into the thicket, and when 
 he once gets into the thicket, there sits a 
 mighty little dwarf upon a tree-stump ; his 
 head is almost bigger than his whole body, 
 he is gray all over, and he has a long gray 
 beard. And the boy asks, 4 Is't you that 
 laughed so ? ' * Nobody else,' says the 
 dwarf, and laughs once more, exactly as 
 before. * You have shaken down the 
 acorns, but there is one fallen down under the 
 cloth, deep into the moss, that you will not 
 find, and out of that acorn will grow up a 
 tree, and when it is large enough it will be 
 cut down, and out of one part of the boards 
 a cradle will be made, and out of the other 
 part a door, and a child will be laid in the 
 cradle, and when that child shall open that 
 door for the first time, I shall be released. 
 Until that time I must wander about, be- 
 cause I have been a forest-trepasser, and 
 lived on dishonest means.' The little 
 dwarf laughs again, and then vanishes 
 into the tree-stump. Since then he's been 
 heard many a time, but nobody's seen him 
 again. Everybody knows the oak-tree in 
 the forest, but no one disturbs it." 
 
 Roland shuddered. He did not believe 
 in the story, but he gave attention while 
 the teamster continued to relate to him 
 how hard it was to get rid of possessions 
 dishonestly acquired. 
 
 Gradually it began to be twilight. Ro- 
 land extended his hand to the teamster, and 
 bade him good-bye, as he wished to stay 
 
142 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 here and wait awhile. The teamster seated 
 himself upon the wagon-shafts, and fixed 
 himself comfortably, as it was now day, 
 and he could doze a little. 
 
 The boy sat down upon a pile of stones, 
 gazing into vacancy, and listening to the 
 gradual dying away in the distance of the 
 rattling and creaking wagon. For the first 
 time in his life, he represented to himself 
 in imagination the way in which a human 
 being lives. He saw, as in a dream, the 
 teamster arriving at his place of destina- 
 tion, he saw him lying in the shed upon the 
 bundle of hay which he afterwards threw to 
 his horses. 
 
 Roland had never yet been so alone, so 
 without attendance, so conscious that no 
 one could call to him ; it seemed that he 
 now saw, for the first time, the world and 
 all that is in it. He followed the path of 
 a little beetle, which crept swiftly along 
 the ground and scrambled up a stalk. 
 
 Incomprehensible- thoughts were stirring 
 in his youthful spirit. What an infinite 
 fulness of existence is the world ! In the 
 hedges of wild roses, just opening their 
 buds by the roadside, sat motionless bee- 
 tles and insects of all kinds, and a g»eat 
 buzzing and humming came from one open 
 flower-cup to another. Here had beetles, 
 butterflies, flies, and spiders spent the 
 night, and the well-roofed snails were 
 quietly housed upon the twigs. 
 
 He saw a field-mouse come out of its 
 hole ; first it remained resting upon the 
 edge, listening, looking round, moving its 
 chaps, and finally it slipped out, and 
 quickly disappeared into another hole 
 among the grass. A variegated beetle, in 
 the early morning, ran across the field- 
 path, fearing the public road, and feeling 
 perfectly safe only among the thicket of 
 the grain. 
 
 A hare ran out, and Devil sprang after 
 him; Roland involuntarily felt at his side 
 to seize hold of his gun. 
 
 As if emerging from beneath the surface 
 of an overwhelming floo(J of impressions, 
 Roland rose up. The sun had risen ; he 
 could not endure its splendor, and with 
 eyes fixed upon the ground he went on. 
 But his step'lagged, for a voice spoke in 
 him : — 
 
 " Turn back to father and mother ! " But 
 suddenly he cried aioud, — 
 " Eric!" 
 
 " Eric ! " was repeated again in multiple 
 echoes, and Roland walked on now, as if 
 called by the mountains themselves. It 
 seemed to him, not as if he walked, but as 
 if lie were lifted up and carried along. The 
 night without sleep, the wine, all that he had 
 
 experienced, excited his imagination, and it 
 seemed as if he must now meet with some- 
 thing which no one else had ever met with — 
 something inexpressible, incomprehensible, 
 miraculous. He looked round, expecting 
 to see it; something must certainly come to 
 him and say, " For thee have I waited; art 
 thou here at last ? " And as he thus looked 
 round, he noticed that the dog had left him. 
 The wood yonder was near, the dog had 
 evidently run after a hare or a wild rabbit. 
 Roland whistled, he wished to call aloud, 
 " Devil ! Devil ! " but he did not utter the 
 word. He called the old name, " Griffin ! " 
 The dog bounded towards him, his tongue 
 lolling from his mouth ; he was wet with the 
 dew of the corn-field through which he had 
 run. Roland found it difficult to keep the 
 dog off, for he seemed perfectly happy to 
 have his name again ; he looked up intelli- 
 gently, panting quickly. 
 
 "Yes, your name is Griffin!" Roland 
 cried to him. "Now down!" The dog 
 kept close to his feet. 
 
 As the road now led through the forest, 
 Roland turned aside, and laid himself down 
 on the moss under a fir-tree ; the birds 
 sang over his head, and the cuckoo called. 
 The dog sat near him, and seemed almost 
 jealous that Roland did not vouchsafe him 
 a single glance. Roland parted his jaws, 
 and took delight in the magnificent teeth ; 
 then he said, — his own hunger might have 
 made him think of it, — 
 
 " The next place we come to where there's 
 a butcher, you shall have a sausage." 
 
 The dog licked his chaps, jumped round 
 and round as if he understood the words, 
 chased the crows which were that early look- 
 ing for their food in the field, and barked at 
 the rising sun. 
 
 The tired boy was soon asleep ; the dog 
 placed himself by his side, but he knew his 
 duty, and did not lie down ; he remained 
 sitting, and resisted sleep. Occasionally he 
 winked, however, as if it were hard work 
 to keep his weary eyes open ; then he shook 
 his head, and kept faithful watch by his mas- 
 ter. Suddenly Roland awoke. A child's . 
 voice awakened him. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 
 Roland rubbed his eyes ; before him 
 stood a child, a little girl in a snow-white 
 dress and blue sash. Her face was rosy, 
 great blue eyes beamed out from it, and 
 long golden curls hung loose over her neck. 
 In her hand she held a bunch of wild-flow- 
 ers. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 143 
 
 Griffin stood in front of the child, and 
 kept her from coming nearer. 
 
 "Back, Griffin! 1 ' cried Roland, rising; 
 the dog fell behind his master. 
 
 "This is the German forest ! 11 said the 
 child with a foreign accent, and a voice that 
 might belong to a princess in a fairy tale. 
 " This is the German forest ! I have only- 
 been gathering flowers. Are you the forest 
 prince ? " 
 
 " No, but who are you ? " 
 
 " I have come from America. My uncle 
 brought me here this morning, and now I 
 am to stay in Germany." 
 
 " Come, Lilian ! Where are you staying 
 so long?" cried a man's voice from the 
 road. 
 
 Roland saw through the trees an open 
 carriage, and a tall, stately gentleman with 
 snow-white hair. 
 
 "I'm coining directly," answered the 
 child ; "I have some beautiful flowers." 
 
 " Here, take this one from me," said 
 Roland, gathering a full-blown lily of the 
 valley. 
 
 The little girl threw down all the flowers 
 which she held, took Roland's, cried, 
 " Good-bye," and ran to the carriage. The 
 man lifted her in as she pointed back to the 
 wood ; the carriage rolled away, and Ro- 
 land stood once more alone. 
 
 Whoever could then have looked down 
 from the vault of heaven would have seen 
 a marvel, for at the very moment when the 
 child was talking with Roland, Sonnenkamp 
 stood on the terrace, lost in thoughts which 
 made him shiver in the frosty morning air. 
 
 Roland pressed his hand to his brow. 
 Had it really happened, or had he only 
 dreamed ? He still heard the roll of the car- 
 riage in the distance, and the plucked flow- 
 ers on the ground bore witness that he was 
 living in the actual world. But had the 
 child really said that she was from America? 
 Why had he not followed her then ? Why 
 had he not spoken to the old man ? And 
 now no one could tell him who they were, 
 and whither the child had gone. 
 
 For a while Roland gazed at the flowers 
 before him, but picked up none of them. 
 Griffin barked at him, as if to say, Yes, 
 and men assert that there are no more mir- 
 acles ! He sniffed round the gathered flow- 
 ers, then ran off on the track of the child 
 and of the carriage, as if he wished to fulfil 
 his master's desire to detain the people, 
 that he might talk with them. Roland 
 whistled and called him ; Griffin came, and 
 Roland reproved him : — 
 
 "You don't deserve to have any sausage, 
 you are so unfaithful." 
 
 Griffin lay down beseechingly at his feet ; 
 
 he could not explain how good his intention 
 had been. 
 
 " Well, now we will go," said Roland. 
 And they took up their march again. 
 
 He heard the whistle of a locomotive in 
 the distance, and went in that direction. 
 The wood was soon passed, and the road 
 led again through vineyards. On a side- 
 path Roland saw several women carrying 
 powdered slate, from a great heap, into a 
 newly-planted vineyard. On its border, 
 near a hedge, burned a fire, close to which 
 stood pots, whose contents an old woman 
 was stirring with a dry bough. Roland 
 stopped, and the old woman called out to 
 ask him to join them ; he went up to the 
 group, an<J saw that coffee was boiling. 
 The other women, .young and old, came 
 nearer, and there was much jesting and 
 laughter. They turned their baskets up 
 and sat upon them ; such a seat was also 
 prepared for Roland, and a sort of cushion 
 placed upon it, as they asked him whether 
 he were not a prince. Roland answered, 
 no ; but it flattered him to be taken for a 
 prince in this way ; he was very condescend- 
 ing, and knew how to joke with his compan- 
 ions. An old vine-dresser, the director of 
 the work, told Roland, whom he held in 
 some regard as being of the masculine gen- 
 der, that he drank no coffee : it was a stu- 
 pid custom, which sent money out of the 
 country to America, never to come baek. 
 
 Roland was struck by this second mention 
 of America. The whole party listened at- 
 tentively when he told them that it was not 
 coffee, but sugar, which came from America. 
 
 "And our sugar," said the old woman, 
 " has all staid in America, for we haven't 
 any." 
 
 The first cup, and the cream off the milk, 
 were given to Roland, with a bit of black 
 bread. He wished to give the people some- 
 thing in payment, but now discovered that 
 he had not his porte-monnaie about him. 
 He knew that he had had it in the inn ; the 
 knavish-looking hostler must certainly have 
 stolen it from him. He soon overcame his 
 trouble about the lost money, however, and 
 told the people that, some time or other, he 
 would show kindness to a stranger, in re- 
 turn for what he had received. 
 
 He wandered on. He had learned what 
 it was to enjoy the kindness and bounty of 
 poor men, now that he was himself poor and 
 helpless ; that was his best experience. 
 
 The world is beautiful and men are good, 
 even if a hostler could not resist a well-filled 
 purse. With these cheering thoughts, he 
 went on his way and soon reached the rail- 
 way-station. He had. carefully avoided any 
 of the nearer stations, where he was known 
 
144 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 and might easily be traced ; he wished, after 
 making a circuit, to take the cars at a dis- 
 tant point. 
 
 Here Roland was accosted, like an old 
 acquaintance, by a man in worn-out clothes, 
 and with one boot and one old slipper on 
 his feet. 
 
 44 ( iood-morning, my dear Baron ! good- 
 morning ! 11 cried this shabby-looking per- 
 sonage, coining close up to him. 
 
 It was doubly disagreeable in this fresh 
 morning, after such a night, to come within 
 the atmosphere of this man so impregnated 
 with brandy, who was excessively confiding 
 in his manner towards Roland. A railway 
 official, in the most polite manner, begged 
 the half-drunken fellow to leave the travel- 
 ler in peace ; he nodded knowingly to Ro- 
 land from a distance, as if there were some 
 important secret between them. Roland 
 learned that the man belonged to a respected 
 family of the nobility : his relations had 
 wished to help him, and had made him an 
 annual allowance, but it was of no use. 
 Now he was boarding with a baggage-mas- 
 ter, and his whole amusement was in the 
 railroad. Every one showed him due re- 
 spect, because he was a baron, and very 
 much to be pitied. 
 
 Roland shrank from the man as if he were 
 a ghost. The excitement of the night, and 
 of all which he had been through, was still 
 affecting him, yet the thought was present 
 to him how strange it was that a half- 
 witted, half-intoxicated man should be so 
 respectfully treated, simply because he was 
 a baron. 
 
 Roland succeeded in borrowing money 
 for his journey from the restorator at the 
 station, "with whom he left his diamond ring 
 in pawn. He bought a ticket for the uni- 
 versity-town, and at last took his seat in the 
 car, where he could not refrain from saying 
 to a fellow-passenger, — 
 
 '* Ah ! it. is good that we are off." 
 
 His neighbor stared at him ; he could not 
 know how happy it made the sorely weary 
 boy, to be carried along towards Eric with- 
 out any effort of his own. 
 
 44 Where lies your way, Herr Baron ? " 
 asked the neighbor, 
 
 Roland named his destination, but looked 
 in surprise at the man who called him Baron ; 
 had he become one in the course of the 
 night? At a junction, where a new set of 
 officials took charge of the train, his neigh- 
 bor, who was leaving it, said to one of 
 them, — 
 
 " Attend to the young Baron, who is 
 sitting there. 11 
 
 Roland was pleased to be so called, and 
 a peculiar feeling came over him of the sat- 
 
 isfaction one must have in being really a 
 baron ; then one would have a lasting title 
 with lasting honors in the world. The 
 thought only passed through his mind, and 
 quickly vanished, as he began directly to 
 imagine Eri^s pleasure at seeing him ; his 
 face glowed with impatience and longing. 
 
 Suddenly a painful thought struck him. 
 Where had he left the dog ? He had quite 
 lost or forgotten him. But on rolled the 
 cars through valleys, cuts, and tunnels, and 
 it seemed to Roland a year, since he left his 
 home. 
 
 Not far from the university, where the 
 road ao;ain divided, some students entered 
 the train. They soon let their fellow-pas- 
 sengers understand that they had performed 
 the great exploit of drinking a May-bowl 
 at their fathers 1 expense : for anybody could 
 drink native wine. They had also brought 
 some provision into the car, and in their 
 generosity or their ostentation they wanted 
 Roland to drink with them, but he declined 
 with as much modesty as decision. 
 
 Twilight had gathered when they reached 
 the university-town. 
 
 Roland asked for Doctor Dournay ; one 
 of the students, a fine-looking youth who 
 had kept aloof from the noisy party, told 
 him to come with him, as he lived near the 
 widow of the professor. As Roland went 
 with him, a strange fear came upon him : 
 what if he could not find Eric? or if Eric 
 would have nothing more to do with him ? 
 How much might have happened since they 
 parted ! 
 
 With beating heart he ascended the steep, 
 dark, wooden staircase. At the top, the 
 door of a room opened, and at the door 
 stood a woman, who asked, — 
 
 " Whom do you wish to see ? 11 
 
 " The Herr Captain Dournay." 
 
 " He is away from home. 11 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A NEW SOX. 
 
 Rolaxd asked to be allowed to come in 
 and wait, and was led into the sitting-room ; 
 the servant maid told him that Eric had 
 gone to the capital, but might possibly re- 
 turn that day. His mother had gone to the 
 grave of a son, of whose death this was the 
 anniversary. The maid went out to light 
 the lamp, and Roland was alone in the 
 room where the twilight shadows gathered ; 
 he sat in the corner of a sofa, weary, and 
 his mind full of varied thoughts. 
 
 Wonderful ! there are so many human 
 dwellings in the world, -one can enter them, 
 and all at once one is seated in a strange 
 house. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 145 
 
 Outside, in accordance with an old cus- 
 tom, there sounded from the tower a choral, 
 played by trumpets. Roland dreamed of 
 the outer world, no longer conscious where 
 he was, but remembering only that he had 
 once travelled through many countries and 
 towns, and that everywhere in the houses 
 lived men, who led their own lives, of which 
 other people knew nothing. 
 
 Eric's mother entered. She stopped at 
 the door, as Roland rose, saying, — 
 
 " Good-evening, mother. 1 ' 
 
 Stretching out her arms, the mother 
 cried, — 
 
 14 In Heaven's name, Hermann — thou ? " 
 "My name is not Hermann. I am Ro- 
 land." 
 
 The mother approached him trembling ; 
 just then the aunt came in with a light, and 
 all was explained. Roland said that he 
 had followed Eric, because he wished never 
 to leave»him. The mother kissed him, weep- 
 ing and sobbing. 
 
 Steps were heard on the stairs, and Eric 
 entered. Roland had no strength to rise 
 from his seat as Eric exclaimed, — 
 
 14 You — here ! " 
 
 Roland could hardly utter the words to 
 explain what he had done. He stared 
 wildly at Eric, who stood before him like a 
 stranger, without even holding out his hand. 
 As soon as Roland had finished speaking, 
 Eric said sternly, — 
 
 "If you were my son, I would punish 
 you severely for your self-will, and the anx- 
 iety you have caused your family." 
 
 "You may punish me, I will not stir. 
 No one in the world could punish me like 
 you ; you do not punish like " 
 
 The beating of his heart prevented his 
 finishing what he was about to say, and 
 perhaps also an aversion to complaining of 
 his father restrained him. He had forgotten 
 till now what had last incited him to run 
 away, and only remembered the longing for 
 Eric; now he looked around him, as if he 
 saw his father's upraised hand in the air. 
 
 The mother took him again into her 
 arms, saying, — 
 
 44 Your willingness to bear punishment 
 atones for and washes out everything." 
 
 44 Stay here with my mother," said Eric, 
 sternly ; "I will come back directly." 
 
 He hurried out, and sent a telegram to 
 Herr Sonnenkamp, with the inquiry whether 
 he would come for Roland, or wished to 
 have him brought home. 
 
 When Eric returned, he found Roland 
 already asleep on the sofa. He was tired 
 out, and it was with great difficulty that 
 they could awaken him to be put to bed. 
 Eric sat a long time with his mother, talk- 
 
 ing of the wonderful manner in which fate 
 seemed playing with them. 
 
 His mother related how, as she came 
 from the churchyard, the painful thought- 
 had oppressed her that even she, his own 
 mother, could not quite recall how Her- 
 mann had looked. She could bring his face 
 to mind, because it was preserved in the 
 photograph which hung, in its frame of im- 
 mortelles, just over her sewing-machine in 
 the bay-window. But Hermann's motions, 
 his gait, his way of throwing back his head 
 with its thick brown hair, of laughing, jest- 
 ing, and caressing ; the sound of his voice, 
 the low, dove-like laugh, — all. these had 
 vanished from her — his mother. So she 
 had walked on, with downcast eyes, often 
 stopping, as she tried hard to call up the im- 
 age of the lost one. So she had come home, 
 and here came to meet her a form like 
 Hermann, and it had cried out to her, — 
 " Good-evening, mother ! " in his very tone. 
 She could not tell why she had not fainted, 
 and she spoke now of Roland with the same 
 delight which Eric had felt when he saw 
 him for the first time. 
 
 Eric, on his side, told her of the reasons 
 for and against undertaking the school, and 
 then of the Minister's offer. He would 
 there enter a position which his father had 
 not reached, and which would, perhaps, 
 have saved his life. The idea of receiving 
 an appointment by inheritance, and through 
 favor, without any merit of his own, op- 
 pressed him somewhat. 
 
 His mother soothed both these scruples, 
 which were really one, and quite uncalled 
 for, as he had the right to collect the debt 
 which was due to his father, and still more 
 if it was over due. 
 
 Very lightly she touched upon the good 
 fortune of the nobility, in being able to re- 
 ceive what had been stored up by past gen- 
 erations, and to hand it down to future de- 
 scendants. With a slightly jesting tone she 
 said, — 
 
 44 Our professor of political economy 
 used to say that capital was accumulated 
 labor; so family standing is nothing but 
 accumulated honor. '' 
 
 There were times, though they were rare, 
 when the mother, from the standpoint of 
 her inherited opinions and habits, saw in 
 many of the sentiments and views of the 
 burgher class an obstinate and perverse in- 
 dependence which she could not approve. 
 In her husband this had rarely and slightly 
 shown itself, but in Eric it was more active ; 
 he had that haughty self-reliance which 
 makes a man unwilling to thank any one 
 but himself for his position and power. 
 
 She had never repented leaving her own 
 
146 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 class to marry her husband, she had been 
 too happy for that ; but she saw in Eric's 
 position something like a grievous conse- 
 quence of her own act. Moved by these 
 thoughts, which she never expressed, she 
 said, — 
 
 "I can easily understand how you feel 
 drawn to this American ; there is the great- 
 est honor in being a self-made man. Let 
 us unite the two plans then. You can 
 bring it about, since the boy is in your 
 hands, that the American shall entrust him 
 to you, and you can at the same time main- 
 tain an independent position. 1 ' 
 
 Eric replied that his objection to the 
 situation did not consist simply in his re- 
 ceiving it as a favor ; the task of conducting 
 foreign visitors of princely rank through 
 the art-collections was distasteful to him ; 
 he did not think that he could conform him- 
 self to it. 
 
 Suddenly his mother remembered that a 
 letter had come for him, and she gave it to 
 him. It was from Clod wig. The noble 
 man placed at Eric's disposal twice the sum 
 that he had asked for. Eric was made 
 happy by this news, and his mother nodded 
 with hearty assent when he said that the 
 gift rejoiced him, but still more did the as- 
 surance that his confidence in men had met 
 with so glorious a confirmation. 
 
 Midnight was past, and mother and son 
 still sat together. Eric begged his mother 
 to go to bed and leave him to wait for Son- 
 nenkamp's reply. He sat long alone in the 
 night, thinking over all which had- passed, 
 till sleep overcame him. 
 
 In the spirits of men, as well as in the 
 history of nations, thoughts and sentiments 
 are formed which are to be brought into 
 action from their own free will, when sud- 
 denly there comes an over-mastering fact, 
 which converts the free choice into an inev- 
 itable necessity. Thus Eric's entrance into 
 Sonnenkamp's household seemed to have 
 been made an unavoidable necessity by 
 Roland's rash step. 
 
 Eric went again, with scarcely audible 
 steps, into the boy's room. So wholly was 
 his spirit turned toward him that the sleep- 
 ing child moaned, "Eric," but soon, turning 
 over, slept soundly again. 
 
 Eric went back to the sitting-room, and 
 then it first occurred to him that there was 
 no night-watch at the telegraph office in Son- 
 nenkamp's neighborhood; the father could 
 not receive the news till morning. Eric 
 also now went to bed. 
 
 Everything was late in the house of the 
 professor's wife the next morning ; Eric 
 slept longest. When he entered the sit- 
 ting-room, he found Roland already with 
 
 his mother, holding a small wooden coffee- 
 mill in his left hand and turning it with his 
 right. This mill was an heir-loom which 
 had belonged to Eric's grandfather, who 
 had been a distinguished anatomist at the 
 university. The mother had already told 
 Roland this, and had shown him all sorts 
 of ancient household furniture, also relics 
 of the times of the Huguenots. 
 
 " Ah, how pleasant it is here with you ! " 
 cried Roland to Eric, as he entered. 
 
 Something of long-established family ex- 
 istence opened upon the young spirit, and, 
 at this morning hour, with the friendly eyes 
 of three people resting upon him, Roland 
 felt very content in the simple, old-fash- 
 ioned, domestic life. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 AN EXTRA TRAIN. 
 
 " I've been through a great deal, but 
 that I should ever be obliged to go through 
 this ! If we can only come out of this with 
 a whole skin ! This may be called a wanton 
 exposure of one's life — and one has no 
 weapons of defence." 
 
 Such were the Major's words, stammered 
 out at intervals, as he held on to a tassel of 
 a first-class railway car, and looked sorrow- 
 fully at the dog Laadi lying at his feet, 
 while he was travelling with Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp in an extra train. Herr Sonnenkamp 
 appeared to feel a joy in this mad speed. 
 
 " In America," he said, " they go three 
 times as fast in an extra train." 
 
 He seemed to experience a secret satis- 
 faction in showing the Major that there was 
 a courage wholly different from that of the 
 battle-field, which he possessed and the 
 Major did not. He had accounts to tell of 
 trips made in America on wagers. And 
 when they stopped to take in water, Son- 
 nenkamp took leave of the Major, saying 
 that he was going to ride on the locomo- 
 tive, for he must try once more how that 
 seemed. 
 
 The Major sat with Laadi alone in the 
 only car attached to the locomotive; he 
 stared fixedly out of the window, where 
 trees, mountains, and villages flew by like 
 a whirlwind, and he thanked God that Fräu- 
 lein Milch knew nothing of his consenting 
 to make such a mad trip with Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp on an extra train. 
 
 And why is this man in such a hurry ? 
 The Major does not understand it. Some- 
 times he was stingy about a kreuzer, and so 
 very modest that he wished to make no show 
 and to excite no observation, and then 
 again he was very lavish with his money, 
 and did everr thing to attract people's at- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 147 
 
 tention. The Major did not understand 
 the man. He must certainly have been a 
 locomotive-driver ; and what is there that 
 he may not have been ! 
 
 "Yes, Laadi," exclaimed he, speaking to 
 the dog, " come, lie down by me. Yes, 
 Laadi ; neither of us could ever dream of 
 going through this ! If we only once do 
 get through it ! Yes, Laadi, she will mourn 
 for you too if we are killed." 
 
 The dog growled away to himself; he 
 must have been full of wrath also at the 
 fool-hardy Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Madder and madder was the speed : down 
 they went over descending grades near the 
 river, and the Major expected every instant 
 that the locomotive would run off the track, 
 and the passenger-car be dashed in pieces 
 and tumbled into the stream. Yes, there 
 came over him such a settled fear, or rather 
 expectation, of immediate death, that he 
 braced his feet against the back of the 
 seat, and thought to himself, — 
 
 " Well, death, come ! God be praised, I 
 have never harmed anybody in the world, 
 and Fräulein Milch has been cared for, so 
 that she will never suffer need." 
 
 Tears wet his closed eyes, and he made 
 a strange face in order to stifle his tears ; 
 he was unwilling to die, and then, too, when 
 there was no need of it. He opened his 
 eyes with rage, and doubled up his fists ; 
 this extra train is wholly unnecessary ; 
 Roland was known to be in good hands. 
 But this man is such a savage ! 
 
 The Major was very angry with Sonnen- 
 kamp, and yet more with himself, for being 
 drawn into any such mad freak. All his 
 heroic mood was gone, he was wholly un- 
 reconciled to the position, he had been 
 duped, this was not fit for him. Fräulein 
 Milch is right ; he is weak, he cannot say 
 no. 
 
 Whenever he looked out he became dizzy. 
 He found a lucky expedient ; he placed 
 himself so as to ride backwards. There 
 one sees only what has been gone over, and 
 not what is coming. But neither does this 
 do any good ; it is even more terrible than 
 before, for one sees now the bold, short 
 curves which the road makes, and the cars 
 incline on one side as if to plunge over. 
 And now tears actually flow out of the Ma- 
 jor's eyes. He thought of the funeral ser- 
 vice which the lodge would perforin for him 
 after he was dead ; he heard the organ-peal, 
 and the dirges, saying to himself, — 
 
 " You eulogize me more than I deserve, 
 but I have been a good brother. The 
 Builder of all the worlds is my witness that 
 I meant to be." 
 
 The car rolled on at a more measured 
 
 I speed, and the Major consoled himself with 
 the thought that no accident had ever yet 
 happened on this road. But no, he went 
 on thinking, perhaps one would be safer on 
 a road where some accident has already 
 happened ; the people here are too careless, 
 and thou must be the first victim. Which 
 would Fräulein Milch consider the more 
 dangerous, a road which had already expe- 
 rienced mishaps, or one like this, that has 
 now to meet with them for the first time ? 
 I must take care to put the question to her. 
 Don't forget it, Laadi, we must ask her. 
 He had now overcome all fear, and he be- 
 came so free and cheerful that he ridiculed 
 his own apprehensions, thinking that the 
 millionaire on the locomotive had a much 
 greater stake involved, putting his life in 
 peril, and that he would not do it if there 
 were any real danger. 
 
 The dog must have scented out the peril 
 of the rapid journey, for she was in a con- 
 tinual tremble, and looked up appealingly 
 to her master. 
 
 " Thou art a lady, and thou art afraid," 
 said the Major, addressing her. " Take 
 courage ! Thou art not so faint-hearted. 
 Come! so — so — get up into my lap. 
 Clean enough, clean enough," he said, 
 smilingly, as the dog licked his hand. 
 
 And from the midst of his anguish, the 
 Major was already pleasing himself with 
 the thought, how, in a few days, in the 
 quiet arbor in his garden, he will teil Fräu- 
 lein Milch of the imminent peril. He 
 caressed Laadi, and rehearsed to himself 
 the whole story of the impending danger. 
 
 They arrived at the station where the 
 road branches off to the university-town. 
 Here they are told that no extra train could 
 be furnished, as there was only one track. 
 They must wait an hour for the next regu- 
 lar train. 
 
 Sonnenkamp stormed and scolded over 
 these dawdling Europeans, who did not 
 know how to put a railroad to its proper 
 use ; he had arranged, indeed, by telegram 
 for a clear track. But it was of no use. 
 The Major stood at the station, and thanked 
 the Builder of all the worlds that all was 
 so unalterably fixed. He went away from 
 the river, and saluted the cornfields, where 
 the standing corn, in its silent growth, 
 allowed itself to be in no way disturbed 
 out of its orderly repose ; he rejoiced to 
 hear, for the first time this season, the 
 whistling of the quail, who has no home in 
 the vineyard region ; and he gazed at the 
 larks singing as they flew up to heaven. 
 
 A train had come into the station and 
 stopped. The Major heard men's voices 
 singing finely, and he learned that many 
 
148 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 persons, who wore already seated in the 
 cars, were emigrating to America. He 
 saw mothers weeping, fathers beckoning, 
 and while the locomotive was puffing at the 
 station, many village youths stood on the 
 platform together, in a group, and sang 
 farewell songs to their departing comrades. 
 They sang with voices full of emotion, but 
 they kept good time. 
 
 '* It will rejoice Fräulein Milch when I 
 relate this to her," thought the Major, 
 and he mingled among those who remained 
 behind, giving them words of consolation ; 
 he went to the emigrants and exhorted them 
 to continue good Germans in America. In 
 the midst of his weeping, an old man 
 cried : — 
 
 " What are you waiting for? make it go 
 ahead ! " 
 
 The rest scolded the man for his rude- 
 ness, but the Major said, — 
 
 "Don't take it ill of him, he cannot do 
 differently, he is too miserable." The old 
 man nodded to the Major, and all the rest 
 looked at him in surprise. 
 
 In the mean while, the train arrived which 
 was to carry those going on the branch 
 road. 
 
 "Herr Major! Herr Major!" shrieked 
 the employes of the road from various quar- 
 ters. They had great difficulty in bringing 
 the Major over to the other side of the 
 train. 
 
 " One might almost envy you, you are 
 such a child ; you allow yourself to be dis- 
 tracted by every occurrence on the way, 
 and to be drawn away from your destina- 
 tion like a child." 
 
 " Yes, yes, 11 laughed the Major — he had 
 recovered his broad laugh — "Fraulein 
 Milch often tells me that. 11 " 
 
 He told Sonnenkamp of the affecting 
 parting of the emigrants and their friends, 
 but Sonnenkamp seemed to have no inter- 
 est in it. Even when the Major said that 
 the Freemasons had taken all pains to 
 block the game of the kidnappers who 
 cheated the emigrants, even then, Herr 
 Sonnenkamp remained speechless. The 
 Major sat by him in silence. 
 
 They reached the university-town. No 
 one was there to receive them, and 
 Sonnenkamp was very indignant. 
 
 The family of the professor's wife were at 
 breakfast. Roland drank his coffee out of 
 the cup which had Hermann's name upon 
 it, and Eric said that they must be at the 
 station in an hour, since Herr Sonnenkamp 
 would probably come by the express train: 
 it was not to be supposed that he would 
 come by the accommodation train, which 
 had no connection with the West. Just as 
 
 Eric was saying this, there was -a knock; 
 the Major walked in first, and after him, 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " Here is our devil of a boy ! " cried the 
 Major. " Here is the deserter himself! " 
 
 The awkwardness of the first interview 
 was thus removed. Roland sat immovable 
 upon his chair ; Eric went to meet Sonnen- 
 kamp : he turned then to the boy, and or- 
 dered him to ask his father's forgiveness 
 for what he had done. Roland complied. 
 
 The mother prayed Herr Sonnenkamp 
 not to punish the boy for his wilfulness. 
 His father replied, good-humoredly, that, 
 on the contrary, this bold stroke of the boy 
 gave him particular delight ; he showed 
 courage, resolution, and self-guidance : he 
 would rather reward him for it. Roland 
 looked at his father in amazement, then 
 grasped his hand and held it fast. 
 
 Eric requested his mother and aunt to 
 retire with Roland to the study, and he re- 
 mained with the Major and Sonnenkamp. 
 Sonnenkamp expressed his satisfaction and 
 gratitude to Eric, who must certainly be 
 familiar with magic, to have so bewitched 
 his son that he could not live apart from 
 him. 
 
 "Do you think so?" Eric asked. "I 
 must express to you my astonishment." 
 
 " Your astonishment ? " 
 
 "Yes; I have, I am sorry to say, no 
 talent at all of that sort, but I may be per- 
 mitted to say that I almost envy those who 
 can accomplish such things." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked inquiringly at Eric, 
 who continued : — 
 
 "It is a master-stroke of pedagogical 
 science that you have effected. I see now 
 that you have declined my service in Ro- 
 land^ hearing, in order to induce him to 
 act from his own free-will ; this will bring 
 him under my influence as nothing else 
 would be likely to do." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked amazed. Is this 
 man making fun of him? Does he wish to 
 ridicule him, or, by means of this refined 
 policy, to get the better of him still far- 
 ther? This would be a touch of diplomacy 
 of the highest order. Pranken is probably 
 right, and Eric is a wily trickster under the 
 mask of honest plainness. Well, let it be 
 so. Sonnenkamp whistled to himself in his 
 inaudible way ; he would appear not to see 
 through Eric. He let it be understood that 
 he had played a nice game with Roland, 
 and he smiled when the Major cried : — 
 
 " Frauleiri Milch saidso — ye§, she under- 
 stand everybody, and she has said,* — Herr 
 Eric, he is the man who sees clear through 
 Herr Sonnenkamp's policy. Yes, yes, that 
 is a whole extra train of smartness." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 149 
 
 Sonnenkamp continued smiling depreca- 
 tingly and gratefully, but his astonish- 
 ment was renewed, when Eric now made 
 the declaration, — 
 
 " Unfortunately, life itself is so self- 
 willed, that, the best-laid logical chain is cut 
 in two ; I find myself obliged, on my part, 
 to decline positively your friendly offer." 
 
 Sonnenkamp again whistled inaudibly. 
 
 Another stroke of diplomacy, then ! He 
 could not grasp him ; the antagonist has 
 enticed his foe out of his stronghold ; 
 Sonnenkamp joined battle in the open field. 
 Eric related that he had the offer of acting 
 director in the Cabinet of Antiquities, with 
 the promise of a permanent appointment. 
 
 " That's it," nodded the Major to him- 
 self, "that's it, screw him, make terms for 
 yourself, as a singer does who is in de- 
 mand ; you can have your own price, they 
 must give you all you ask." 
 
 But the Major's look suddenly changed, 
 when Eric continued, — 
 
 " From your practical American stand- 
 point you would certainly approve of my 
 refusal, if that were necessary, in order to 
 attain higher conditions, whether internal 
 or external, of my own freedom. But I tell 
 you frankly, that I have no motive for this 
 refusal, except the duty of gratitude towards 
 my patron." 
 
 Sonnenkamp answered, assentingly, — 
 
 "I am very far from desiring to interfere 
 at all with your plan of life. I regret to be 
 obliged to give it up, but I give it up." 
 
 " Yes," interposed the Major, " you give 
 it up, and he declines. That's no go. The 
 youth, what is he going to do ? What be- 
 comes of him ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp and Eric regarded the Ma- 
 jor in silence, who uttered the decisive 
 words, — " What becomes of Roland ? " 
 
 Eric was the first to collect himself, and 
 requested that Sonnenkamp would commit 
 his son to hi in for a year at the capital ; for 
 he himself must acknowledge that he should 
 no longer be happy or at rest, until he could 
 expend his best energies for the boy, in 
 order to establish him in a noble career in 
 life ; and that it would be the best plan for 
 Roland also to be' brought up in the com- 
 panionship of others, and he would see to it 
 that he had good companions. 
 
 Sonnenkamp pressed his fingers to his 
 lips, and then said, — 
 
 " Such a plan cannot be talked of for a 
 moment; my breath is gone, when I know 
 that the child is away from me. I must 
 therefore beseech you, not a word of this." 
 
 He now requested the Major to leave him 
 alone with the Captain. 
 
 The Major complied at once, and did not 
 take it at all amiss, that Sonnenkamp dis- 
 posed of him so readily. 
 
 And now that they wete alone, Sonnen- 
 kamp said, rubbing his chin repeatedly, — 
 
 " I see clearly the difficulty of consigning 
 Roland to any one but you ; I have already 
 dismissed the man who was employed by 
 me. But now, one question. Were you 
 not, voluntarily, employed in the House of 
 Correction ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask, since the asking tells 
 me that, you already know ? " 
 
 " And do you think that you can now be 
 Roland's preceptor ? " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Do you think that it will not revolt the 
 boy, or at least deeply wound him, when 
 he shall at some time learn by chance, that 
 he is under a man who has had the manage- 
 ment of convicts ? " 
 
 " Roland will not learn this by chance. 
 I shall tell him myself, and he will have un- 
 derstanding enough to perceive that this is 
 no degradation of my personal worth, but — 
 I say it with all modesty — an exaltation of 
 it. With my own free will, and holding an 
 honorable position, I desired to devote my- 
 self to my fallen fellow-men ; and I can only 
 regret that I must acknowledge myself to 
 have no talent for this. I am of the con- 
 viction that every man, whatever he has 
 done, can become once more pure and 
 noble ; I was not able, unfortunately, in 
 that position, to carry out my conviction." 
 
 Sonnenkamp listened, with closed eyes ; 
 he nodded, and thought that he must say 
 something laudatory to Eric, but he did not 
 seem able to bring it out. 
 
 At last he said, — 
 
 "I have introduced this matter only to 
 show you that I keep nothing in reserve ; 
 we are now, I hope, of one mind. Might I 
 ask you to call the Major, and let me join 
 the ladies ? " 
 
 The Major came, and when Eric was 
 alone with him, naturally related first of all 
 the terrors of the extra train, and that the 
 clattering was no longer a perceptible beat, 
 but one continued rumble. He knew how 
 to imitate it very exactly, and to give the 
 precise difference of sound when going by 
 the stations, and the mountains, and over 
 the dikes. 
 
 Eric could have replied that he was ac- . 
 curately acquainted with the road ; he had 
 gone over it a few days before, without 
 speaking a word, engaged in his own medi- 
 tations, but the Major did not suffer him- 
 self to be interrupted ; he asserted that no 
 one had evei before so rode, and no one 
 
150 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 would ever ride so again, so long as Europe 
 had its iron rails, for Sonnenkamp had fired 
 up after the American fashion. 
 Then he said, 
 
 " I have come to know Herr Sonnenkamp 
 very thoroughly, since his son went away. 
 I have, indeed, no son, and cannot enter 
 completely into his way of expressing him- 
 self, but such lamentation, such reproaches 
 against himself, such raving, such cursing, 
 — our hardest corporal is a tender nun in 
 comparison — such words he brought out. 
 It must truly be a fact ! In countries where 
 good tobacco grows, and snakes and par- 
 rots, Fräulein Milch has said, there the 
 soil of men's hearts is much hotter, and 
 there things grow up, and creatures creep 
 out and fly about, such as we have no sort 
 of idea about. And how Frau Ceres car- 
 ried on, I'll not speak of. 
 
 " But you know who first told where the 
 youth is ? Fraulein Milch told it. And do 
 you know what she said ? 1 If I were a young 
 girl, I would run after Herr Eric too, over 
 mountain and valley.' That is to say, she 
 has said that in all honor ; she has never 
 loved any one but me, and we have known 
 each other now for nine and forty years, 
 and that is something. But why do we 
 speak of such things now? we shall have 
 time enough for this by and by. You are 
 right, you are smarter than I thought for ; 
 it is shrewd in you not to make terms at 
 once. Now he has come to you, into the 
 house, you can make whatever conditions 
 you want to. In his raving he cried, — A 
 million to him who restores my son to me ! 
 You can claim the million, it belongs to you ; 
 I am witness of that." 
 
 Eric declared that he was irresistibly at- 
 tracted towards the boy, but that he could 
 not come to terms, for it would be the 
 highest kind of ingratitude if he should de- 
 cline the position that had been offered to 
 him in such a friendly way, and of which a 
 report had certainly been made, before this 
 time, to the Prince. 
 
 In what light would he stand with his 
 patron, and with the Prince, who had, be- 
 sides, grounds of displeasure with him, if he 
 should now say, "Thank you kindly; I 
 have, in the mean while, made a previ- 
 ous engagement elsewhere " ? The Major 
 drummed with the fore and middle fingers 
 of his right hand rapidly upon the table, as 
 if his fingers were drumsticks. 
 
 " Bad, very bad," he said. " Yes, yes, 
 fate often takes an extra train too;' every- 
 thing has an extra train now-a-days." 
 
 Eric said, in addition, that service to an 
 individual had its difficulty ; he might per- 
 haps be able to consent to appear ungrate- 
 
 ful, and forfeit forever all favor, but he 
 feared lest, in the dependent servitude to 
 the rich man, he might often be troubled 
 with the thought how much more free he 
 might have been in the service of the State. 
 
 The Major continued to drum and drum, 
 repeating the words, — 
 
 " Bad — very bad ! " 
 
 He uttered the words so oddly, that it 
 sounded like a crow, in the freshly-turned 
 furrow, gulping down an earthworm. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 WE HAVE HIM. 
 
 While the Major and Eric were silting 
 together, Sonnenkamp was with the mother 
 in the library ; Roland and the aunt, in the 
 recess, had a great book open before them, 
 containing outline drawings of Greek sculp- 
 ture. 
 
 The boy now looked up and cried, — • 
 
 " Father, only think that Herr Eric must 
 sell this fine library of his father's, and 
 there is not a single leaf here that his father 
 has not written on, and it must go now into 
 the hands of strangers." 
 
 " It would be a favor to me," said Son- 
 nenkamp, turning to the aunt, " if you, gra- 
 cious Fräulein, would take my son out to 
 walk; I have something to say to Frau 
 Dournay." 
 
 Roland went away with the aunt. 
 
 Sonnenkamp now asked the professor's 
 wife if what Roland had stated were true. 
 
 She replied in the affirmative, adding 
 that the danger was over, as Count Wolfs- 
 garten had furnished the required sum of 
 money. 
 
 When Sonnenkamp heard the name and 
 the amount, a surprising transformation 
 seemed to take place in him. He said that 
 he allowed no one the privilege of helping 
 Eric in money-matters ; he claimed that as 
 exclusively his own. And now, having once 
 begun to be beneficent, a new strength 
 seemed to be unfolded in him ; he consid- 
 ered himself very fortunate in being per- 
 mitted to render assistance to such an ex- 
 cellent family, even if Eric should not re- 
 main with him. 
 
 The professor's widow could not refrain 
 from confessing that it required great 
 strength of soul to receive favors, and that 
 her family were not accustomed to it. She 
 spoke of her son. 
 
 "He is a child in feeling," she said, 
 " without anything false, incapable of any 
 indirection, a strong, steadfast, sincere, 
 manly, and noble character. I ought not, as 
 his mother, to say this, but I can only con- 
 gratulate you. You can entrust to him 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 that which you value most, as the precious 
 jewel of your life, and I tell you that who- 
 ever loves Eric has a heaven in his heart, 
 and whoever does not love him is without a 
 heart." 
 
 Sonnenkamp rose, drawing a deep breath ; 
 he would have liked to say, How happy was 
 that man who could call this woman mother ; 
 but he restrained himself. He stood before 
 the flower-stand, which was artistically ar- 
 ranged, by an invisible contrivance,, in a 
 pyramidal shape, and all so well cared for 
 and ordered, that it was a pleasure to be- 
 hold it. He led the conversation to botany ; 
 Eric had informed him that his mother had a 
 knowledge of it, and he was happy to meet 
 in her an associate in his special pursuit — 
 for he considered botany his specialty. 
 
 He turned the conversation, aptly and 
 sympathizingly, to the lady's past history. 
 He asked first, whether she would not take 
 pleasure in coming, at some time, to the 
 Rhine. 
 
 She replied that she should like much to 
 do so, and that she had a special desire to 
 see once more, before she died, a friend of 
 her youth, the present Superior of the island- 
 convent, and principal of the seminary. 
 
 " Are you so intimate with the Superior ? " 
 said Sonnenkamp, and something occurred 
 to him which he could not make clear to 
 himself, but he evidently impressed it upon 
 himself to reserve this for further considera- 
 tion. He smiled in a very friendly manner, 
 when the lady dwelt at length, in a pleasant 
 way, upon the strangeness of life. There 
 sits a lady in her cage, and here another has 
 her nest in a little garden, and they cannot 
 come to each other. The older one be- 
 comes, indeed, so much the more enigmati- 
 cal seem often the interwoven threads of 
 human relations in the world. 
 
 She added, gently closing her eyes, that 
 it had seemed so only since the death of her 
 husband, for she had been able to say every- 
 thing to him, and he had unfolded clearly 
 and harmoniously what seemed to her a con- 
 fused puzzle. 
 
 Sonnenkamp experienced something like 
 a feeling of devotion, as the wife said this. 
 
 She made mention now of her life as a 
 lady of the court, and her eyes glistened 
 while speaking of the Princess dowager. 
 
 " I had not only the happiness and the 
 honor," she said, " to visit and oversee with 
 her, and yet oftener in her name and by her 
 order, the many various institutions of be- 
 neficence of which her highness was the pro- 
 tectress, but I had the yet more important 
 and often more melancholy, though blessed 
 ar.d refreshing duty, to visit those, or to 
 institute inquiries concerning those, who ap- 
 
 151 
 
 plied to the Princess for assistance, often 
 with heartrending cries for help. The greater 
 part of the letters were entrusted to me, eith- 
 er to bring in a report concerning them, or to 
 answer them. This was a sad, but, as I 
 said before, a blessed and an ennobling ser- 
 vice." 
 
 While the lady was thus speaking, plac- 
 ing at the same time her delicate, soft 
 hand upon her heart, as if she must re- 
 press the overflowing feelings of this recol- 
 lection, her whole countenance was illumi- 
 nated by an inexpressible tenderness. 
 
 Sonnenkamp rose suddenly, as if some 
 irresistible power had called to him, and 
 there was deep feeling in his voice, as he 
 said, — 
 
 " Might I be allowed, noble lady, to 
 offer you a compensation, if you will be 
 induced to live in our neighborhood ? I 
 am no prince, but I am, perhaps, as much 
 overrun with begging letters. Our good 
 Major frequently helps me in instituting 
 inquiries. But you, honored lady, could 
 render much more effectual service in this 
 matter ; and even if one cannot render as- 
 sistance in every case, it is always a con- 
 solation to the poor to receive at least a 
 friendly answer, and your look is radiant 
 with a mother's blessing." 
 
 It was an hour in which Sonnenkamp ex- 
 perienced a blessedness such as he thought 
 himself wholly incapable of receiving, and 
 his fixed purpose was, — 
 
 " This must be ; here is the starting-point 
 in life which you have so long desired, and 
 all the past is annihilated." 
 
 Sonnenkamp had formed an entirely dif- 
 ferent notion of the professor's widow and 
 her sister-in-law. He saw in Eric's mother 
 a stately lady of fine mind and high-bred 
 manners ; she was pale, and this paleness 
 was very much increased by her black cap 
 and her mourning dress. 
 
 The aunt seemed to him still handsomer. 
 
 It was a peculiar gesture that Sonnen- 
 kamp made in the air ; it was as if he 
 seized hold of the two ladies : for he men- 
 tally transplanted them to his splendid 
 rooms, where they did the honors of the 
 house, adorning his house, and his house 
 adorning them, and when company were 
 present a whist-table was formed, as a 
 matter of Course. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was obliged to restrain 
 himself from asking the ladies at once 
 whether they played whist, and with the 
 consciousness that he was thinking about 
 it, and with the exertion of self-control 
 necessary to keep it to himself, his counte- 
 nance assumed a variety of expressions. 
 
 During the conversation Roland had 
 
152 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" TH^ RHINE. 
 
 left the room, holding the aunt's hand ; he 
 now came in with Eric and the Major, 
 holding in his hand a large letter with the 
 seal of the ministry of education. 
 Roland said, — 
 
 " I beseech you, aunt, let me speak." 
 
 All were surprised at the appearance of 
 the boy, who now said, holding up the let- 
 ter, — 
 
 " The aunt has confided to me, that here 
 is the decree appointing you to be director 
 for the keeping of the beautiful bronze and 
 marble statues of antiquity. Eric, I am 
 not made of bronze or marble, and when 
 you are there among those figures it will 
 freeze you, and it will also freeze me for- 
 ever, if you abandon me. Eric, don't do 
 it ; don't do it to yourself, or to me. Stay 
 with me, I will stay with thee. I beseech 
 you, Eric, do not leave me; I am not 
 plaster. I am not marble; do not leave 
 me. I beseech thee, Eric, do not forsake 
 me — do not forsake me." 
 
 All were thrilled by this scene, and 
 while the boy was speaking thus, the 
 Major said in a low tone, — 
 
 "This is no child. What can it be? 
 The lad speaks just as if a holy spirit pos- 
 sessed him ! " 
 
 Eric went to Roland, raised him in his 
 strong arms, held him high up, and 
 said, — 
 
 "Roland, as I hold you now, and you 
 hold me, so hold fast to me with all the 
 strength of your life ! We will together 
 grow into something great; here is my 
 hand." 
 
 The letter was forgotten. The mother 
 begged to be permitted to open it, and she 
 had hardly run it over, when she cried with 
 a lightened heart, — 
 
 " Thank God, Eric, you need not be 
 ungrateful." 
 
 The letter contained an expression of 
 regret that the place had been already 
 given to a young man of the nobility, who 
 had shown himself unfitted for a diplomatic 
 post. 
 
 Sonnenkamp requested them to let him 
 have the letter ; he ' might perhaps make 
 use of it as a documemt against Eric's en- 
 emies, who charged him with being in ill- 
 favor at court. And now he desired that 
 mother and aunt would remove at once to 
 Villa Eden ; but Eric answered positively 
 in the negative. He himself agreed to go, 
 but his mother and aunt could not before 
 the autumn ; he must first become initia- 
 ted, with Roland alone, into the family 
 life. 
 
 No one was happier, that everything had 
 turned out so well, than the Major. It was 
 
 decided to start to-day. The Major prom- 
 ised that he and Fräulein Milch would help 
 the mother and aunt in all the arrange- 
 ments, when they removed later in the 
 season ; nothing else would do, as Fräulein 
 Milch must be consulted in everything. 
 He now requested k ave of absence for an 
 hour, to visit friends in the university- 
 town, whom he did not know personally. 
 
 After the Major had gone, Sonnenkamp 
 said, in a kindly tone of patronage, that the 
 Major probably had some brother Free- 
 masons to visit. Eric also asked to be ex- 
 cused, as he hacj yet to take leave of one 
 man. 
 
 He went to see Professor Einsiedel. 
 The Professor was always uniformly ready 
 for every friendly call, but as uniformly 
 angry, if, forgetting the hour of his lecture, 
 any one came during the half hour previ- 
 ous ; he could be very angry. His anger 
 consisted in saying, — 
 
 "But, dear friend! how could you for- 
 get this ? You must surely know that I 
 have a lecture at two o'clock, and can now 
 see no one. No, I must beg you very ear- 
 nestly — very — very — very earnestly beg 
 you to note my lecture-hour." 
 
 And while saying this, he pressed one's 
 hand with great good-nature. 
 
 When Eric said that it would be of no 
 service for him to note this for the future, 
 as he was going to leave town to-day, Ein- 
 siedel requested to be informed of the hour 
 when the train left ; perhaps he would then 
 meet him, but he would not make a definite 
 promise, for if he did, it would disturb him 
 in the delivery of his lecture. 
 
 Eric left him. The Professor went with 
 him to the door, took off his black cap, and 
 excused himself for not accompanying him 
 down the steps. "I beg earnestly — very 
 — I lecture at two," he turned back into 
 his study. Eric was sure that the Professor 
 would see him again. 
 
 The whole town lifted up their eyes, as 
 the six persons were going to the station. 
 Sonnenkamp escorted Frau Dournay, the 
 Major the aunt, and Eric held Roland by 
 the hand. They had to wait for the train 
 to come in. Suddenly Professor Einsiedel 
 made his appearance ; and it was a great 
 deal for the slender little man to do, as it 
 interrupted the regular order of the day. 
 
 Eric introduced the Major and Sonnen- 
 kamp. Sonnenkamp had no special word 
 to say to him, and the Major, notwithstand- 
 ing his kind feelings towards everybody, 
 could not find just the right friendly ex- 
 pressions with which to address this delicate, 
 feeble-looking person, when Eric introduced 
 him as his teacher and master. Roland, on 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 153 
 
 the contrary, with hearty pleasure seized 
 the hand of the little man, soft as a child's, 
 and said, — 
 
 "Do you know how you seem to me? 
 You are my grand-teacher ; for Herr Eric 
 is my teacher, and you are his teacher, and 
 so you are my grand-teacher ; and if you 
 want a dog, I will send a dog to you." 
 
 Professor Einsiedel quoted some Greek 
 words out of Plato to Eric, which expressed 
 the joy one feels in a beautiful animated 
 youth ; then he patted the boy on the shoul- 
 der, thanked him for the offer of the dog, 
 and said that as he did not like to bid good- 
 bye in the rush, he would now bid them fare- 
 well before the train arrived. He consid- 
 ered that those who were waiting at the 
 station had already started on their journey, 
 and taking Eric aside, he said in a voice 
 trembling with emotion, — 
 
 "You are well enough off, and you must 
 also marry, for the apostle Paul says, 'Who- 
 ever careth for the things that are of the 
 world ought to marry. 1 " He requested 
 him to write more particularly concerning 
 Clodwig's antiquities, then shook him by 
 the hand. Roland also extended his hand 
 to the professor. 
 
 Eric looked after the little man going 
 away, who was in his eyes a walking temple 
 of the spirit of wisdom ; and the good lit- 
 tle man rubbed his tender hand on his coat, 
 for Roland had pressed it a Httle too hard. 
 
 The train came thundering in. The 
 leave-taking was hurried. Roland kissed 
 repeatedly the mother and aunt, and Son- 
 nenkamp kissed the mother's hand. 
 
 His mother said in a low tone to Eric on 
 taking leave, — 
 
 " You are forsaking me. I am at rest, I 
 know you are not forsaking yourself, and 
 so you are still with me. Go, then ; hold 
 thyself within thyself, and me in thee, and 
 it will be well with thee, and well with me. 11 
 
 In the railway-car the Major bent towards 
 Eric and whispered, — 
 
 " I have learned something about your 
 father." 
 
 " What is it?" 
 
 " Something good for you and for me. 
 Your father, who has gone to the eternal 
 home, belonged to our brotherhood. It is 
 your right to claim assistance, and my duty 
 
 to give it. I only beg that you will never 
 thank me ; we are not allowed to thank one 
 another." 
 
 At the first station the Major took Eric 
 aside, and asked him whether he had made 
 a positive agreement as to salary, indemni- 
 fication at dismissal, and pension after the 
 completion of the tutorship. Eric treated 
 the subject with indifference, and the Major 
 gave him to understand that^he had full 
 power to grant all his demands. He ad- 
 vised Eric to strike now while the iron was 
 hot. But Eric not seeming at all disposed 
 to take up with the advice, the Major de- 
 sisted, murmuring to himself, — 
 
 "Here now, Fräulein Milch is always 
 saying that I am not practical; and here 
 now is a man who is so learned, and can 
 turn himself round and face about seven 
 times before I can get up on my feet, and 
 he is ever so much less practical than I am." 
 
 The Major was almost delighted that Eric 
 was so unpractical ; he could tell Fräulein 
 Milch all about it. 
 
 On the way the diamond ring was re- 
 deemed, and Eric said to Roland, — 
 
 " Let your father take the ring ; I would 
 prefer that you would not wear a ring for 
 the future." 
 
 Roland gave the ring to his father, and 
 the Major said, humming to himself, — 
 
 " He has him! He has him by bit and 
 curb." 
 
 It was evening when they drove by the 
 small vine-covered house. Roland pointed 
 out the house to Eric with glistening eyes," 
 but uttered no word. They drove into the 
 grounds of Villa Eden, where the air was 
 laden with the fragrance of roses, for all 
 the roses in Sonnenkamp's garden were in 
 fresh bloom. 
 
 " We have it," cried the architect from 
 the castle to the Major, as he was getting 
 I out. 
 
 "Have what?" 
 
 " We have found the castle-spring." 
 
 " And we have /urn," cried the Major, 
 pointing to Eric. 
 
 And from this day, the Major began 
 many of his stories with the words, — 
 
 " At the time I rode with Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp in the extra train." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE Ol THE MINE. 
 
 I part n. 
 
 * 
 
 / 
 
154 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER I. 
 HIGH ABOVE. 
 
 The rosebuds in the garden bad opened 
 in the spring night, and rare flowers blos- 
 somed out in the soul of the youth. 
 
 With transcendent delight, Roland wel- 
 comed his recovered teacher to the house, 
 lie went in high spirits to his mother's room, 
 but she was so exhausted that he could not 
 see her. He forgot Fraulein Perini's dis- 
 tant reserve towards him, and announced 
 to her jubilantly, that Eric was there, and 
 would now remain ; she was just to say so 
 to his mother. 
 
 " And have you no inquiries to make 
 about the Chevalier? " 
 
 "No: I know that he is gone; he was 
 not with me even when he was here. Ah, 
 forgive me, I don't know what I am saying ! 
 O, why does not the whole world rejoice ! 11 
 
 Roland's rejoicing received the first check 
 when Fräulein Perini said, that no one could 
 estimate correctly the inconsolable distress 
 which his mother had suffered from his 
 flight. 
 
 The boy stood still, but he felt assured 
 that now all would go well ; that everybody 
 must now be well and strong. 
 
 He came across Joseph in the court, and 
 joyfully informed him that he now was ac- 
 quainted with his native city ; he nodded to 
 all the servants, he greeted the horses, the 
 trees, the dogs ; all must know and rejoice 
 in the fact that Eric was here. The ser- 
 vants looked at Roland in astonishment, 
 and Bertram, the coachman, drew his long 
 beard through the fingers of both hands, and 
 said, — 
 
 " The young master has got, during these 
 two days, a man's voice." 
 
 Joseph smilingly added : — 
 
 "Yes, indeed, a single day at the Uni- 
 versity has made him a different being. And 
 what a being ! " 
 
 In fact, Roland was wholly different. He 
 returned to his home as from a voyage ; yes, 
 even as from another world : he could not 
 comprehend how everything should appear 
 so changed, illuminated so brightly ; he had 
 been alone with himself, and had gained 
 possession of himself in solitude. 
 
 Eric had made no definite agreement 
 about his salary, and Sonnenkamp said to 
 the Major, smiling : — 
 
 " These enthusiastic Idealists have a 
 concealed policy. The man does as people 
 do when they are invited to dinner ; they 
 let themselves be served by the host and 
 hostess with some nice dish, and so receive 
 a larger share than they would have helped 
 themselves to." 
 
 Eric had only made one demand, that he 
 should inhabit with Roland the house-turret, 
 remote from all noise, and furnishing an 
 extensive prospect. This was granted, and 
 Eric felt himself strangely free in these 
 handsome, spacious rooms, with their out- 
 look upon the river and the landscape. 
 
 How confined is one's life in those small, 
 close apartments of the University-town, 
 and yet how far the spirit can extend itself 
 beyond that narrow enclosure ! And these 
 carpets, this elegant furniture, how soon 
 will it become an ordinary thing, forgotten 
 and unconsidered, like the wide view of the 
 landscape ! It seemed to Eric as free, as 
 inspiring, and as commanding, as if — he 
 himself laughed when the comparison came 
 into his mind — as if he were living on 
 horseback. We can go very comfortably 
 over hill and vale, with a light walking- 
 staff, but to sit on horseback, and course 
 away, with a double, triple strength united 
 to our own, and elevating us above the 
 ordinary level, this is a rare exhilaration. 
 
 Roland came to Eric, and he expressed to 
 the boy his joy at the beautiful and peaceful 
 life they would live here ; but Roland 
 begged : — 
 
 " Give me something to do, something 
 right hard ; try and think of something." 
 
 Eric perceived the boy's state of excite- 
 ment ; sitting down near him, he took his 
 hand, and showed him that life seldom fur- 
 nished a single deed on which one could 
 employ the whole strength of his voluntary 
 powers ; they would work quietly and 
 steadily, and make each other wiser and 
 better. The boy was contented, and looked 
 at Eric as if he would, with his eyes, draw 
 him into his soul, and make him his own. 
 Then he lightly touched Eric's shoulder, as 
 if to be newly assured that he was really 
 with him. 
 
 Now they put things in order, and Ro- 
 land was glad to render all kinds of assist- 
 ance. In spite of his former deliberation, 
 Eric had entered upon the new relation so 
 unexpectedly, and plunged into it so sud- 
 denly, that he had hardly settled upon any- 
 thing. Then there was so much to be dis- 
 cussed with his mother, deciding what he 
 would take with him, and what he would 
 leave behind, that they postponed all to a 
 future* arrangement by letter. 
 
 W^hen temporary order was established, 
 Eric complied with Roland's request to go 
 with him upon the platform of the tower. 
 They sat down here, and looked about, for 
 a long time, in every direction. Eric could 
 not restrain himself from telling the boy 
 how new and beautiful all life appeared to 
 him. They had formerly built castles upon 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 155 
 
 the heights, for strife, for feuds, and for 
 robbery of travellers upon the highway ; but 
 we, we work with the powers of nature, we 
 endeavor to gain wealth, and then we with- 
 draw, and place our dwelling upon an ele- 
 vated site, in some lovely valley, and desire 
 to take in only the eternal beauty, which no 
 one can take away. The great river be- 
 comes a highway, along which industrious 
 and noble men erect their habitations. The 
 generations after us will be obliged to say 
 that, at this time, men began to pay loyal 
 homage to nature, as had never before been 
 paid in the history of humanity ; this is a 
 new religion, even if it has no outward form, 
 and shali never acquire any. 
 
 " Go on speaking, go on, on further," said 
 Roland, nestling up to Eric ; he could not 
 say that he would like to hear just the 
 sound of his voice ; he closed his eyes and 
 cried again : "Go on speaking ! 11 
 
 Eric understood the imploring call, and 
 went on to relate, how, when he stood 
 for the first time upon the Righi, looking at 
 the setting sun, he had been impressed with 
 the thought whether there might not be some 
 form, some service, by which the devo- 
 tional feelings of these assembled specta- 
 tors, in this temple of nature, might find 
 expression. He had learned that this was 
 impossible, and perhaps was not needful : 
 nature imparts to each one a joy of his own, 
 and joy in nature to each a private feel- 
 ing of devotion, in which no others can 
 share. Then extolling the happiness of 
 being able thus in one's own house, on a 
 tower erected by one's self, to appropriate 
 the world, and the beauty of the earth, he 
 showed how wealth, its pursuit, and its 
 possession might be the basis of a grand 
 moral and social benefit. Riches, he ex- 
 plained, were only a result of freedom, of 
 the unfettered employment of activities, 
 and must have only freedom as their result- 
 ant product. 
 
 Roland was happy ; he did not compre- 
 hend the whole, but he felt, for the first 
 time, that wealth was neither to be de- 
 spised nor to be gloried in. All his teach- 
 ers, hitherto, had endeavored to impress 
 upon him either the one view or the other. 
 
 Joseph came to the tower, and asked 
 whether Eric and Roland wished to dine 
 together in their room ; he was answered in 
 the affirmative. They were happy, sitting 
 together, and Roland cried : — 
 
 "We two dwell upon an island; and if 
 I ever live in the castle, you must also live 
 with me. Do you know what one thing 
 more I want ? " 
 
 " How ! you want one thing more ? " 
 
 "Yes; Manna ought to be with us. 
 
 Don't you think she is now thinking of 
 us?" 
 
 " Probably not of me." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! I have written to her about 
 you, and this evening I am going to write 
 again, and tell her everything." 
 
 Eric was puzzled, for a moment : he did 
 not know what he ought to do. Ought he 
 to restrain the boy from writing about him? 
 There was no reason for doing so, and he 
 would not disturb Roland's impartial can- 
 dor. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A SPIRIT'S VOICE BY NIGHT. 
 
 Roland was writing in his room, and, as 
 he wrote, frequently uttering the words 
 aloud to himself. Eric sat silent, looking 
 at the lamp. What was the use now of 
 wishing ? He stood in front of the un- 
 packed books ; there were but few. Dur- 
 ing the last fifteen minutes before going to 
 the train, he had gone once more into his 
 father's study, and locked up the papers 
 left by him ; glancing his eye around the 
 library, he took down a book, the first vol- 
 ume of Sparks's handsome edition of the 
 works of Benjamin Franklin. This volume 
 contained the autobiography and the con- 
 tinuation of the life. Some leaves were in- 
 serted in the handwriting of his father. 
 
 And now he read, on this the first night 
 of his new occupation, these words, — 
 
 "Look at this! Here is a real man, 
 the genius of sound understanding and of 
 steadfast will. Electricity is always here 
 in the atmosphere, but does not concen- 
 trate -itself and become visible lightning. 
 
 "This is genius. Genius is nothing but 
 electricity collected in the atmosphere of 
 the soul. 
 
 " With this book a man would not be 
 alone, if he were alone on an island ; he 
 would be in the midst of the world. 
 
 "No philosopher, no poet, no statesman, 
 no artisan, no member of the learned pro- 
 fessions, and yet all of these combined in 
 one ; a pet son, with Nature for his mother 
 and Experience for his nurse ; an outcast 
 son, who, without scientific guidance, finds 
 by himself all medicinal herbs in the wild 
 woods. 
 
 " If I had a youth to educate, not for any 
 special calling, but that he might become a 
 genuine man and a good citizen, I would 
 place my hands upon his head and say, 
 ' My son, become like Benjamin Frank- 
 lin — no, — not this ; develop thine own be- 
 ing, as Benjamin Franklin developed his.' " 
 
 Eric rested his chin upon his hand, and 
 gazed out into the darkness of the night. 
 
156 
 
 THE C0UNT11Y-H0USE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 What is that ? Are there miracles in 
 our life ? He looked to the right and to 
 the left, as if he must have heard the voice 
 of his lather ; as if he had not written, but 
 was speaking the words, — My son, become 
 like Benjamin Franklin ! 
 
 Eric, with great effort, continued his 
 reading : — 
 
 "It is indeed well for us to form our- 
 selves alter the first men of the old world, 
 the period of generative, elementary exist- 
 ence ; the characters of the Bible and of 
 Homer are not the creations of a single, 
 highly endowed mind, but, they are the em- 
 bodiments of the primitive, national spirit 
 in distinct forms, and embrace a far wider 
 compass than the span of individuul exist- 
 ence. 
 
 " Understand me well. I say, I know in 
 modern history no other man, according to 
 whose method of living and thinking a man 
 of our day can form himself, except Benja- 
 min Franklin. 
 
 " Why not Washington, who was so great 
 and pure ? 
 
 " Washington was a soldier and a states- 
 man, but he was not an original discoverer 
 of the world within himself, and an un- 
 földer of that world from his own inner be- 
 ing. He exerted influence by ruling and 
 guiding others ; Franklin, by ruling and 
 guiding himself. 
 
 " When the time shall ever come, and it 
 will come, that battles shall be spoken of 
 as in this day we speak of cannibals ; when 
 honorable, industrious, humane labors shall 
 constitute the history of humanity, then 
 Franklin will be acknowledged. 
 
 ' ' I would not willingly fall into that sancti- 
 monious tone, the remnant of pulpit oratory, 
 that comes out in us whenever we approach 
 the eternal sanctities ; and I hope our tone 
 must be wholly different from that of those 
 who claim to speak in the name of a spirit 
 which they themselves do not possess. 
 
 " God manifested himself to Moses, Jesus, 
 Mohammed in the solitude of the desert ; 
 to Spinoza in the solitude of the study; to 
 Franklin in the solitude of the sea." (This 
 last clause was stricken out, and then again 
 inserted.) "Franklin is the man of sober 
 understanding, who knows nothing of en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 " The world would not have much beauty 
 if all human beings were like Franklin ; his 
 nature is wholly destitute of the romantic 
 element, (to be expressed differently," was 
 written in the margin, and attention called 
 to it by a cross,) " but the world would have 
 uprightness, truthfulness, industriousness, 
 and helpfulness. Now they use the word 
 love, and take delight in their beautiful 
 
 I sentiments ; but you are permitted to speak 
 about love when you have satisfied those 
 four requirements." (This last sentence was 
 underlined with red ink.) 
 
 " In Franklin there is something of Socra- 
 tes, and there is specially noticeable a happy 
 vein of humor ; Franklin enjoys also a good 
 laugh. 
 
 " Franklin is, through and through, good 
 prose, intelligible, transparent, compact. 
 
 " We do not have to educate geniuses in 
 the world. Every genius trains himself, 
 and can have no other trainer. In the 
 world we have to form substantial, ener- 
 getic members of the common weal. What 
 thou dost specially, whether thou makest 
 shoe-pegs or marble statues, is not my busi- 
 ness but thine. 
 
 " We shall never be in a right position in 
 regard to the world, if we do not believe in 
 purity, in the noblest motives ; the inmost 
 of humanity is revealed to us only on this 
 condition. There is no better coat-of-mail 
 against assaults, than faith in the good which 
 others do, and which one is to do himself; 
 one hears then, within, the inspiring tones 
 of martial music, and marches with light 
 and free step onward through the contest 
 of life. 
 
 "It is the distinguishing and favorable 
 feature in Franklin's life, that he is the self- 
 made man ; he is self-taught, and has dis- 
 covered by himself the forces of nature and 
 the treasures of science ; he is the repre- 
 sentative of those, who, transplanted from 
 Europe to America and in danger of deteri- 
 oration and decay, attained a wholly new 
 development. 
 
 " If we could have, like antiquity, a myth- 
 ological embodiment of that world which is 
 called America, which carried with it the 
 gods of Europe, — I mean those historical 
 ideas which the colonists carried over with 
 them, and yet freely adopted into their own 
 organic life, — would you have these ideas 
 embodied in a human form, — here stands 
 Benjamin Franklin. He was wise, and no 
 one taught him ; he was religious, and had 
 no church ; he was a lover of men, and yet 
 knew very well how bad they were. 
 
 " He not only knew how to draw the light- 
 ning from the clouds, but also the stormy 
 elements of passion from the tempers of 
 men ; 'he has laid hold of those prudential 
 maxims which are a security against des- 
 truction, and which lit one for self-guidance. 
 
 " The reason why I should take him for a 
 master and a guide in the education of a 
 human being, is this: — he represents the 
 simple, healthy, human understanding, the 
 firmly established and the safe ; not the er- 
 ratic spirit of genius, but those virtues of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 157 
 
 head and of heart which steadily and quietly 
 promote man's social happiness and his 
 moral well-being. 
 
 " Luther was the conqueror of the middle 
 ages ; Franklin is the first in modern times 
 to make himself. The modern man is no 
 longer a martyr; Luther was none, and 
 Franklin still less. No martyrdom. 
 
 " Franklin has introduced into the world 
 no new maxim, but he has expressed with 
 simplicity those which an honest man can 
 hud in himself. 
 
 " In what Franklin is, and in what he im- 
 parts, there is nothing peculiar, nothing ex- 
 citing, nothing surprising, nothing mysteri- 
 ous, nothing brilliant nor dazzling ; it is the 
 water of life, the water which all creatures 
 stand in need of." (Here it was written on 
 the margin, — Deep springs are yet to be 
 bored for, and to be found here). "The man 
 of the past eighteenth century had no idea 
 of the people, could have none, for it was 
 wrung and refined out of the free thinking 
 that prevailed even to the very end of the 
 century, even to the revolution. 
 
 " He who creates anew stands in a strange 
 and hostile, or, at least, independent atti- 
 tude towards that which already exists. 
 
 " Franklin is the son of this age ; he recog- 
 nizes only the in-born worth of men, not 
 the inherited. (Deeper boring is yet to be 
 done here)." 
 
 With paler ink, evidently later, it was 
 written, — 
 
 "It is not by chance, that this first not 
 only free-thinking, — for many philosophers 
 were this, — but also free-acting man was a 
 printer. 
 
 " In the sphere of books lies not the hero- 
 ism, — I believe that the period of heroic 
 development is past, — but the manhood of 
 the new age. 
 
 " Because our influence is exerted through 
 books, there can be no longer any grand, 
 personal manifestation of power." (Here 
 were two interrogation-points and two ex- 
 clamation-points in brackets, and there was 
 written in pencil across this last remark, — 
 " This can be better said.") 
 
 Then at the conclusion there was written 
 in blue ink, — 
 
 " Abstract rules can form no character, 
 no human being, and can create no work 
 of art. The living man, and the concrete 
 work of art contain" all rules, as language 
 contains all grammar, and these are the 
 good and the beautiful. 
 
 " He who knows the real men who have 
 preceded him, so that they live again in 
 him, enters into their circle ; he sets his 
 foot upon the holy ground of existence, he 
 
 is consecrated through the predecessors who 
 trode it before him. 1 ' 
 
 And again, in a trembling hand, there 
 was written, at a late period, clear across 
 the previous writing : — 
 
 " Whoever takes a part in the up-build- 
 ing of the State and the community, who- 
 ever fills an office and makes laws, whoever 
 stands in the midst of the science of his 
 time, becomes antiquated in the course of 
 the new civilization that succeeds him ; he 
 is not, by virtue of his position, an arche- 
 typal pattern of the coming age. He only 
 is so, who discerns, clears up, lays hold of 
 and establishes anew, those eternal laws of 
 the human spirit, which are the same from 
 the beginning and throughout all time ; 
 therefore Franklin is not a pattern, but 
 rather a method." 
 
 And now, finally, came the words, which 
 were twice underlined : — 
 
 "My last maxim is this: — 'Organic 
 life, abstract laws ! ' We can make brandy 
 out of grain, but not grain out of brandy. 
 He who understands that, has all that I 
 have to say." 
 
 Eric had read so far, and now he leaned 
 back, and endeavored to form an idea of 
 his father's thought, and to catch the whole 
 meaning of these often half-expressed utter- 
 ance's. 
 
 He felt as if he were walking upon a 
 mountain-top in the midst of clouds, and 
 yet seeing the path and the goal. 
 
 He placed his hand upon the manuscript 
 leaves, and a happy smile came over his 
 countenance ; then he arose, and almost 
 laughed aloud, for the expression of the 
 architect, on his arrival, occurred to him. 
 
 4 ' We have it ! " 
 
 " Yes," he cried, " I have it, I have the 
 spring, from which clear, sparkling water 
 shall flow forth for Roland and for me." 
 
 He found no rest ; he opened the window, 
 and looked out for a longtime on the night. 
 The air was full of the fragranee of roses, 
 the sky full of the glory of stars ; occasion- 
 ally a nightingale sang, and then ceased, 
 while in the distance, where the river was 
 dammed up, the frogs kept up a noisy 
 croaking. 
 
 Now Eric heard a man's voice — it is the 
 voice of Franken below on the balcony — 
 which was saying in a loud tone, — 
 
 " We attach much, too much importance 
 to it. Such a family-tutor ought properly 
 to wear a livery ; that would be the best." 
 
 " You are very merry to-day," replied 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 "On the contrary, very serious; the sa- 
 cred order of things, without which neither 
 
158 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 society nor the state can exist, has a sure 
 support in the differences of rank being 
 maintained, if each one shows his particular 
 class. Service — " 
 
 Eric closed the window softly ; he deemed 
 it unworthy to listen. 
 
 The nightingales sang outside in the 
 thicket, and the frogs croaked in the swamp. 
 
 " Each sings in its own way," said Eric 
 to himself, as he thought of the cheering 
 words of his father, and the expression of 
 the young baron. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE OLD UNDER A NEW FACE. 
 
 On the morning, Roland wanted to ride 
 before doing any thing else ; but Eric, 
 whose maxim was that the day could be 
 consecrated only by taking some good in- 
 fluence into the soul, made»him read aloud 
 the first chapter of Benjamin Franklin's au- 
 tobiography. This was the dedicatory act 
 of their new occupation, and when they 
 were called to breakfast, both were very ani- 
 mated. They could take an equal satisfac- 
 tion with Fraulein Perini, who returned 
 from mass with Herr von Pranken. 
 
 Eric had not mistaken, Pranken was 
 there. He greeted Eric with a sort* of 
 studied respectfulness, but he fulfilled, after 
 his way, the demands of sincerity ; whilst 
 he, as a man who has nothing to conceal, 
 openly acknowledged that he had frequently 
 thought it would be better that Eric should 
 not enter upon the position, with great de- 
 cision, and in a tone of satisfaction, he 
 added to this, that there were mysterious 
 presentiments in the soul, which we must 
 humbly acknowledge ; and so this self- 
 willed act of Roland's was the finger of fate, 
 which laid upon Eric, as upon all the others, 
 the duty of compliance. 
 
 Eric looked at Pranken in utter amaze- 
 ment. He had mistaken this man ; Pranken 
 brought forward principles of conduct 
 which he should never have supposed, nor 
 would now have attributed to him. 
 
 The breakfast passed off cheerfully ; the 
 amusement was at the Major's expense, 
 more indeed while absent, than while pres- 
 ent. He had naturally narrated to Pranken 
 the terrors of the extra train, and Pranken 
 knew how to tell the story again very much 
 to their entertainment ; he could imitate the 
 Major's thick way of talking, and Fraulein 
 Milch was always spoken of as Fräulein 
 Milch with the black eyes and the white 
 cap. 
 
 After breakfast, Eric requested Herr 
 Sonnenkamp that he and Roland might, for 
 
 the future, be excused from this breakfast- 
 ing in common, and might be left alone to- 
 gether until dinner-time. 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at him with surprise. 
 Eric explained that he asked this on the 
 first day, in order that there might be no 
 precedent of custom established. It was 
 thoroughly needful to keep Roland undis- 
 turbed, and in a persistent determination ; 
 this could only be done by leaving to them 
 at least half of the day, and the freshness 
 of the morning. Sonnenkamp agreed to it, 
 shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 At breakfast it had been casually men- 
 tioned that Bella and Clodwig Avould dine 
 with them to-day. 
 
 Eric saw at once the chief difficulty of 
 his calling, which lay in the liability of di- 
 versions becoming interruptions. He drew 
 a line of demarkation between himself and 
 all the household, especially Sonnenkamp, 
 which was not expressly defined, but yet 
 could not be overstepped; and this was so 
 much the more difficult, as Eric was not 
 taciturn, and readily entered into the dis- 
 cussion of all matters. But what was this 
 line ? There was a something in him which 
 said to each one that he must not ask more 
 than Eric was ready, on his part, to answer. 
 He labored with Roland, and found out 
 where the boy was well-grounded in knowl- 
 edge, where there was only a partial defi- 
 ciency, and where there was total igno- 
 rance. 
 
 A carriage drove into the court. Roland 
 looked towards Eric. He did not appear 
 to have heard the rattling wheels. 
 
 "Your friends have arrived," said Ro- 
 land. He avoided saying that he himself 
 was very impatient to greet Clodwig and 
 Bella, and, under the form of a reprimand, 
 to receive praise for executing the bold 
 deed. But Eric insisted that they had no 
 friends except duty ; that there was nothing 
 and nobody there for them until they had 
 performed their duty. 
 
 Roland clasped his hands tightly together 
 under the table, and compelled himself to 
 be quiet. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of a mathematical 
 axiom, he said, — 
 
 4 * Excuse me, they have fastened Griffin 
 by a chain, I know it by his bark ; they 
 must not do it : it spoils him." 
 
 "Let Griffin and everything else alone; 
 all must wait," Eric said, maintaining his 
 stand 
 
 Roland pranced like a horse who feels the 
 rein and spurs of the rider. 
 
 Soon, however, Eric went with Roland 
 down into the court. Roland was right; 
 Griffin was chained. He loosed him, and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 159 
 
 both boy and dog seemed unchained, madly 
 sporting together. 
 
 Bella was with Frau Ceres. 
 
 A servant informed Eric that Count 
 Clodwig was expecting him. Clodwig 
 came to meet Eric with great cordiality, 
 greeted him as a neighbor, and rejoiced 
 that the boy had exhibited so much energy. 
 
 " If we were living in the ancient times," 
 he added, " the boy would have received a 
 new name from this exploit." What Clodwig 
 said of Roland was, at the same time, noble 
 in sentiment and good in the manner of ex- 
 pression. 
 
 When they were at the dinner-table, Eric 
 heard in what way Bella jested with Roland ; 
 the boy was beaming with delight, for Bella 
 told him of the hero, Roland. 
 
 Eric was greeted in a friendly but meas- 
 ured way, by Bella; she called him repeat- 
 edly, " Herr Neighbor," and was extremely 
 unconstrained. It could seem to her now 
 as a laughable piece of prudery and timid- 
 ity, that she had endeavored at one time to 
 exert an influence to remove Eric from the 
 vicinity. Had then the man made an unu- 
 sual impression upon her ? It appeared to 
 her now like a dream, like a mistake. 
 
 Eric had thought of this first meeting with 
 a sort of anxiety ; now he chided also his 
 vanity. 
 
 " Shall you have the library of your fa- 
 ther brought here ? " asked Clodwig. 
 
 Eric replied affirmatively, and Bella 
 stared at him. He knew now why Bella 
 had been so indifferent and unconcerned ; 
 he had received money from her husband, 
 and he now ranked, therefore, very differ- 
 ently in her estimation. 
 
 At dinner he saw Frau Ceres again, for 
 the first time ; and when he went to her, 
 she said in a very low tone, " I thank you," 
 but nothing further ; the words were very 
 significant. 
 
 They were in good spirits at table. They 
 thought that the journey would be a benefit 
 to Frau Ceres. It would be a suitable 
 preparation for the journey to the baths. 
 One and another day was named for setting 
 out. 
 
 Eric did not know what this meant ; Ro- 
 land saw his inquiring look, and said to 
 her in a low tone , — 
 
 " We are all going to see Manna, and 
 bring her back to journey with us to the 
 baths. This will be jolly and fine." 
 
 Eric experienced anew that the chief diffi- 
 culty of a life so abounding in means and so 
 unconfined by regular duties was, that every 
 one in the family, and the boy especially, 
 was living either in the reaction from some 
 
 I dissipating amusement, or in the expectation 
 of engaging in it. He would wait quietly., 
 until the question was asked him, in order 
 then to make his resolute decision of some 
 account. 
 
 After dinner it happened, as if by chance, 
 that Bella walked with Eric. She first 
 told him how happy Clodwig was that Eric 
 was to remain now in his neighborhood, and 
 then suddenly standing still, and with a 
 furtively watchful look, she said, — 
 
 " You will shortly see Fräulein Sonnen- 
 kamp again." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Yes. You journey with us, do you 
 not ? " 
 
 " No one has so informed me." 
 Bella smiled. 
 
 " But surely you will be glad to see 
 Frauleki Sonnenkamp again ? " 
 
 " I did not know that it was she when I 
 met her." 9 
 
 Bella smiled again, and said, — 
 
 " I have seen enough of the world to have 
 no prejudice. The daughter of the house 
 and my brother Otto — Ah, you know well 
 enough what I wish to say." 
 
 " No, gracious lady, you give me credit 
 for too much wisdom." 
 
 " It should offend me if you are reserved 
 towards me, and are on such intimate terms 
 with the outside acquaintances of the fami- 
 ly. The Major's housekeeper boasts of 
 your being her favorite, and yet do you 
 know nothing of the private betrothal ? " 
 
 " Not until this moment. I offer my con- 
 gratulations, and I am proud, gracious lady, 
 that you initiate me with such confidingness 
 into your family affairs." 
 
 "Do you know," cried Bella quickly, 
 "do you know that I promise myself a 
 great deal of pleasure from you ? " 
 
 4 ' From me ? What can I do ? " 
 
 "That is not my meaning, to speak in 
 direct terms. I have thought a great deal 
 about you. You are of an impulsive dispo- 
 sition, but you are still an enigma to me, 
 and I hope that I also am to you." 
 
 " I had not allowed myself, indeed — " 
 
 "I allow you to allow yourself. Then, 
 Herr Captain, or Herr Doctor, or Herr 
 Dournay, but, at any rate, Herr Neighbor, 
 we will make a contract. I shall try to re- 
 solve for myself the contradictions and 
 oddities of your nature, and make such 
 investigations as I am able to ; on the other 
 hand, I allow you to do the same with me. 
 Do you not find this attractive ? " 
 
 " Attractive and dangerous." 
 
 Bella straightened herself up, and Eric 
 continued : — 
 
160 
 
 THE . COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Dangerous for me, for you know what 
 friend Hamlet says, that if our deserts are 
 known, ' who can escape a whipping ? 1 " 
 
 "I am glad that you are not polite, but 
 neither should you be diffident. 11 
 
 "I mean, that it might be dangerous for 
 me, not for you. 11 
 
 "I am too proud to sell, or to throw 
 away politeness, as the Austrian proverb 
 says. 11 
 
 " I am glad that you are too proud for 
 
 it too. 11 
 
 " And now tell me in what way you saw 
 Manna, and how she appeared to you. 11 
 
 Eric narrated the casual meeting, and 
 how he had first learned her name through 
 the daughter of the Justice. 
 
 "Ah, indeed, indeed, Lina, 11 said Bella, 
 and her fingers moved very rapidly, as if 
 she were playing a piano in the air.. It 
 was an agreeable recreation to look upon 
 the playing of this sentimental game, for 
 Lina had a decided penchant for Otto. 
 But the naive Innocence knew very well 
 that Otto had a preference for Manna, and 
 it was not so very bad a plan to introduce 
 to Manna so handsome a suitor as Eric. 
 
 AVhile Bella was walking with Eric, 
 Pranken had taken Roland very confid- 
 ingly by the hand, and visited with him the 
 stables and the young dogs ; then he led 
 him into an unfrequented part of the park, 
 very remote from the road. Their talk 
 was very naturally about Eric, and Roland 
 could not find words to tell how all-wise 
 and all-good he was. Pranken rebuked, 
 with a stern countenance, the application 
 of such words to a human being, and he 
 impressed very strenuously upon him, that 
 he could learn much from the worldly man 
 that would be advantageous to him in the 
 world, but there was a highest which he 
 was not to entrust to him, and wherein he 
 was to be in no way obedient. 
 
 And now he spoke of Manna. There 
 was an expression of devotion in his words, 
 as well as in his tone. He took the book, 
 which he always carried over his heart, out 
 of his breast-pocket, and showed Roland 
 the exact place which Manna reads to-day ; 
 by running away, Roland had let several 
 days slip without reading the same pas- 
 sages, but he could now catch up by dili- 
 gence. But, more than all, Herr Dournay 
 need know nothing of it, for no one of a 
 different faith should step between Roland 
 and his God. 
 
 Pranken seated himself with Roland un- 
 der a great nut-tree, by the road, and read 
 aloud some expressive passages. The boy 
 looked at him in wonderment. The Wine- 
 chevalier rode by ; he called out a greeting 
 
 to Pranken, but the latter returned it with 
 only a friendly wave of the hand, and con- 
 tinued his reading. 
 
 It was like a release to Roland when 
 Bella and Eric came along, engaged in a 
 merry, jesting conversation. He called to 
 them, and shortly after joined Eric ; and 
 Bella went by the side of her brother, who 
 twirled his moustaches and surveyed his 
 handsome boots. When Eric and Roland 
 had departed, Pranken straightened himself 
 up, and began to appeal directly to BehVs 
 conscience for coquetting and trilling thus 
 with a young man. 
 
 Bella stood still, seemingly at a loss 
 whether to laugh at he.r brother or sharply 
 reprove him ; but she concluded in favor of 
 the former course, and ridiculed the new 
 convert. 
 
 "Ah, 11 she cried, "you are very prop- 
 erly afraid that this Herr Dournay will be 
 pleasing to the glorified Manna, and you 
 suppose the same in regard to me. You 
 have just hit it. The man has something 
 bewitching for us women, provided we are 
 shut up in the bonds of wedlock, or in a 
 convent. 1 ' 
 
 Pranken did not fall in with this tone ; 
 he repeated, that every jest, every act of 
 trifling, bordered upon a sin, and jesting 
 was liable to remove imperceptibly the 
 boundary line. He was so zealous, that 
 he took the book out of his breast-pocket, 
 and read aloud to Bella a passage having 
 reference to the subject. 
 
 Bella looked with astonishment when 
 Otto exhibited so pious a book : she 
 pointed out to her brother, meanwhile, 
 what impregnable virtue was ; she made 
 fun of the young man, who had a truly re- 
 volting self-confidence. Moreover, Otto 
 could be wholly at rest, if there was the ap- 
 pearance of an understanding between her 
 and Eric ; yes, she would willingly make, 
 so far, a sacrifice for him ; her virtue would 
 be secure from every misconstruction, and 
 she would assume this appearance, in order 
 to free Otto from a dangerous rival. 
 
 "I am, indeed, in earnest, 11 she con- 
 cluded. " Are the good to deny to them- 
 selves a friendly intercourse, because the 
 bad conceal under this appearance all kinds 
 of baseness ? That would be a world 
 turned upside down ; that would be the sub- 
 jection of the good to the evil/ 1 
 
 Bella was not aware, or she did not think 
 it worth while to take note of it, that she 
 here set forth a remark of her husband. 
 Pranken looked at her with surprise. Was 
 he, in fact, misled by his newly awakened 
 zeal, or was this only a nicely-woven veil, 
 a mere outside show of virtue ? He was in 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 161 
 
 perplexity ; he was at a loss what to say in 
 reply to this jesting and playful tone, to 
 these insinuous and flexible evasions of his 
 sister. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A FRUSTRATED PLAN. 
 
 Eric found great difficulty in keeping his 
 pupil steadily at his lessons, so completely 
 was he taken up with the thought of the 
 journey. 
 
 The day came for the journey to the con- 
 vent; it was a bright day of sunshine. 
 
 Eric requested that he might remain 
 behind ; Sonnenkamp immediately agreed, 
 adding kindly that it would probably be 
 agreeable to Eric to have a few quiet days 
 alone. This considerateness appeared very 
 friendly to Eric, who returned it by saying 
 that it should be his endeavor not to es- 
 trange Roland from his family. 
 
 Pranken drove over with his sister, and 
 Bella told Eric that Ciodwig sent a message, 
 begging for his company during their ab- 
 sence. Eric became thus aware, for the 
 first time, that he had never been expected 
 to join the party ; he immediately stifled 
 the sensitive feelings arising from this, as 
 well as from some other occurrences. Ro- 
 land alone urged him pressingly to go with 
 them, saying, unreservedly, — 
 
 "Manna will be very much vexed if you 
 do not come ; she ought to see you too." 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled oddly at this en- 
 treaty, and Pranken turned away to con- 
 ceal his features. 
 
 Roland took a most affectionate leave of 
 Eric ; it was the first time that he was to be 
 parted from him for hours and through 
 the night : he promised, meanwhile, to tell 
 Manna much about him. Something un- 
 usual must have been passing in the boy's 
 mind, for just at the moment of departure, 
 he said to Eric, — 
 
 " You and the house, you don't go away 
 from your place." 
 
 Eric pressed his hand warmly. 
 
 They drove to the steamboat in three 
 carriages. Pranken with Frau Ceres, Son- 
 nenkamp with Fraulein Perini and Bella, 
 and, in the third carriage, Roland and the 
 servants. 
 
 They drove a short distance up the river 
 to take the boat, and as they afterwards 
 shot quickly past the Villa, Eric was stand- I 
 ing on the beautiful, wooded hill, whence I 
 there was a view down the stream, where 
 the mountains seemed to meet to compel 
 the river to spread out into a lake. Roland 
 waved his hat from the boat, and Eric an- ! 
 
 swered the greeting in the same way, say- 
 ing to himself, — 
 
 " Farewell, boy dear to my heart." 
 
 Whoever understands the meaning of the 
 fact that Eric could not send a greeting into 
 the distance, where it was inaudible, with- 
 out speaking an earnest word of love, — 
 whoever understands this, has the key to 
 the depths of Eric's character. 
 
 The boat puffed by, the waves in its wake 
 plashed for a while against the shore, and 
 tossed the pretty pleasure-boat up and down, 
 then all was still again. The steamboat 
 shot down the stream, and the party on 
 board was very cheerful. Pranken occu- 
 pied himself with special attentions to Frau 
 Ceres, who, wrapped in fine shawls, sat on 
 the deck. 
 
 Roland had received permission to take 
 Griffin with him. All on board were struck 
 by the handsome boy, and many expressed 
 their admiration aloud. 
 
 For a short distance the Wine-count and 
 his son, the Wine-chevalier, travelled with 
 them. The old gentleman, a tall, distin- 
 guished-looking man, wore his red ribbon 
 in his button-hole ; the young man was very 
 much pleased to meet Pranken there, and 
 especially happy to be able to salute Frau 
 Bella. • 
 
 Towards Sonnenkamp and his family both 
 these old inhabitants had hitherto borne 
 themselves with some reserve ; to-day they 
 seemed to wish to change this reserve for a 
 more friendly manner, but Sonnenkamp held 
 back, not choosing that they should make 
 advances to him now that they saw him in a 
 position of honor ; and he was evidently re- 
 lieved when they left the steamer, at the 
 second stopping-place, where there was a 
 large Water-cure establishment. On the 
 landing stood the steward of the prince's 
 household with his invalid son, waiting for 
 the two gentlemen. Bella received a most 
 respectful bow from his Excellency, and she 
 told Herr Sonnenkamp, as they went on 
 their way, that it was almost a settled mat- 
 ter, that the daughter of the rich wine-mer- 
 chant was to marry the invalid son of the 
 steward. 
 
 The day was bright and clear ; hardly a 
 breath of wind blew .upon the swiftly-mov- 
 ing boat. Roland frequently overheard 
 some one whispering half aloud to some 
 passenger, newly come on board, "There 
 is the rich American, who is worth ten mil- 
 lions." 
 
 A special table was laid on deck for Son- 
 nenkamp's party, and Joseph had it orna- 
 mented with flowers and brightly-polished 
 wine-coolers. Sonnenkamp's servants, in 
 their coffee-colored livery, waited on them. 
 
162 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 At table Roland asked, — 
 
 14 Father, is it true, that you are worth 
 ten millions ? 11 
 
 ' 1 People have not yet counted my money, 11 
 replied Sonnenkamp, smiling ; " at all events 
 you Avill have enough to allow you to order 
 such a dinner as we have to-day. 11 
 
 The boy did not seem satisfied with this 
 answer, and Sonnenkamp added, — 
 
 "My son, one is rich only by compari- 
 son. 11 
 
 " Mark the words, rich only by compari- 
 son, 11 repeated Franken; "that's a tine 
 expression ; it includes a whole balance- 
 sheet. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled ; he was always 
 pleased when any one dwelt on an expres- 
 sion of his with special emphasis. 
 
 " Ah, travelling is so pleasant, so jolly, 
 if we only had Eric with us ! 11 cried Ro- 
 land. 
 
 No one answered. The boy seemed un- 
 usually talkative, for as the champagne was 
 opened, and Bella proposed Manna 1 s health, 
 he said to Franken, — 
 
 " You ought to marry Manna. 11 
 
 The ladies gave an odd look at the two 
 men ; Roland had given utterance to the 
 wish of all. He became more and more the 
 central object of the conversation and the 
 jesting, and more and more talkative and 
 extravagant; he uttered the wildest non- 
 sense, and at last complied with Pranken^ 
 request that he would imitate the candidate 
 Knopf. He smoothed his hair back, took 
 snuli" from his left hand, which he held like 
 a snuff-box, and constantly tapped ; he sud- 
 denly assumed a perfectly strange voice and 
 expression, as, in a stiff, wooden manner, 
 he declaimed the fourth conjugation, and 
 the precepts of Pythagoras, with a mixture 
 of all sorts of other things. 
 
 "Now can you mimic Herr Dournay? 11 
 asked Franken. 
 
 Roland was struck dumb. A stony look 
 came into his face, as if he had seen some 
 monster ; then he grew suddenly calm, and 
 looked at Franken as if he would annihilate 
 him, saying, — 
 
 "I will never again imitate Candidate 
 Knopf, that I vow from this day forth. 11 
 
 The boy, who was excited by wine and by 
 talking, became suddenly quiet, and disap- 
 peared, so that the servants had to be sent 
 in search of him. He was found on the 
 forward deck with his dog, great tears in 
 his eyes ; he allowed himself to be led back 
 to his friends without opposition, but he 
 continued silent. 
 
 The steamboat glided on and on ; the 
 vineyards glowed in the midday sunshine, 
 and soon it was said, — 
 
 " Only two more stops, then comes the 
 convent. 11 
 
 Roland went back to his dog, and said, — 
 
 " Griffin, now we are going to Manna; 
 aren : t you glad ? 11 
 
 It was still high noon when they landed 
 by the weeping-willows on the shore, and 
 entered the refreshing shade of the park 
 which surrounded the convent. The ser- 
 vants were left in a large inn on the other 
 bank of the river. 
 
 No one was on the shore awaiting the 
 travellers, although their coming had been 
 announced beforehand. 
 
 " Manna not here ? 11 asked Sonnenkamp 
 as he sprang ashore, and the fierce look, 
 which he generally knew how to conceal, 
 came into his face. 
 
 Frau Ceres only turned her head towards 
 him, and he became gentle and mild. 
 
 " I only hope the good child is not sick, 11 
 he added, in a tone which would have suited 
 a hermit doing penance. 
 
 They went to the convent, whose doors 
 were closed ; the church alone was open, 
 and a nun, with veiled face, was prostrate 
 in prayer, while the bright sunshine sparkled 
 out of doors. The visitors, who had crossed 
 the threshold, drew quietly back ; they 
 rang at the convent door, and the portress 
 opened it. Herr Sonnenkamp inquired 
 whether Fräulein Hermanna Sonnenkamp 
 were well ; the portress answered in the 
 affirmative, and added, that if they were her 
 parents, the Superior begged them to come 
 to her in the parlor. Sonnenkamp asked 
 Bella, Pranken, and Fraulein Perini to wait 
 in the garden ; he wished Roland to stay 
 with them, but the boy said, — 
 
 " No, Fm going with you. 11 
 
 His mother took his hand and spoke for 
 the first time. 
 
 " Very well, you can stay with me. 11 
 
 Griffin remained outside. Roland and 
 his parents were shown into the presence 
 of the Superior, who received them with a 
 very friendly and dignified bearing. She 
 asked a sister who was with her to leave 
 them alone, and then requested the visitors 
 to be seated. It was cool and pleasant in 
 the large room, where hung pictures of 
 saints painted on a gold background. 
 
 " What is the matter with our daughter? 11 
 asked Sonnenkamp at last, breathing deeply. 
 
 " Your child, whom Ave may call our 
 child also, — for we love her no less than 
 you do, — is quite well ; she is generally 
 yielding and patient too, but sometimes she 
 shows an incomprehensible self-will, amount- 
 ing almost to stubbornness. 11 
 
 A rapid flash from Sonnenkamp^ eyes 
 fell upon his wife, who looked at him and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 163 
 
 moved her upper Hp very slightly. The I 
 Superior did not notice this, for while she 
 spoke she either closed her eyes or kept I 
 them cast down ; she quietly continued, — 
 
 " Our dear Manna refuses to see her pa- 
 rents, unless they will promise beforehand 
 that she may remain with us at the convent 
 through the winter ; she says that she does 
 not yet feel herself strong enough to enter 
 the world. 1 ' 
 
 "And you have granted her this condi- 
 tion ? 11 asked Sonnenkamp, as he ran his 
 hand through his white neck-handkerchief, 
 and loosened it. 
 
 " We have nothing to grant to her ; you 
 are her parents, and have unconditional 
 power over your child. 1 ' 
 
 "Of course," burst out Sonnenkamp, 
 " of course, if her thoughts are influenced 
 — but I beg your pardon, I interrupted 
 you." 
 
 " By no means, I have finished ; you have 
 to decide whether you will agree to the 
 condition beforehand ; you have full pa- 
 rental power. I will call one of the sisters 
 to conduct you to Manna's cell ; it is not 
 locked. I have only performed the child's 
 commission, now act according to your own 
 judgment. 11 
 
 "Yes, that I will do, and she shall not 
 stay here an hour longer ! " 
 
 " If her mother has any voice in the mat- 
 ter," began Frau Ceres. 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at her as if some 
 speechless piece of furniture had spoken, 
 and Frau Ceres continued, not to him, but 
 to the Superior, — 
 
 "I declare as her mother that we will 
 lay no compulsion upon her ; I grant her 
 this condition." 
 
 Sonnenkamp started up and clutched the 
 back of a chair ; there was a violent strug- 
 gle within him, but suddenly he said, in a 
 most gentle tone, — 
 
 " Roland, go now to Herr von Pranken. 11 
 
 Roland was forced to leave the convent, 
 his heart beating fast. There was his sister 
 in a room above ; what was to happen to 
 her ? Why could he not go to her, embrace 
 and kiss her, and play with her long dark 
 hair as be used to do ? He went out of 
 doors, but not to Pranken ; he entered the 
 open church, and there he knelt and prayed 
 with deep fervor. He could not have said 
 for what he prayed, but he asked for peace 
 and beauty, and suddenly, as he looked up, 
 he started back ; there was the great picture 
 of St. Anthony of Padua, and, wonderful to 
 say, this picture resembled Eric, — the no- 
 ble, beautiful face was Eric's. 
 
 The boy gazed long at it ; at last he laid 
 his head on his hands, and — blessed power 
 of youth ! — he fell asleep. 
 
164 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 SECRET, SILENT LOVE. 
 
 The parents entered Manna's cell. 
 Manna calmly met them, and said, — 
 
 " Welcome, and may God's blessing be 
 with you ! " She extended her hand to her 
 father ; her hand thrilled as'she felt the ring 
 on her father's thumb. Then she threw her- 
 self upon her mother's breast and kissed her. 
 
 " Forgive me," she cried, " forgive me ! 
 Do not think me heartless ; I must do so — 
 no, I will to do so. I thank you, that you 
 have granted my request." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, we put no constraint upon 
 you," said the mother ; and Sonnenkamp, 
 who had not yet assented, was obliged to 
 comply with her wishes. 
 
 Manna's countenance became suddenly 
 lighted up ; she said that she was glad to 
 see her parents looking so -well, and that 
 she prayed for them daily, and that heaven 
 would hearken to her prayer. Manna had 
 a tone of voice in which one seemed to feel 
 the repressed tears ; this voice appeared to 
 affect Sonnenkamp, so that he placed his 
 hand upon his heart, and his posture and 
 look were as if he were making a silent 
 vow. 
 
 When Manna asked after Roland, he said, 
 with the mien of one speaking to a person 
 who has been ill and is just convalescent, 
 that Roland was in the park, and Manna 
 must go with them, and greet the ladies and 
 Herr von Pranken. 
 
 When her father mentioned this name, 
 a slight shudder went over Manna, but she 
 said with immediate composure, — 
 
 " I will see no one but you and Roland." 
 
 A lay-sister was sent for Roland. Mean- 
 while, Manna explained, that, according to 
 the regulations, she must return .for a year 
 to the world, and then — she hesitated a! 
 
 moment, and ended with the words 
 
 if he 
 
 present resolution continued, she would 
 take the veil. 
 
 "And will you never tell me, why and 
 how this thought has sprung up in you ? " 
 asked Sonnenkamp in a supplicating tone. 
 
 "Indeed 1 will, father, when it is all 
 over." 
 
 • ' I don't comprehend ! I don't compre- 
 hend it ! " cried Sonnenkamp aloud. Man- 
 na hushed the loud tone of her father with 
 her hand, signifying to him that here in the 
 convent no one spoke so loud. 
 
 Roland, after whom they had been look- 
 ing for a long time, was terrified and shrank 
 back, when, awakened suddenly by a form 
 clothed in black, he found himself in the 
 church. «He was conducted to Manna. He 
 
 embraced his sister heartily, crying out, — 
 " You good, bad sister ! " 
 
 He could say no more, from the impetu- 
 osity of his feelings. 
 
 " Not so violent," said the maiden, 
 soothingly. "-Indeed! what a strong lad 
 you have got to be ! 11 
 
 "And you so tall! And you look like 
 him, but Eric is handsomer than you are. 
 Yes, laugh if you will ! Isn't it so, mother ? 
 Isn't it, father ? Ah, how glad he will be 
 when you return home, and how much you 
 will like him too ! " 
 
 Roland talked sometimes of St. Anthony, 
 sometimes of Eric, mingling them together, 
 and telling what an excellent man he had 
 for a teacher and friend ; and when Manna 
 said that she should not go home until 
 spring, Roland ended by saying, — 
 
 "You can very well imagine how Herr 
 Eric looks ; when you go into the chapel, 
 look at St. Anthony, he looks exactly like 
 him, exactly as good. But he can also be 
 strict ; he has been an artillery-officer." 
 
 Again the father made the request, and 
 the mother joined in it, that Manna would 
 accompany them in their journey to the 
 baths, after which she would be allowed to 
 come back to the convent. 
 
 Manna informed them that she could not 
 interrupt her studies and her retreat. 
 
 The strange, thrilling tone of her voice 
 had something saddening in it, and when she 
 now stated how earnestly she hoped to be- 
 come clear and resolute in her determina- 
 tion to be constant to the religious life, 
 tears came into her mother's eyes. But 
 her father gazed fixedly at her ; he hardly 
 saw his child, hardly knew where he was. 
 He heard a voice, which once — it seemed 
 incredible that he was the same person — he 
 had heard many, many years ago ; and as 
 he thus gazed, he saw not his child, not the 
 scenes around him, he saw nothing but a 
 neglected little mound of earth in the 
 churchyard of a Polish village. He passed 
 his broad hand over his whole face, and. as 
 if waking up, he looked now at his child, 
 and heard her saying, — 
 
 " I shall be constant to the life." 
 He had heard all that had here trans- 
 pired, and yet his thought and his internal 
 eye had been fixed upon a far distant scene, 
 scarcely comprehensible. Now he repeated 
 his request that Manna would just go with 
 them into the park, and salute the friends ; 
 that she ought not to slight them; but 
 Manna firmly persisted that she could not 
 go. 
 
 Manna had requested a sister to send for 
 Heimchen ; the child came, and looked 
 wonderingly at the strangers. Manna 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ointed out to the child her parents and her ! 
 rother. The child, scarcely glancing at j 
 the parents, nestled up to Roland, when 
 Manna said, — 
 
 " This is my brother I have told you of." 
 "I like you,' 1 said the child, "I like 
 you." 
 
 She was as confiding with Roland as if 
 she had always played with him. "And 
 will you be my brother?" asked the child. 
 
 Manna delared how happy it made her, to 
 be able to do so much for the child. 
 
 Sonnenkamp hummed to himself, — 
 
 " Yes, yes, that's the way. I know what 
 you are, a child who takes to a stranger 
 child. But enough ! " 
 
 He rose hastily. 
 
 The parents and Roland left the cell. 
 Manna remained there with Heimchen. 
 
 Upon the steps, Sonnenkamp said to his 
 wife, — 
 
 "This is your doing! The child is es- 
 tranged from me ; you have turned her heart 
 from me, you have said to her " 
 
 A strange laugh, a laugh sounding as if 
 it came from some other person, was uttered 
 by Frau Ceres. Roland stared at her; 
 here is something incomprehensible to him. 
 
 The parents and the boy rejoined, the 
 visitors in the park, and Sonncnkamp in- 
 formed them very calmly that he had given 
 permission to his daughter, in order not to 
 interrupt and disturb her education by out- 
 side impressions, to remain at. the convent 
 until Easter. Pranken darted a strange 
 glance at Sonnenkamp, and then expressed 
 his admiration of the imperturbable compo- 
 sure with which Sonnenkamp accomplished 
 everything. 
 
 Bella and Fräulein Perini had walked 
 over the island. They did not return for 
 a long time ; at last they came from the 
 room of the Superior. 
 
 Evening was approaching, and as they 
 embarked on the boat, Roland cried, look- 
 ing towards the convent, — 
 
 " Good-night, Manna." 
 
 Manna had • heard the good-bye, she had 
 slipped into the park, taken a farewell look 
 at the departing visitors, and* then went 
 quietly into the chapel. 
 
 As they reached the shore, they heard 
 the choir of girls' voices singing with clear 
 tone at the convent. 
 
 "This may sound very fine to him who 
 has no child joining in it," said Sonnen- 
 kamp to himself. 
 
 In the large inn there was hurrying and 
 commotion, as if a prince had arrived with 
 his suite, for Sonnenkamp was fond of 
 making a display of his wealth. The large 
 garden was festively illuminated, this party I 
 
 165 
 
 j of travellers was served with special con- 
 sideration, and every other arrival, on this 
 evening, hardly received any attention. 
 When all was still, a boat, in which Pran- 
 ken sat, rowed over to the convent. He 
 landed on the island, and heard the music 
 of a harp from an open window. That 
 came from Manna, he was sure. Soon a 
 light was visible in a cell, here and there, 
 windows were opened, the heads of girls 
 appeared and looked out once more into 
 the night ; then the windows were closed, 
 the lights extinguished, and the harp-play- 
 ing ceased. 
 
 Pranken saw the church open, and enter- 
 ing, he knelt down and prayed silently. 
 Then he heard a light step, and a sound, as 
 if some one knelt down before the altar ; a 
 thrill passed over him, and yet he did not 
 look up, and if he had, he could not have 
 recognized any thing in the darkness 
 lighted only by the solitary, ever-burning 
 lamp. The form arose, and went towards 
 the open church door. The moon cast a 
 broad beam as far as the middle aisle of the 
 church ; now, as the form stood in the door- 
 way, Pranken approached and said, — 
 
 "Fräulein Manna, a friend. Fear not, 
 a man, who through you has known salva- 
 tion, stands before you. I have not come 
 to shake your holy resolve, I have only 
 come to tell you what I have become by 
 your instrumentality. No, I cannot tell 
 you — but you ought to know this, — if 
 you take the veil, then I also will renounce 
 the world ; apart from each other, so long 
 as we live on this earth, we will live for 
 heaven. Farewell, a thousand times fare- 
 well, thou pure, thou blessed one! fare- 
 well ! " 
 
 The young man and the maiden looked i 
 upon each other as if they were no longer 
 living creatures of human passions, as if 
 they were transported above the world. 
 Manna could not utter a single word ; she 
 simply dipped her hand into the vessel of 
 holy water, and sprinkled Pranken's face 
 three times. 
 
 With hasty step, Pranken went to the 
 shore. Manna stood and laid her hand 
 upon her brow. 
 
 Has all this been only a vision of her own 
 fancy ? 
 
 Then she heard the stroke of oars in the 
 river, and a voice again cried : — 
 " Thou pure, thou blessed one ! " 
 Then all was still. 
 
 On the other side a chain rattled, the 
 boat was drawn up to the shore, and no 
 sound was heard; only the waves of the 
 river, which are not heard by day, rippled 
 I and plashed and murmured in the still 
 
166 
 
 THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE KHINE. 
 
 night. Mauna thought that she could hear 
 the blood as it flowed through her heart, so 
 full, so oppressed, and yet so blissful. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A DAY WITHOUT PEN OR TYPE. 
 
 Eric stood on the shore gazing after the 
 boat, from which Roland was waving at a 
 distance his white handkerchief* To see a 
 person so attached to us flitting away from 
 us in a vessel, seems as if one should love a 
 bird which soars freely up into the air 
 where it cannot be reached ; and yet it is 
 different. Human love connects by invisi- 
 ble ties, and this signalizing from afar is a 
 sign of a thought in common, of communi- 
 cation of feeling and participation of in- 
 terest, notwithstanding all separation by 
 space. 
 
 When the boat had disappeared, and 
 only a light streak of vapor floated along 
 the vine-covered slopes, Eric remained 
 standing upon the hill, and as the faint mists 
 hovered in the air, so hovered in his soul 
 the last words of Roland's farewell, — " You 
 and the house do not move from your 
 place. 1 ' 
 
 What a commotion, what an upheaving 
 and swelling, there is in the soul of youth, 
 until it comes to some expression, like an 
 opening blossom ! 
 
 But that which is closed and wrapped up 
 in the bud has an equal beauty and depth 
 of sentiment, but it is not manifest to us, 
 and does not breathe upon us with such a 
 fragrant and charming loveliness. 
 
 So thought Eric as he looked at an aca- 
 cia-tree, whose buds were yet unopened, 
 and which had put forth not even a green 
 leaf. 
 
 Eric was now alone at the villa. He in- 
 haled the quiet, the peace, and the stillness 
 in full draughts, as if, after long days and 
 nights of travel upon the noisy steam-cars, 
 he should suddenly come into the silent 
 woods ; yes, as if he were lying deep down 
 at the bottom of the river, and over him 
 were gently rippling the cooling waves. 
 He did not read, he did not write, he en- 
 joyed only an unfathomable rest. 
 
 He did not mean to comply with Clodwig's 
 invitation to visit him, until the next day. 
 Eric was certainly removed from all sel- 
 fishness, but the freedom of living for a 
 whole day without being called upon to 
 talk, and of being entirely by himself, had 
 a charm for him as if he had now, for the 
 first time, escaped out of the captivity of 
 servitude, and acquired the disposal of 
 himself. The thought came over him at 
 
 one time, that Clodwig was expecting him' 
 but he said almost aloud, — 
 
 " I cannot ! — I must not ! " He wished 
 to pass a single day without speaking or 
 being spoken to, to be by himself, alone, 
 speechless, solitary, referring to no one, 
 and no one referring to him. 
 
 He thought, for one moment, of writing 
 to his mother, but he dismissed the idea. 
 No one was to have anything of him, he 
 would have all of himself. This perpetual 
 obligation to think for others, this striving 
 for them and love to them, seemed to him 
 a painful and keen suffering ; there was 
 now, in the depths of his soul, a call 
 for solitude. For a single day only would 
 he be an egoist, live in absolute rest, and 
 let no book, no relation of life, no longing, 
 no endeavor, deprive him of aught of this 
 entire loneliness. 
 
 This villa was called Eden, and he 
 would, for one day, be the first man alone 
 in Eden. He looked at a tree and nodded 
 to it. Fixed thus, abiding in himself, like 
 this tree, would he live for just a single 
 day. 
 
 He lay down in the park under a spread- 
 ing beech-tree, and dreamed away the day. 
 There is a low, gladsome rippling of being 
 and of feeling, without definite thought or 
 volition, which is the inmost desire of those 
 harassed with restless thought and anxious 
 care. Eric lay thus, happy in himself, con- 
 templating and breathing alone, so that the 
 step of a gardener upon the grating gravel 
 aroused him as from a dream. The gar- 
 dener began to rake the path ; it was a 
 strangely harsh sound. Eric would have 
 liked to bid him keep still, but he forbore, 
 and said to himself, smiling, — 
 
 "Thou art just such a raker of the 
 paths." 
 
 He looked into the branches of the trees, 
 and as the gentle breeze moved them to 
 and fro, so he allowed his thoughts to be 
 swayed hither and thither, with no desire, 
 no conscious endeavor, — simply living. All 
 was peaceful and silent within him. How 
 long, ever since its first shooting forth, has 
 such a leaf* been moved by the wind the 
 whole summer long, until it drops, and 
 then — well, then ? 
 
 A smile passed over his countenance. 
 We are no longer alone, because there is a 
 second self, and one is conscious of his own 
 unconsciousness. And the thought pro- 
 ceeded farther. Yes, solitude, this is the 
 rest upon the mother-earth, this is the 
 story of Antasus, who is inspired with 
 fresh strength from the ever-present ener- 
 gies of mother-earth, as soon as he touches 
 her. We are raised from the ground by 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 167 
 
 our constant thinking, and so are rendered 
 powerless. And farther yet went his dream- 
 ing and meditation. This is one trouble 
 of wealth, this is its curse, that it does not 
 enter into the heavens, cannot again be 
 immersed in the primitive might of earthly 
 being, for wealth possesses everything ex- 
 cept this, a deliverance from the world, a 
 being alone with one's self. Ballast ! bal- 
 last ! too much ballast ! 
 
 The doctor's word came into his mind, 
 and the word ballast again and again re- 
 curred to his thoughts, just as the finch in 
 the tree over his head continually repeated 
 the same notes. 
 
 In the midst of this dreaming and unlim- 
 ited contemplation he fell asleep, and when 
 he waked up, he was invigorated and full 
 of a fresh life ; for the first time, since a 
 long period, he felt at home within himself. 
 He smiled, for a new thought occurred to 
 him, and, as it were, shone through him. 
 Adam slept in Paradise, and when he waked, 
 he saw his wife by his side ; a world is his, 
 and also another who is to become one 
 with him. 
 
 It was one of those days and hours 
 in which all the past and the present, all 
 that humanity has ever dreamed and ever 
 obtained for itself by toil, bright with a re- 
 flected glory, and gleaming in its own splen- 
 dor, stands before the eyes. All riddles 
 seem solved. All is peaceful, harmonious, 
 and divine. 
 
 So must it be to the thoughtful man 
 when he awakens from the sleep of death, 
 and the eternal life opens to his view. 
 
 But the struggle must be entered upon 
 anew, in order to maintain the battle of life. 
 
 Eric went into the park and around the 
 house, and took in all with newly opened 
 eyes ; he had forgotten how all looked, it 
 had been put far away, and now he surveyed 
 everything like a man newly awakened and 
 endowed with fresh strength. 
 
 It is well that the world abides, and is 
 always ready in its place when we return to 
 it again from the sphere of unconscious 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 A whole day passed, in which Eric read 
 nothing and wrote nothing. 
 
 The next morning, ordering his horse to 
 be saddled, he mounted and rode towards 
 Clodwig's house. 
 
 He had scarcely been riding fifteen min- 
 utes, when a boy called to him, and 
 brought him a letter. He read it, nodded, 
 and rode in good spirits to the village. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 OUR FRIEND KNOPF. 
 
 On the bright summer days people sail 
 joyously up and down the river, everything 
 sparkles and glitters in the sunlight, and is 
 full of gladness. Who there thinks how 
 much sorrow, how much weariness, an- 
 guish, and care, dwell within the houses 
 they pass by ? Look yonder at the high- 
 perched village, that seems to rise so pret- 
 tily out of the river, and sends to us now 
 the sound of bells ; there goes a poor vil- 
 lage schoolmaster, with depressed counte- 
 nance, from the church to the school-house. 
 But to-day his face is lighted up, for a 
 faithful friend stands in front of the school- 
 house, and extends to him his hand. 
 
 "Hey! you here, Herr Knopf?" cried 
 the schoolmaster. 
 
 " The free Republic of the United States 
 gives me a day's freedom. You see before 
 you an independent man. Ah, dear Fass- 
 bender, I am specially born to be a teacher 
 of girls ; I tell you that previous to the del- 
 uge of their first ball, girls are the choicest 
 blossoms of our planet." 
 
 Knopf related to his fellow-teacher how 
 happy he was to have for a pupil a bright 
 American girl, quick of apprehension ; and 
 his homely countenance, as he spoke, as- 
 sumed a wholly different expression. 
 
 Knopf had, in fact, an ugly face, it was 
 so full of seams. His nose, mouth, brow, 
 even his eyebrows, which projected some- 
 what over his light-blue eyes whenever he 
 wore no spectacles, as was now the case, all 
 seemed kneaded out of dough. But now, 
 as he spoke of his pupil, his countenance 
 was lighted up. 
 
 He made known that he had come hither, 
 in order to give Roland's present instructor 
 some hints concerning the character of his 
 pupil, and the manner in which he could 
 best be advanced. He had already been 
 walking since before sunrise, and it was a 
 refreshing walk. He felt now that it was 
 not needful for him to go to the villa, he 
 would make an appointment with the tutor 
 to meet him here, and requested that a boy 
 might carry a note from him to Captain 
 Dournay. 
 
 The children came up one after another, 
 and saluted Herr Knopf, whom they already 
 knew. A curly-headed boy was very happy 
 to be the bearer of the note to Villa Eden, 
 instead of being obliged to sit in school. 
 
 Knopf knew a beautiful spot back of the 
 village, under a linden on the crown of the 
 hill, where there was a wide prospect on 
 every side. Strolling thither, he laid him- 
 
168 
 
 THE COUNTRY-IIOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 self down under the tree, and surveyed the 
 landseape with a joyful glanee. 
 
 " In grass and flowers I love to lie, 
 And hear afar the flute's sweet sigh," 
 
 he said almost aloud to himself. And since 
 in our steam-puffing times there is no flute 
 to be heard, Knopf screwed his cane, which 
 was intended also for a flute, into the right 
 shape, and played upon it the tune set by 
 Conrad Kreuzer toUhland's song. He was 
 more pleased at the thought that others 
 would hear this at a distance, than that he 
 was hearing it himself. 
 
 No boat went up or down the stream that 
 he did not signalize it with a white hand- 
 kerchief. What matter if those on board 
 were strangers ? He has given them a sign 
 that he on the height here is happy ; they 
 below there are to be happy too. The sig- 
 nal may tell them that. 
 
 Yes, Knopf deserves to be known more 
 intimately. 
 
 The son of a poor schoolmaster, Knopf 
 had gone through his university course with 
 great difficulty, and had passed his exam- 
 ination ; but now he fell into great misfor- 
 tune. On the very first day of his year of 
 probation, the boys stamped and hissed, 
 and the more he bade them be quiet, so 
 much the more noisy were they ; and the 
 more enraged he became, so much the more 
 insolent was their derision. The director 
 came to his assistance, but as soon as he 
 went away from the schoolroom, the noise 
 and stamping began afresh. It was granted 
 to Knopf to pass his year of probation in a 
 distant city ; but some invisible sprite must 
 have spread abroad his mishap, for very 
 soon after he began teaching, the same 
 thing happened here. And now he gave 
 up entirely the office of a public school 
 teacher. 
 
 Knopf was abundantly liked at the capi- 
 tal as a teacher of girls. Inasmuch as he 
 was so fabulously ugly, mothers could en- 
 trust their half-grown daughters to his pri- 
 vate instruction, without the least anxiety 
 lest they should fall in love with him. He 
 was conscientious and painstaking, but he 
 did not succeed. He was liked in all the 
 families, but no one wished to employ him 
 exclusively, or for any considerable length 
 of time ; he was only a temporary teacher. 
 No other one had so many deceased schol- 
 ars as he, for many were committed to his 
 instruction only after they became ailing. 
 
 Knopf had been much at the watering- 
 places, and when the parents could not go 
 with their children to the baths, he was en- 
 trusted with that service ; he was both tutor 
 and attendant. He was also teacher for 
 
 some time in an asylum for idiots, and his 
 conscience often reproved him, then and 
 afterwards, for not remaining in that posi- 
 tion ; but he asserted that he was too much 
 a devotee of the beautiful. 
 
 Yes, he wanted to explore what kind of 
 humane institutions were established among 
 the Greeks and Romans. Pie found that 
 they had very few children morally and 
 physically diseased. Knopf had a plan, 
 which he held on to for some time, of es- 
 tablishing an institution for the care of sick 
 children at some salt-spring ; for iodine is 
 the watch-word of the cultivated, that is, 
 the possessing world, whose humours are 
 acrid : he hoped to find an associate for the 
 sacred iodine. Meanwhile he remained a 
 make-shift teacher for girls. 
 
 Greek and Roman mythology was his 
 strong point, and it is extremely important 
 that a maiden in cultivated society should 
 make no mistake in that. His favorite pur- 
 suit was, however, the interpretation of the 
 poets, especially the romantic. Of course, 
 he was himself a poet, but modestly, only 
 to himself. There were probably in the 
 capital few albums, begun by very young 
 girls and afterwards abandoned, which did 
 not contain a sonnet, or oftener a triolet, 
 beautifully written by Emil Knopf for his 
 dear pupil. He had also a musical knowl- 
 edge sufficient to direct the private practis- 
 ing of pupils, and he was particularly strict, 
 yes, even unmerciful, in keeping time. He 
 could also draw sufficiently well to give as- 
 sistance in that respect, especially in draw- 
 ing flowers. He was also handy and popu- 
 lar in wedding-games, whenever one of his 
 pupils was married. He not only knew 
 how to make the maidens speak in the 
 language of flowers, as "I am the rose," 
 "I am the violet," but he could bring out 
 jokes and sportive allusions ; and while the 
 players in their fine dresses were declaim- 
 ing, and forming charming tableaux, he sat 
 in the prompter's box, and breathed to 
 them the words. How happy he was, too, 
 at some public dinner, and how assentingly 
 he nodded, when this or the other speaker 
 recited by heart, or read from a manuscript, 
 the toast he had himself composed ! 
 
 Emil Knopf was one of the most service- 
 able of men ; he was proud of never having 
 advertised in the newspapers ; he was 
 recommended from mouth to mouth, and 
 for the most part from one fair mouth to 
 another, one mother speaking in his com- 
 mendation to another, and the fathers smil- 
 ing and saying, "Yes, Herr Knopf is a very 
 conscientious teacher." 
 
 If he were in a house where smoking was 
 disagreeable, he chewed roasted coffee- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 169 
 
 berries, and he was jüst as contented with 
 that. Knopf liked to take snurff, but he did 
 it only when he was alone, and very quietly ; 
 he carried a colored and a white pocket- 
 handkerchief, so that the gentleman and the 
 lady of the house might not notice that he 
 took snuff. One very peculiar habit he 
 could not Dreak himself of, that of hitching 
 up the trousers on both legs, as if they were 
 going suddenly to drop down from his 
 body. 
 
 But this is no sufficient reason for his 
 appearing destined to be only a temporary 
 teacher, nothing but a pedagogical nurse 
 for a few weeks. Knopf is taken into some 
 family until the stress of sickness or need 
 of some kind is over, and then he is dis- 
 missed with very courteous, very friendly 
 words ; but still always dismissed. Four- 
 teen half-yearly terms — Knopf always 
 reckoned by the semester, and we must do 
 the same by him — Knopf lived at the capi- 
 tal ; and, during this period, he always 
 intended to procure a wholesale quantity of 
 a brand of cigars which should taste right, 
 but he never made up his mind. Fourteen 
 semesters he smoked, from week's end to 
 week's end, different kinds of cigars on 
 trial, and was perpetually asking what was 
 the price by the thousand, but he never suc- 
 ceeded in getting the thousand at one time. 
 
 Knopf was, naturally, one of the clumsi- 
 est of mortals, but he trained himself to be 
 one of the best swimmers and gymnastic per- 
 formers, so that he was, for a time, assistant 
 teacher of gymnastics. Having been era- 
 
 f)loyed twice in the country, where it is so dif- 
 icult to procure piano-tuners, he hadbeenled 
 to learn how to tune pianos himself; but he 
 would never do it except in the house where 
 he happened to be temporarily living. Sev- 
 eral persons asserted that he could also 
 knit and do plain sewing, but this was un- 
 mitigated slander. He could darn stock- 
 ings in a most masterly style, but no one 
 had ever seen him do it, he always did it 
 secretly by himself. • 
 
 Knopf had come to Herr Sonnenkamp 
 likewise as a temporary candidate and tem- 
 porary teacher ; here a longer tarrying 
 seemed to be allotted to him,, and a future 
 free from anxiety. Knopf had an enthusias- 
 tic love for Roland, and although the boy 
 learned nothing thoroughly with him, Knopf 
 used to say to his crony, the teacher Fass- 
 bender, — 
 
 " The Gods never learned anything, 
 they had it all in themselves. Who can 
 tell us the name of Apollo's teacher of 
 music, or with what chief-butler Ganymede 
 served his apprenticeship ? Fine natures 
 have all in themselves, and do not require 
 
 instruction. We are only cripples with all 
 our learning ; we are tvrannized over by .the 
 four Faculties, but life is no four-sided 
 figure." 
 
 This, then, is our friend Knopf; and he 
 was called " our friend Knopf" in the best 
 families of the land. 
 
 Knopf had just left off playing the flute, 
 and was now sitting with his writing-tablets 
 upon his knee, looking sometimes round 
 upon the landscape, sometimes writing 
 rapidly a few words ; then he would put his 
 pencil in his mouth, and seemed ruminating 
 for some new turn of expression. One 
 could see the road for a great distance, 
 leading from the village, by the villa, to the 
 neighboring hamlet. Now Knopf saw a 
 man on horseback coming towards him. 
 He transformed speedily his flute into a 
 walking-stick again, concealed his tablets, 
 and then hastened across the vineyard down 
 to the highway. 
 
 "Yes, he who sits a horse so well, he is 
 just the right teacher for him," said Knopf. 
 He took off his hat ; while still at a distance, 
 the rider nodded to him. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A WALK IN THE OPEN AIR. 
 
 The rider approached, and was soon by 
 the side of Knopf, who, unable to utter a 
 word, looked in surprise at the noble 
 figure. Eric said, however, — 
 
 " Have I the honor of seeing my col- 
 league, Herr Knopf? " 
 
 " Yes, I am he." 
 
 Eric swung himself quickly from the 
 saddle, and held out his hand. 
 
 "I thank you," he said; and at every 
 word which he spoke, at every tone of 
 his voice, Knopf's face brightened ; more 
 and more knots and seams showed them- 
 selves all over it, as Eric continued, — 
 
 4 ' It was my intention to visit you very 
 soon ; but I did not want to do so, until I 
 had made my own independent observations 
 on all sides." 
 
 "Very right," answered Knopf, " every 
 judgment received from others is a preju- 
 dice." With constantly increasing admira- 
 tion, Knopf looked at Eric, saying, — and 
 the words sounded like a confession of 
 love, — 
 
 "I am glad that you are really a hand- 
 some man. Ah, you may smile and shake 
 your head, but that counts a great deal in 
 this family, and especially with Roland. 
 The Spartans had the wise law, — horrible 
 indeed, but embodying a deep principle — 
 that no deformed child should be allowed to 
 
170 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE KHINE. 
 
 live. All men ought properly to be hand- 
 sorne." 
 
 Eric placed his hand on Knopfs shoulder, 
 unable to answer a word ; admiration and a 
 desire to laugh contended within him, but 
 admiration conquered. A man of such 
 an appearance must have overcome much 
 in himself to be able to express himself in 
 this way. He went with Knopf to the vil- 
 lage, telling him that he ought to have come 
 to see him at the villa, and that he would 
 have found him quite alone, if he wished 
 to avoid the family, for they had gone with 
 Herr von Pranken to the convent, to bring 
 Manna home. 
 
 " Ah, poor girl ! " said Knopf, pityingly. 
 " I can venture to say, that I have already 
 had more than fifty lovely noble maidens as 
 pupils, and not one-half, no, not one-quar- 
 ter of them have married as I should have 
 wished. Ah, Herr Colleague, you see I 
 have never in my life repeated in one house 
 what happened in another, and you can 
 understand that it has been a difficult duty. 
 Mothers always want to find Out what goes 
 on here and there, but I have refrained, on 
 principle, from telling anything. Whoever 
 gossips to me will gossip about me, my 
 mother always said. I have taken heed of 
 that, and so have got on very well. 11 
 
 Eric was delighted with the true-hearted 
 man, and he quickly drove away the thought 
 that Pranken was going to bring the rich 
 bride for himself from the convent. What 
 was the maiden to him ? 
 
 He left his horse at the village inn, and 
 Knopf conducted him to a spot under the 
 lindens oh the hill-top, and there explained 
 his views about Roland. 
 
 " I must, like a child," he began, "tell 
 you of my last observation, and my last 
 trouble. You are not in a hurry? I must 
 honestly confess to you, that nothing in our 
 time vexes me so much, as to find people 
 always in a hurry." 
 
 Eric set his mind at rest, by telling him 
 that he had the whole day at his disposal, 
 concluding, — 
 
 " Now, go on. 11 
 
 " Then for my last trouble. As I walked 
 hither over the mountain, past the forest- 
 chapel yonder, all was fresh with dew, 
 the birds were singing undisturbed, heed- 
 less of the ringing of the matin bell in the 
 chapel above, and of the railroad bell be- 
 low. What did self-sufficing nature, in this 
 season of early spring love, care for these 
 sounds ? But that isn^ exactly what I 
 meant to say to you," he interrupted him- 
 self, placing his hand upon his tablets, which 
 undoubtedly contained a poem in this strain. 
 44 Only this — as I was walking along the 
 
 wood-path, I heard children^ voices, clear 
 and merry, and a mild and gentle one 
 seemed to have control over them. There 
 came up the mountain a beautiful maiden — 
 no, I beg your pardon, I did not see that 
 she was beautiful till afterwards — l was 
 just taking it comfortably, and had removed 
 my spectacles in the green forest; now 
 1 put them on again, and saw first some 
 beautiful, plump, white hands. The girl 
 saw me, and I don^ know what she may 
 have thought, but she seemed frightened, 
 and took the hand of her oldest brother, a 
 boy of thirteen ; two younger boys were fol- 
 lowing her. I passed them with a greeting ; 
 the maiden made only a slight acknowledg- 
 ment, but the boys said " good-morning," 
 aloud. We went our different ways, and 
 I looked long after them. 
 
 " I turned back to the chapel. The quiet 
 and order reigning there, where no human 
 beings dwell, everything ready for their de- 
 votion, those holy vessels, the pictures, the 
 candles, and the good priest. I don^ be- 
 lieve a man who so bows down, kneels, and 
 raises his hands in prayer, can be wholly a 
 hypocrite ; the lowest criminal in the jail 
 would be an angel compared with him. 
 The sermon itself was only a milk-and-water 
 affair. But would you believe it ? my real 
 reason for going back had been a wish to 
 see the maiden again, but I felt ashamed of 
 having entered the church from such a mo- 
 tive, and I slipped out on tip-toe. And 
 then all personal feeling dropped from me, 
 and the great trouble came over me." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " The trouble caused by our freedom op- 
 pressed me. The girl, hardly out of school, 
 walks, in the fresh morning, through the 
 mountain wood with her three young broth- 
 ers, and they wander to the forest chapel, 
 whence the bell calls to them. Think, if 
 these four young creatures had had no such 
 goal for their morning walk, none so safe 
 and beautiful, what would it have been ? a 
 walk in the open air, nothing more ! In the 
 open air — what is that ? It is nothing and 
 nowhere. But to enter a firmly founded 
 temple, where the .organ is sounding, and 
 holy hymns are sung, this must give fresh 
 life to the youthful souls, and they bring 
 home from their morning walk, leading 
 through the open air, to a fixed goal, a wholly 
 different refreshment for their spirits. And 
 up there a divine service goes on, whether 
 men come to it or not ; nothing depends on 
 the special character of a congregation, nor 
 on the particular degree of culture of a par- 
 ticular man. It holds its course, uncaring 
 whether it is received or not, like eternal 
 nature ; whoever comes may take part in 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 171 
 
 it; no one asks, no one need know, whence 
 he comes. If I could be a believer, I would 
 be a Catholic, or a Jew of the old faith. 
 But what is our life ? a walk in the open 
 air, without limit, but also without a desti- 
 nation ! You see that I cannot but be sad, 
 for I cannot compel myself to anything dif- 
 ferent, to anything positive. And as it is 
 with me, so is it with this age, and yet we 
 must regain something different; our life 
 ought not be be simply a walk in the open 
 air, but through the open air to a firm, safe, 
 home-like destination about which human 
 spirits may gather. x Oh, if I could only de- 
 fine it, seize upon it, and the millions of 
 thirsting, pining human souls with me ! 
 And do you know," Knopf concluded, " then 
 I thought of you and Roland ? Do you now 
 understand me ? 11 
 " Not perfectly." 
 
 "Ah, I have been too vague again. 
 Plainly, then, this has been and is now my 
 thought, — whither can you lead Roland ? 
 Into the open air. But what is he to do 
 there ? What will he find ? What will he 
 have ? What will restrain or draw him on- 
 ward ? That is the point, there lies the 
 hard riddle. The religion, the moral fort- 
 . ress, whither we have to lead the rich youth, 
 has no walls, no roof; it has no image, no 
 music, no consecrated form of words — 
 there's the trouble ! Do I make it clear to 
 you ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, \ understand you perfectly," 
 said Eric, seizing the hand of his companion. 
 "You express my very deepest thoughts; 
 I hope, though, that it may be granted us to 
 give a human being something that he may 
 hold to within himself, without leaning on 
 any outside support. Have not we two, 
 who now stand here, this inward hold ? " 
 
 "I believe so, or rather, I am sure of 
 it. I thank you, you make me quite 
 content," cried Knopf, with animation. 
 " Ah, world ! here we sit, and look off into 
 the distance, watching for some sign, some 
 word, which may penetrate and renew all 
 our being; it comes not from without, it 
 comes only from within ourselves. And in 
 Roland there lies a complete human being, 
 a genuine, primitive nature, in spite of ali 
 that has been done to smother it ; he has 
 bold presumption and wonderful tenderness, 
 at the same time. He has many fine feel- 
 ings, but youth cannot explain its feelings ; 
 if it could, it would be no longer youth. 
 All sorts of elements exist in Roland, but 
 we grown people cannot understand a child's 
 heart. Let us ask ourselves whether, in 
 our childhood, our best friends understood 
 us as we really were. You will accomplish 
 this, you are called to it." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is so. A great, inscrutable plan 
 guides all existence and binds it together. 
 A wonderful law in the world, which some 
 men call Providence, others fate, decrees 
 that a man like you must be led in far-off 
 paths, through various callings, and armed 
 for his work, till he stands ready in his no- 
 ble beauty. Ah, do not shake your head, 
 let me go on ; it is a holy thought, that a 
 mysterious power, which we must name 
 God, has led you hither to train a beautiful 
 human being, an Apollo-like creature, who 
 is to have nothing to do in the world but to 
 be noble and to feel nobly. I did not 
 rightly manage Roland ; I sowed before I 
 knew whether the soil was prepared. To- 
 day, as I saw a man raking in the vine- 
 yards, I thought, there is Copernicus." 
 
 " Copernicus ?" asked Eric, in perplex- 
 ity. 
 
 "Understand me aright; the first man 
 who dug up the ground with pointed stick, 
 horn, bone, or stone, in order to plant seeds, 
 he moved the earth, he was the father of 
 our culture, as Copernicus at last discovered 
 that the whole planet is in motion." 
 
 " What do you think, then, is now to be 
 made of Roland ? " said Eric, bringing him 
 back to the subject. 
 
 " What is to be made of him ? A noble 
 man. Is it not a mistaken course to drive 
 a human being to goodness, by the sight of 
 all sorts of misery and weakness ? That 
 makes him morbid, sentimental, and weak. 
 The Greeks had a different method, that of 
 energy, cheerfulness, self-reliance, — that 
 makes him strong. Our virtue is no longer 
 • virtus,' but only a feminine hospital-work. 
 Ah," continued Knopf, "the genuinely 
 noble man, or the genuine man, is the un- 
 examined man, a species no longer to be 
 found in Europe. We are all born to be 
 examined. That was the greatness of the 
 Greek, that they had no examination com- 
 missions. Plato took ho degree, and do 
 you know, that is the greatness which is 
 bringing forward a new Greece in America, 
 that there also, properly speaking, there are 
 no examinations." 
 
 " Don't wander so far," interposed Eric. 
 
 " Yes," Knopf went on unheeding, " Ro- 
 land is the unexamined human being ; he 
 need learn nothing in order to be ques- 
 tioned about it. Why must every modern 
 man become something special? ' Civis 
 Romanus sum," 1 that ought to be sufficient. 17 
 
 Again Eric drew him back from his di- 
 gression, asking, — 
 
 ' 4 Can you suggest any vocation for Ro- 
 land ? " 
 
 " Vocation ! vocation ! The best that 
 
172 
 
 THE COUXTRY-IIOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 can be learned is not found in any plan of 
 study, and costs no school-fees. The divi- 
 sion of callings, on which we so much pride 
 ourselves, is nothing but a Philistine tyran- 
 ny, a compulsory virtue. Common natures 
 return payment by what they do, noble 
 ones by what they are. Thus it is, if a 
 noble being exists, and freely acts out his 
 nature, he adorns humanity and benefits it. 
 I have tried to guard in Roland a simple 
 unconsciousness of wealth ; we are not 
 placed here merely to train ourselves to be 
 brothers of mercy. Not every one need 
 serve ; to perfect one's self is a noble calling. 
 I respect Cicero's maxim : ' He who does 
 nothing is the free man.' The free man is 
 the idler." 
 
 Eric disputed this, and Knopf was no 
 little surprised, that Eric had the exact pas- 
 sage from Cicero in his memory, and could 
 prove that Cicero only made the assertion 
 that no man was free who was not some- 
 times idle : non aliquando ftiliil agit. He 
 said besides that the statement of the Ger- 
 man poet, that there could be a noble life 
 without activity, without labor, was still 
 more an error. He tried, however, to put 
 an end to these general considerations. 
 What effect could their thoughts and dis- 
 cussions, as they sat there on the hi'i.-side, 
 bring about concerning the vocation of 
 humanity ? 
 
 Knopf remarked assentingly that he had 
 wandered too far, and said, — 
 
 "You ought to take Roland away from 
 here." 
 
 "It would certainly be best, but you 
 must know that it cannot be brought 
 about." 
 
 "Yes, yes. I have tormented myself 
 much with the idea whether there is any 
 possibility of making Roland imagine him- 
 self poor, but, if a negation is logically sus- 
 ceptible of the comparative degree, that is 
 still more impossible. I have read, Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau's Emile, and have found 
 much that is good in it ; I have also studied 
 the treatise on Riches which is ascribed to 
 Plato ; and in Aristophanes there is to be 
 found deep insight into poverty and wealth. 
 If you will sometime come to Mattenheim, I 
 will show them all to you." 
 
 Eric made some slight inquiries as to the 
 causes which had removed* Knopf from the 
 family, but Knopf did not tell him ; he 
 only gave him to understand that Roland 
 had been led astray by the French valet 
 Armand, who had since been dismissed 
 from the house. With unusual haste, he 
 then left the subject, and said that he had 
 hesitated about coming to Eric, but Herr 
 
 Weidmann had read the wish in his face, 
 and had encouraged him in it. 
 
 Eric promised soon to go to Mattenheim. 
 Knopf was very happy to hear of Roland's 
 industry and obedience, and Eric told him 
 how from the life of Franklin he was giv- 
 ing him not only a personal ideal, but also 
 taking occasion to lead him, as they studied 
 Franklin's course of education, to perceive, 
 acknowledge, and supply his own deficien- 
 cies. 
 
 "Do you know," exclaimed Knopf, 
 springing up, " what can make one happier 
 than those great words of Archimedes, — I 
 have found it ! Still more blessed are the 
 words, Thou hast found it ! Yes, you have 
 found it ! " he cried, drawing up his trous- 
 ers ; he would have liked to embrace Eric, 
 but he did not venture. 
 
 And when Eric told him that he had been 
 drawn to this most simple method by some 
 notes of his father's, Knopf exclaimed, look- 
 ing up into the free air, — 
 
 " Blessings on thy father! Blessings on ' 
 thee, eternal Spirit ! O world, how great 
 and noble thou art ! Now we know what 
 one becomes, when one walks in the open 
 air; one grows into a,free man, a Benjamin 
 Franklin. Here are two people on a hill- 
 top by the Rhine, and they send a greeting 
 to thee in eternity. Ah, pardon me ! " said 
 he, " I am not generally like this, you may 
 depend upon it. But, Herr Captain, if you 
 ever desire anything great and difficult of 
 me, remind me of this hour, and you shall 
 see what I can do." 
 
 Eric changed the subject by asking 
 Knopf to tell him about his present pupils. 
 
 "Yes," said Knopf, "there it is again. 
 Her parents have sent the child to Germany, 
 because there was danger that yonder, in 
 the land of freedom, her spirit would be 
 fettered, for Dr. Fritz and his wife hold 
 liberal opinions in religion, and are patterns 
 of nobility of mind. The child was in an 
 English school, and after the first half year, 
 she began to wish to convert her parents, 
 and constantly declared her determination 
 to become a Presbyterian. She wept and 
 prayed, and said she could find no repose 
 because her parents were so godless. Is 
 not this a most noteworthy phenomenon ? 
 Now her parents have sent the child to Ger- 
 many, and certainly to the best home that 
 could be found." 
 
 Knopf took a letter from his pocket ; it 
 was from Dr. Fritz, who, as a representa- 
 tive of German manhood and philanthropy, 
 was busily working in the New World for 
 the eradication of that shame which still 
 rests on the human race in the continuance 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 173 
 
 of slavery. Dr. Fritz gave the teacher an' 
 exact sketch of his little girl's character, 
 which showed great impartiality in a father. 
 He also pointed out how the child ought to 
 be guided. In the letter there was a photo- 
 graph of Dr. Fritz, a substantial-looking 
 man, with a full beard, and light, crispy 
 curling hair ; something of youthful, even 
 ideal aspiration spoke in the expression of " 
 the strong and manly face. 
 
 With an air of mystery Knopf then con- 
 fided to Eric, that the child had lived in 
 the New World within the magic circle of 
 Grimm's tales, and it was strange — he 
 could not find out whether it was pure 
 fancy or fact — but the child had had an 
 adventure on her journey that seemed to 
 belong to a fairy tale. 
 
 " Her name is Lilian," said Knopf, "and 
 you know that in English our mayfiower is 
 called the lily of the valley, and the child 
 received a mayflower from some being in 
 the wood who did not know her name. A 
 wonderful story she has woven together in 
 her little blond head, for she constantly in- 
 sists that she has seen the wood-prince." 
 
 " You are secretly a poet,' 1 said Eric. 
 
 Involuntarily Knopf's hand went to his 
 breast-pocket, where his tablets lay hidden, 
 as if he suspected that Eric had stolen them 
 from him. 
 
 "I allow myself now and then to string 
 averse together; but don't be frightened, 
 I've never troubled any one else with 
 them." 
 
 Eric felt cordially attracted towards this 
 man, so dry in Outward apearance. and yet 
 so deeply enthusiastic; and as the bells 
 rang again in the village, he said, — 
 
 "Now come and make me acquainted 
 with the schoolmaster. 11 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 ANTHONY. 
 
 The schoolmaster of the village was stiff 
 and formal in manner ; he received the 
 Captain very humbly. The three were 
 soon seated together at the inn, and the 
 village teacher related the history of his 
 life. 
 
 He was sixty-four years old, but seemed 
 still very vigorous. He had the same rea- 
 son for complaining which all pub^c teach- 
 ers have, and related with a mingled pride 
 and bitterness that his son, twenty-one 
 years of age, was receiving more than twice 
 the pay in a cement-factory of the young 
 Herr Weidmann, than his father was receiv- 
 ing after a service of two and thirty yeays. 
 He had four sons, but not one should be- 
 come a schoolmaster. Another son was a 
 
 j merchant, and the oldest a building-con- 
 I tractor in America. 
 
 " Yes, 11 cried he, " we schoolmasters are 
 no better off than any common day-la- 
 borer. 11 
 
 " Would you remain a schoolmaster, 1 ' 
 asked Eric, " if vou had a competency ? " 
 "No. 11 
 
 " And you would never have become 
 one ? 11 
 
 " I think not. 1 ' 
 
 " This is the deplorable part of it," cried 
 Knopf, "that riches always say, and say 
 rightly, I ought not to remove all need, for 
 through this the beautiful and noble build 
 themselves up ; need calls into being the 
 ideal, the virtuous. See here, Herr Cap- 
 tain Colleague, Herr Sonnenkamp, who is a 
 good deal- of a man, of wide observation, 
 says, — 
 
 " ' I must not trouble myself concerning 
 the people about me, neither must Roland, 
 for if he did, he would lose all comfort of 
 his life ; he would never be able to ride 
 out, without thinking of the misery and 
 suffering he witnessed in this place and in 
 that. 1 See, here is our riddle. How can 
 one at the same time be a person of elevated 
 thought, and be rich ? We teachers are 
 the guardians of the ideal. Look at the 
 villages all around ; there is in them all a 
 visible and an invisible tower, and the in- 
 visible is the ideality of the schoolmaster 
 sitting there with his children. I honor 
 you, because you also have become a 
 schoolmaster." , 
 
 Eric looked up in a sort of surprise, for 
 his vanity was inwardly wounded at being 
 reckoned a schoolmaster, but he quickly 
 overcame it, and was happy in the thought. 
 
 He prevailed upon the village school- 
 master to go on with the history of his life. 
 He was a good mathematician, had been 
 employed in the land-registry and in the 
 custom-house ; he lost his situation when 
 the Zollverein was established ; for two 
 years he looked round for something to 
 do, almost in a starving condition, and then 
 became a schoolmaster. He had married 
 well, that is, into a wealthy family, so that 
 he was able to give his sons a good education. 
 
 Evening had come on. Eric promised 
 the village schoolmaster to give him some- 
 thing to do with the instruction of Roland. 
 
 Knopf accompanied Eric for some dis- 
 tance, and then requested him to mount his 
 horse. 
 
 Knopf stood looking after Eric for a 
 long time, until he was hidden by a bend 
 of the mountain, and his puffed lips ad- 
 dressed words in a low tone to him, after 
 he had disappeared. 
 
174 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 On the way home, Eric was surprised 
 that he thought less about Roland, than he 
 did about Manna, who was to arrive this 
 evening. 
 
 Laughable old stories, how the tutor fell 
 in love with the daughter of the house, and 
 was expelled by the hard-hearted, rich 
 father, and here he stands before the house 
 all lighted up, he hears music; above, the 
 lovely one celebrates her marriage with a 
 very noble coxcomb, and a pistoUshot — 
 no ; it would be more practical to find some 
 better situation. 
 
 Eric had humor enough to dismiss every 
 such fancy ; he would remain distant, com- 
 posed, and respectful towards the daughter 
 of the house. 
 
 When he rode up to the villa, the car- 
 riages had already arrived, and Eric re- 
 ceived from Herr Sonnenkamp a reproof 
 for his want of friendliness in not remain- 
 ing at home, or taking note of the hour of 
 their arrival. 
 
 After the conversation that he had had 
 with Knopf, the feeling of being in service 
 seemed to him now very strange ; or was 
 this reception intended to give him a hint 
 of how he was to conduct himself towards 
 Manna ? 
 
 Eric made no reply to the reprimand, 
 for such it was. He came to Roland, who 
 warmly embraced him and cried, — 
 
 " Ah ! with you only is it well, all the 
 rest are — " 
 
 "Say nothing about the rest, 1 ' inter- 
 rupted Eric. 
 
 But he could not restrain Roland from 
 relating the disappointment of all, that 
 Manna did not return with them. 
 
 Eric breathed more freely. 
 
 Roland mixed up in his relation an ac- 
 count of Bella's getting out at the water- 
 cure establishment on their return, because 
 a message from Count Clodwig had in- 
 formed her that he would meet her there. 
 Finally he said, — 
 
 "What does all the rest amount to? 
 You are there in the convent, and I have 
 told Manna that you look just like the 
 Saint Anthony in the church of the con- 
 vent. Yes, laugh, if you please ! If he 
 should laugh, he would laugh just like you ; 
 he looked just as you look now. Manna 
 told me the story. The saint has been 
 praying to heaven, and the Christ-child has 
 laid himself there in his arms, when he was 
 all alone, and he looks at him so lovingly, 
 so devoutly." 
 
 Eric was thrilled ; a pure living being 
 has also been given into his hands. Is 
 he worthy to receive it, and can his look 
 rest purely upon it ? 
 
 They sat together without speaking, and 
 Roland, at last, cried, — . 
 
 " We will not leave each other again, 
 ever. To-day when I sat there upon the 
 deck, all alone, it seemed to me — I was 
 not asleep, I was wide awake — it seemed 
 that you came, and took me in your arms 
 and held me." 
 
 Roland's face glowed ; he was feverishly 
 excited, and Eric had great difficulty in 
 calming him down. But what he could' not 
 easily do was easy for the dogs ; Roland 
 became the sell-forgetting child again, 
 when he was with the dogs, who had grown 
 so astonishingly in a few days. > 
 
 Pranken also came in a very friendly 
 way to Eric, and said that he admired his 
 stimulating power, for Roland had exhib- 
 ited during their absence a susceptibility 
 of mind and a se#sitiveness of feeling, 
 which no one would have supposed him 
 capable of. 
 
 Now say what you please, candid reader ! 
 Yesterday, an hour ago, you held in little 
 esteem some man's 'judgment, you saw dis- 
 tinctly his limitations, and now he shows 
 that he recognizes your worth, he praises 
 you, he extols you, and suddenly, without 
 being aware of it, your opinion is changed 
 •concerning him whom you before regarded 
 as one-sided and contracted, especially if 
 you are a person struggling with yourself, 
 withdrawn into yourself, and often self- 
 doubting. 
 
 This was the case with Eric. Pranken 
 seemed to him a man of very good judg- 
 ment, very amiable indeed ; and he even 
 expressed openly his satisfaction, that the 
 friends of the family stood by him and 
 cheered him in his difficult work of educa- 
 tion. 
 
 Pranken was content ; Eric manifestly 
 acknowledged his position ; he showed this 
 by not accompanying them on the journey, 
 and not thrusting himself into the family ; 
 perhaps also there was a certain touch of 
 pride in not wanting to appear as a part of 
 the retinue ; at any rate, Eric did not seem 
 destitute of tact. 
 
 Pranken understood how to make this 
 patronizing protection appear as a sort of 
 friendly confidence. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 ENTICEMENTS ABROAD. 
 
 Eric and Roland lived together in the 
 castle, for so the rooms in the turret were 
 called, as if they had taken possession of 
 a new abode, and were all alone ; no sound 
 from the human world penetrated here, 
 nothing but the song of birds, and the ring- 
 ing of the bells of the village church on the 
 mountain. 
 
 A regular employment of the time was 
 instituted; until noon they knew nothing 
 of what was going on in the house, and 
 Roland lived almost exclusively in the 
 thought of Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 New analogies were continually present- 
 ing themselves, and it \w$ especially pro- 
 ductive of them that an American youth, a 
 rich youth besides, who had never been de- 
 prived of anything, should lay out for 
 himself a life full of deprivations. Roland 
 lived and moved wholly in Franklin ; he 
 spoke, at the table, of Benjamin Franklin, 
 as if he were a man who had just appeared, 
 and was invisibly present and speaking with 
 them. Roland wished to keep a. regular 
 record of what he thought and did, exactly 
 as Franklin had done, but Eric restrained 
 him, knowing that he would not persevere 
 in it, being as yet too fickle. And this call- 
 ing one's self to account was peculiarly 
 adapted to one who stood alone, or was 
 seeking the way by himself. But Roland 
 was with Eric from morning till night. 
 They repeated Franklin's physical experi- 
 ments, they entered into his various little 
 narratives, and Roland would often ask on 
 some occurrence : — 
 
 "What would Franklin say to that? 11 
 Eric had been in doubt whether he should 
 say anything to Roland of the interview 
 with Herr Knopf. He was waiting for a 
 more suitable time ; he felt that the fixed 
 order of Roland's method of life should 
 not now be disturbed. 
 
 There was a great commotion at the 
 villa, for the entire contents of tiie hot- 
 house were brought out into the park, and 
 a new garden was made in the garden. 
 Roland and Eric did not see it until every- 
 thing was arranged. 
 
 Pranken made a brief visit almost every 
 day, and when be remained to dinner, he 
 spoke a great deal of the princes of the 
 church ; he always called the bishop the 
 church-prince. A second court-life seemed 
 to have been opened to him, and this court 
 had a consecrating element, was self-order- 
 ing, and needed jio Court-marshals. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp enquired with much 
 interest about all the arrangements at the 
 
 Episcopal court ; but Frau Ceres was wholly 
 indifferent, for she had discovered that 
 there was no court ball given, and no ladies 
 were visible, except some very worthy and 
 respectable nuns. Frau Ceres entertained 
 a great dislike to all nuns, principally be- 
 cause they had such great feet, and wore 
 such clumsy shoes .and cotton gloves. 
 Frau Ceres hated cotton gloves ; and when- 
 ever she thought of them, she affirmed that 
 she experienced a nervous shiver. 
 
 The days were still ; the trees from the 
 South grew green and fragrant, with those 
 that were native to the soil ; but the quiet 
 days came to an end, for they were packing 
 up and making other preparations in the 
 house. Lootz was the director, and huge 
 trunks had already been sent off. 
 
 It was a rainy morning : Eric and Roland 
 were sitting together with Franklin^ life 
 again before them: Eric perceived that 
 Roland was inattentive, for he often looked 
 towards the door. 
 
 At last there was a knock, and Sonnen- 
 kamp, who had never before disturbed their 
 morning's occupation, now entered the room. 
 He expressed his satisfaction that the course 
 of instruction had been so regularly ar- 
 ranged, and he hoped that it would suffer 
 only a temporary derangement from the 
 journey, as they could immediately resume 
 it on arriving at Vichy. 
 
 Eric asked in amazement what this refer- 
 ence to Vichy meant, and was told that the 
 family, with the whole corps of servants, 
 male and female, as well as Roland and 
 Eric, were going to the mineral baths of 
 Vichy, and from there to the sea-baths at 
 Biarritz. 
 
 Eric composed himself with great effort ; 
 the str uggle had come sooner than he antici- 
 pated, and he said that he did not know 
 what Roland thought about it, but that, for 
 his own part, he had made up his mind, that 
 he #>uld not take the journey to the Baths. 
 
 " You cannot go with us ? Why not ? " 
 
 "It is unpleasant to me to make this 
 declaration in Roland^ presence, but I 
 think that he is sufficiently mature to com- 
 prehend this matter. I think, I am firmly 
 convinced, that a serious course of study 
 cannot be resumed at a fashionable water- 
 ing-place, and then continued at Biarritz. 
 I cannot begin the instruction after my 
 pupil has been hearing, in the morning, all 
 kinds of music at the fountains. No hu- 
 man being can be confined there to earnest 
 and fixed thought. As I said, I consider 
 Roland mature enough to decide for him- 
 self. I will remain here at the villa, if you 
 desire it, until your return." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at Eric in astonish- 
 
176 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 merit, and Roland, supplicatingly. Sonnen- 
 kamp did not appear to rely upon his self- 
 command sufficiently to meet the family 
 tutor in the requisite manner, and he there- 
 fore said in a careless tone that the matter 
 could be discussed in the evening. In a half- 
 contemptuous manner, he begged pardon 
 for not having informed Eric of his plans 
 for the summer at the University-town. 
 
 Eric now sat alone with Roland, who, in 
 silence, looked down at the lioor. Eric let 
 him alone for awhile, saying to himself, 
 Now is the critical time, now is the trial to 
 be made. 
 
 " Do you understand the reasons," he at 
 length asked, " why I cannot and will not 
 continue our life of study, this life that we 
 pursue together, in a place of amuse- 
 ment ? " 
 
 "I do not understand them," said the 
 boy, perversely. 
 
 " Shall I explain them ? " 
 
 "It is not necessary," replied the boy, 
 sullenly. 
 
 Eric said nothing, and the silence enabled 
 the boy to realize how he was behaving ; 
 but there was something in the soul of the 
 youth that rebelled against anything like 
 subjection. Taking up a different topic, 
 Roland asked : — 
 
 " Have I not been diligent and obedient? " 
 
 41 As it is proper that you should be." 
 
 " Do I not deserve now some amuse- 
 ment?" 
 
 " No. The performance of duty is not 
 paid for, and certainly not by amusement." 
 
 Again there was a long silence, the boy 
 turning up and down the corners of the 
 biography of Franklin, which he had just 
 been reading. Without saying anything, 
 Eric took the book out of his hand and laid 
 it down. With his hand upon the cover, 
 he asked, — 
 
 " What do you think that Franklin would 
 now say to you ? " * 
 
 " I can't tell what he would say." 
 
 " You can, but you do not choose to." 
 
 "No, I cannot," said the boy. He 
 stamped insolently with his foot, and his 
 voice was choked with tears. 
 
 " I have a better opinion of you than 
 you have of yourself," said Eric, taking hold 
 of the boy's chin. " Look at ine, don't look 
 down to the earth, don't be out of humor. 11 
 
 Roland's countenance was unmoved, and 
 the tears .stood motionless in his eyes. 
 Eric continued, — 
 
 " Is there any good thing in the world 
 that I would not like to give you ? 11 
 
 "No; but " 
 
 " Well, but what ? Goon." 
 
 " Ah, I don^ know any. And yet — yet 
 
 — do go for my sake, go with us ; I could 
 not take pleasure if you were not with us 
 
 — I there, and you here alone." 
 
 " Would you like to journey then with- 
 out me ? " 
 
 " I will not do it, you are to go too ! " 
 said the boy, springing up and throwing 
 himself upon Eric's neck. 
 
 " I declare to you most decidedly, I do 
 not go with you." 
 
 Roland let his hands fall, when Eric 
 grasped them, saying, — 
 
 " I could also say in my turn, Do stay 
 here for my sake ; but I will not. Look up 
 brightly, and think how it would be if we 
 remain together here. Your parents travel 
 to the Baths ; we stay here and learn some- 
 thing regularly, and are happier than we 
 should be on the promenade, with the music 
 of the saloon, happier than by the sea-shore. 
 See, Roland, I have never been to France, 
 nor seen the sea. I renounce the. pleasure, 
 I prefer the duty ; and do yoil know where 
 my duty lies ? " 
 
 "Ah, the duty can go with us wherever 
 we go," cried the boy, smiling amidst his 
 tears. Eric was obliged to laugh too ; at 
 last he said, - - 
 
 "This duty cannot travel abroad. You 
 have had distractions enough all your life. 
 Come, be my dear comrade, my good fellow. 
 Have confidence in me, that I can see rea- 
 sons which you cannot." 
 
 " Y"es, I do have confidence, but it is so 
 splendid, you can^ imagine it, and I will 
 show everything to you." 
 
 A whirlwind seemed to have seized Ro- 
 land, so that he turned round and round. 
 It came over him with a rush, that he had 
 forced Eric to remain with him, that he had 
 forced his father to give Eric to him, and 
 now he was about to desert him ! But there 
 was the enticement of the music, the pleas- 
 ant journeys, the protecting ladies, and the 
 roguish girls who played with him. Sud- 
 denly he cried, — "Eric! thy mother!" 
 for she had said to him on taking leave, 
 Be so worthy, that Eric will never leave 
 you ! This thought was now aroused with- 
 in him, and on the other hand, there were 
 the carriages driving, and the merry troop 
 riding on horseback, and he among them. 
 How could this old, grave lady, clad in 
 mourning, who stood in the path, detain 
 him ? It was like a feverish waking dream. 
 
 "Eric! thy mother!" cried he again, 
 and then he said, embracing him, — 
 
 " Eric ! I remain with you ! now help me, 
 so that they shall not take me away without 
 you." 
 
 " You are not to be obstinate with your 
 parents, but you have now also a duty to 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 177 
 
 me ; you must not leave me, as I must not 
 leave you." 
 
 It was a hard struggle to gain the con- 
 sent of the parents to Roland's remaining 
 at the villa with Eric. Frau Ceres was 
 brought over the soonest, but Sonnenkamp 
 held out, and Roland looked on in per- 
 plexity. The desire arose in him that his 
 father would withhold his consent, and Eric 
 be prevailed on to go with them. 
 
 Eric took the father aside, and told him 
 that he considered it would be the ruin of 
 Roland, if now when he bad voluntarily 
 pledged himself, and was constrained to do 
 what was best, the whole should be upset ; 
 the youth had never, on account of various 
 distractions, come to any knowledge of him- 
 self, lie declared that, grievous as it would 
 be to him, he should be obliged to leave the 
 family, if Roland went with them. He had 
 not said this to Roland, for Roland should 
 not be permitted to think upon the possi- 
 bility of the tie being severed. He be- 
 sought Sonnenkamp to employ now a little 
 policy ; it would not be wrong. He was to 
 say to Roland, that he wanted to test his 
 constancy, and he was glad that he had 
 stood the trial ; that he had hoped Roland 
 would make the proposal to stay with Eric, 
 and he gave his consent. 
 
 Inwardly chafing, Sonnenkamp complied 
 with this proposition, and Roland saw him- 
 self released on the one side, and bound on 
 the other. 
 
 On the next day, the parents set out on 
 the journey. 
 
 Eric and Roland drove with them to the 
 railroad station, and when the approaching 
 train was signalized to be near, Sonnen- 
 kamp took his son aside, and said to him, — 
 
 " My boy, if it is too hard for you, jump 
 into the car, and leave the Doctor to him- 
 self. Believe me, he won't run away from 
 you ; there is a golden whistle by which 
 every pne can be called. Be bold, young 
 fellow." 
 
 "Father, is this also a part of the test 
 you have put me to ? " 
 
 " You are a plucky youth," answered 
 Sonnenkamp, with emotion. 
 
 The train rumbled in. A great number 
 of black trunks, studded with yellow nails, 
 were put on board, Joseph and Lootz show- 
 ing themselves expert travelling-marshals. 
 Boxes, bags, portmanteaus, bottles, and 
 packages were placed in the first-class car 
 which Sonnenkamp, Frau Ceres and Fräu- 
 lein Perini occupied. Roland was kissed 
 once more, Sonnenkamp whispering at the 
 same time something in his ear. The 
 train rolled away, and Eric and Roland stood 
 alone on the station-steps. 
 
 They went silently back to the villa. 
 Roland looked pale ; every drop of blood 
 seemed to have left his face. They reached 
 the villa, where all was so silent and deso- 
 late. 
 
 After they had got out of the carriage, 
 Roland .grasped Eric's hand, saying, — 
 
 " Now we two are alone in the world. 
 What can one undertake at such a time ? " 
 
 The wind roared in gusts through the 
 park, and shook the trees, whose blossoms 
 went whirling into the air, while the river 
 tossed up its waves ; a thunder-storm was 
 coming on. 
 
 Eric ordered the horses to be put again 
 to the carriage, and entered it with Roland, 
 who asked, — 
 
 ' ' Where are we going ? " 
 
 Eric quieted him with the assurance that 
 he was about to show him a miracle. They 
 drove down the road, where the wind was 
 dashing about the branches of the nut-trees, 
 while the lightning flashed and the* thunder 
 rolled overhead. 
 
 " Where are we driving ? " Roland asked 
 again. 
 
 "We are now going to school to Frank- 
 lin. I can now show you how the lightning 
 is tamed." And they drove on to the rail- 
 road station. 
 
 The telegraphist gave Eric a very friend- 
 ly reception. Eric showed his pupil, in the 
 office of the telegraph, the electrical current 
 in a pretty little glass box, where a blue 
 spark darted rapidly hither and thither, and 
 then vanished over the connecting wires. 
 At every flash a sharp click came from the 
 connecting rods, and, at the same instant, 
 the little blue flame appeared and then van- 
 ished. 
 
 Eric was glad to be able to exhibit this to 
 his pupil, and the telegraphist added many 
 important and interesting details. He re- 
 lated how they were inexpressibly troubled 
 in their communications during a thunder- 
 storm, for incomprehensible words came 
 over the wires, and he was once hurled by 
 a shock of electricity against the stove yon- 
 der. He showed the metal plates to draw 
 off the lightning, which often struck and 
 cut off the conducting rods as nicely as if 
 done with a sharp file. 
 
 They had removed the lights, and saw 
 only the little blue flame, which Roland 
 watched with childish delight. It was easy 
 to explain the operation of the electro-mag- 
 netic telegraph, and Roland said, — 
 
 "Even if Franklin was not acquainted 
 with this, he yet first caught the lightning." 
 
 " Do you think that he could know, what 
 would be the results ? " 
 
 Eric endeavored to explain to Roland, 
 
178 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 that in all discovery, invention, creation and 
 action, there is a great bond of unity, a 
 continual process of development. And 
 here in this dark roorri, while the little blue 
 flame was dancing, and the three persons 
 hardly venturing to speak aloud soon be- 
 came utterly speechless, the soul, of the 
 youth was touched with a feeling of devo- 
 tion, and raised far above the range of 
 ordinary experience. The separation from 
 his parents, the pleasure that had allured 
 him, all had vanished, had sunk out of sight, 
 as if he were living on some star remote 
 from the earth. 
 
 The storm had ceased, and a copious rain 
 was falling ; when the window was re-op- 
 ened, lloland said, gently taking Eric's 
 hand, and looking out into the night, — 
 
 " Can one not imagine, that the soul in 
 the bodies of human beings moves like the 
 electrical spark on the wire ? " 
 
 Eric made no reply. He saw that the 
 boy was beginning to see something of the 
 enigma of life ; he must work it out for him- 
 self, and could not and must not be helped 
 at present. And this trifling question gave 
 assurance that the higher life could be pre- 
 served in the youth ; he had overcome the 
 desire of dissipation, and had given himself 
 up to what could not be made slavishly sub- 
 ject to his will. 
 
 The telegraphist gave an account of Son- 
 nenkamp's frightful appearance and conduct 
 on the night that Roland was missing. He 
 said in a low tone to Eric, that he himself 
 was afraid of the man, and that notwith- 
 standing the considerable sum of money 
 which he offered him to remain there through 
 the night, he had pleaded as an excuse the 
 want of official orders, because he would 
 not remain alone with Sonnenkamp for all 
 the gol'd in the world. 
 
 Eric perceived that Roland had heard the 
 last remark notwithstanding the low tone, 
 and said in a jesting way, that a man who 
 has to deal with the nervous filaments ex- 
 tended over the earth might very readily 
 become nervous himself. 
 
 The telegraphist assented, and had many 
 wonderful stories to tell. When Eric went 
 with Roland into the passenger's room, he 
 was surprised to see Roland's quick eye for 
 the laughable characteristics of people. He 
 had observed very shrewdly the peculiari- 
 ties of the telegraphist, and imitated him 
 very exactly. Without a direct rebuff, 
 Eric endeavored to explain to his pupil, 
 that those persons who are partly engaged 
 in work, and partly in science, in that middle 
 region of the vocations of life, such as 
 apothecaries, surgical operators, lithograph- 
 ists, photographists, and telegraphists, are I 
 
 easily carried from one extreme to the other. 
 Telegraphy created a certain excitability, 
 and susceptibility, on account of the direct 
 arousing of the faculties and the operation 
 at great distances, which give to the soul a 
 certain tension and excitation. 
 
 Eric sought to explain all this to his 
 pupil ; he would have liked to give him the 
 just views which are embraced in the 
 knowledge of psychological principles, but 
 he led him back to the wonderful in what 
 they had seen, and he succeeded in his pur- 
 pose of deeply impressing this upon the 
 soul. 
 
 The stars were glittering in' the heavens, 
 when they returned home from their glance 
 into the mysterious primitive force of earth's 
 being. 
 
 Eric could not restrain the impulse to 
 picture to his scholar what had been proba- 
 bly the feelings of that people of the des- 
 ert, on the evening of that day when Jeho- 
 vah had revealed himself to them in thunder 
 and lightning upon Mount Sinai ; how it 
 must have been with them when they went 
 to rest, and how it must have seemed to the 
 souls of thousands, as if the world were 
 created anew. 
 
 Eric hardly knew what he was saying, as 
 he drove through the refreshed and glisten- 
 ing starry night. But the feelings of the 
 boy and the man were devotional. And 
 after they reached home neither wished to 
 speak one word, and they quietly bade each 
 other good-night. But* Eric could not go 
 to sleep for a long time. Is the light in the 
 soul of a human being an incomprehensible 
 electric spark that cannot be laid hold of, 
 and which flashes up in resolve and act? 
 So long as there is no storm in the sky we 
 send at will the spark over the extended 
 wire ; but when the great, eternally unsub- 
 dued, primitive forces of nature manifest 
 themselves, the human message is no longer 
 transmitted, and the sparks spontaneously 
 play upon the conducting wires. Chaos 
 sends forth an unintelligible message. 
 
 A time will come when thou shalt no 
 longer be master of the living soul of thy 
 pupil, in which, with all thy heedful precau- 
 tion, rude, uncontrolled elements are at 
 work. What then? 
 
 There is no security given for the whole 
 future, and in the meantime, what concerns 
 us is to fulfil quietly and faithfully the duty 
 of the day. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE FRUIT IS SET ON THE GRAPE-VINE. 
 
 There is stillness in the vineyards on 
 the mountain-side, and no persons are 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 179 
 
 among the green rows, for the vines, which 
 until now were allowed free growth, have 
 been tied up so that the blossoms may not 
 nutter about. The hidden blossom makes 
 no show, but a sweet fragrance, just faintly 
 perceptible, is diffused through the air. 
 Now, the vine needs the quiet sunshine by 
 day, and the warm breeze by night; the 
 bloom must be set- as fruit, but the flavour, 
 the aroma, and the strength are not brought 
 out until the autumn. After the fruit has 
 become set, storm and tempest may come ; 
 the fruit is vigorous, and sure of attaining 
 its future noble destiny. 
 
 Roland and Eric went hand in hand over 
 the country, with no definite object in view ; 
 the town was quiet, and the scattered coun- 
 try-house's were deserted. 
 
 Bella, Clodwig, and Pranken had set out 
 on a journey to Gastein, the Major to Tep- 
 litz, the Justice with his wife and daughter 
 to Kissingen. Only the doctor remained 
 at his post, and he is now alone, for his wife 
 has gone to visit her daughter and grand- 
 children. Eric had determined at the very 
 first, before he knew of the journey to the 
 Baths and of -being alone, to decline every 
 distraction and every connection with a 
 wide circle of acquaintance, wishing to de- 
 vote himself exclusively and entirely, with 
 all his energies, to Roland. And so they 
 were noAv inseparably together, from early 
 in the morning until bedtime. 
 
 He only who lives with nature, day in and 
 day out knows all the changes of light, so 
 various and fleeting, and only he who lives 
 exclusively with one person knows thor- 
 oughly the sudden upspringings of thought, 
 when all is illuminated and stands out in 
 prominent relief. Eric was well aware that 
 Roland frequently dwelt upon the pleasures 
 and dissipations of a life at the Baths, and 
 that the youth had often to force himself to 
 a uniform round of duty, struggling and 
 inwardly protesting to some extent against 
 it ; but Eric looked upon it as the prancing 
 of an untamed horse, who resists bit and 
 bridle, but soon is proud of his trappings. 
 Numberless elements influence, move, form, 
 and expand whatever is in process of 
 growth ; man can bend and direct that 
 which is taking form and shape, but to 
 affect the changes beyond this stage is not 
 in his power. 
 
 Eric brought three different influences to 
 bear upon his pupil. They continued to 
 read Franklin's life ; Roland was to see a 
 whole man on every side. The political 
 career, which Franklin gradually entered 
 upon, was as yet not within the range of 
 the youth's comprehension ; but he was to 
 form some idea of such varied activity, and 
 
 Eric knew, too, that no one can estimate 
 what may abide as a permanent possession 
 in a young soul, even from what is but par- 
 tially understood. The White House at 
 Washington took rank in Roland's fancy 
 with the Acropolis at Athens and the Cap- 
 itol at Rome ; he often spoke of his ardent 
 desire to go on a pilgrimage thither. 
 
 It was hard to fix the youth's attention 
 upon the establishment of the American 
 Republic and the formation of the Consti- 
 tution, but he was kept persistently to it. 
 
 Eric chose, for its deep insight, Ban- 
 croft's History of the United States. 
 
 They read, at the same time, the life of 
 Crassus by Plutarch, and also Longfellow's 
 Hiawatha. The impression of this poem 
 was great, almost overlaying all the rest ; 
 here the New World has its mythical and 
 its romantic age in the Indian legend, and 
 it seems to be the work not of one man, 
 but of the spirit of a whole people. The 
 planting of corn is represented under a 
 mythological form, as full of life as any 
 which the myth-creating power of antiquity 
 can exhibit. 
 
 Hiaw r atha invents the sail, makes streams 
 navigable, and banishes disease ; but Hia- 
 watha's Fast, and the mood of exaltation 
 and self-forgetfulness consequent thereon, 
 made upon Roland the deepest impression. 
 
 " Man only is capable of that ! " cried 
 Roland. 
 
 "Capable of what?" asked Eric. 
 
 "Man only can fast, can voluntarily re- 
 nounce food." 
 
 From this mythical world of the past, 
 which must necessarily retire before the 
 bright day in the progress of civilization, 
 they passed again to the study of the first 
 founding of the great American Republic. 
 Franklin again appeared here, and seemed 
 to become the central point for Roland, 
 taking precedence even of Jefferson, who 
 not only proclaimed first the eternal and 
 inalienable rights of man, but made them 
 the very foundation of a nation's life. Ro- 
 land and Eric saw together how this Cru- 
 soe-settlement on a large scale, as Frederic 
 Kapp calls it, unfolded into a high state of 
 culture ; and that sad weakness and com- 
 promise, which did not immediately abolish 
 slavery, also constituted a knotty point of 
 investigation. 
 
 "Do you think the Niggers are human 
 beings like us ? " asked Roland. - 
 
 "Undoubtedly; they have language and 
 the power of thought, just as we have." 
 
 ' ' I once heard it said, that they could 
 not learn mathematics," interposed Roland. 
 
 "I never heard that before, and proba- 
 bly it is a mistake." 
 
180 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Eric did not go any farther in this ex- 
 position ; he wished to cast no imputation 
 upon the father, who had owned large plan- 
 tations tilled by slaves. It was sufficient 
 that questions were coming up in the boy's 
 mind. 
 
 Nothing better ,could have been con- 
 trived for Eric and Roland, than for them 
 to learn something together. The archi- 
 tect, a man skilled in his business, and 
 happy to have so early in life such an ex- 
 cellent commission entrusted to him, was 
 communicative and full of information. 
 The castle had been destroyed, as so many 
 others were, by the barbarous soldiers of 
 Louis XIV. encamped in Germany, exactly 
 a hundred years before the French Revo- 
 lution. An old main-tower, the so-called 
 Keep, had still some remains of Roman 
 walls, concrete walls, as the architect called 
 them. 
 
 "What is concrete?" asked Roland. 
 The architect explained that the inside and 
 outside layers consisted of quarry stone 
 laid in regular masonry, and between, 
 stones of altsizes were thrown in* and then 
 the whole was evidently cemented together 
 with a sort of heated mortar. 
 
 Only one-third of the tower had aper- 
 tures "for light ; the rest was solid stone 
 wall. 
 
 The whole region had made use of the 
 castle as a stone-quarry, and the corners 
 had especially suffered, because they con- 
 tained the best stones. The whole was 
 grown over with shrubbery, the castle- 
 dwelling had wholly disappeared, and the 
 castle itself, originally Roman, had proba- 
 bly been rebuilt in the style of the tenth 
 century. From a drawing found in the ar- 
 chives only a few additional characteristics 
 could be made out, but from single stones 
 and angles much of the general structure 
 could be copied, and the architect showed 
 how he had planned the whole, and he was 
 particularly glad to have discovered the 
 spring, out of which they had taken, to use 
 his own expression, "a great deal of rub- 
 bish and dirt/' 
 
 The insight into the inner mystery of a 
 man's active calling produced a deep im. 
 pression upon the youth, and he followed 
 out the whole plan of construction with 
 great diligence; and he and Eric always 
 placed before them, as a reward for actual 
 work accomplished, this instructive conver- 
 sation with the architect, and even fre- 
 quently a permission to be actively em- 
 ployed. It was a favorite thought of Ro- 
 land's to live here at some future time 
 alone at the castle, and he wanted to have 
 had some hand in the building. 
 
 Roland and Eric were regularly but no 
 accidently, at the castle when the masons 
 and the laborers engaged in excavation were 
 paid off on Saturday evening. The time 
 for leaving off work being an hour earlier 
 than usual, the barber came from the town 
 and shaved the masons, and then they 
 washed themselves at the fountain ; *a 
 baker-woman with bread also came out 
 from the town, and the workmen placed 
 themselves, one after another, under the 
 porch of a small house that had been tem- 
 porarily erected. Roland frequently stood 
 inside the room, with the foremen, and 
 heard only the brief words, — 
 
 "You receive so much, and you, so 
 much." 
 
 He saw the hard hands which received 
 the pay. Frequently he stood outside 
 among the workmen themselves, or by 
 their side, observing them ; and the boys 
 of his own age received his particular no- 
 tice, and he thanked all heartily, when they 
 saluted him. Most of them had a loaf of 
 bread wrapped up in a cloth under their 
 arm, and they went off to the villages 
 where they lived, ofteri singhig until they 
 were out of hearing. 
 
 Eric knew that it was not in accordance 
 with Sonnenkamp's ideas for Roland thus 
 to become familiar with different modes of 
 life, for he had once heard him say, — 
 
 " He who wishes to build a castle need 
 not know all the carters and quarrymen in 
 the stone-pits around." 
 
 But Eric considered it his duty to let 
 Roland have an unprejudiced acquaintance 
 with a mode of life different from his own. 
 He saw the expression of Roland's large 
 eyes while they were sitting upon a pro- 
 jecting point of the castle, where the 
 thyme sent up its sweet odor around them, 
 and they looked out over mountain and val- 
 ley, with the bells sending out their peal for 
 the Sunday-eve ; and he felt happy, for he 
 knew that an eye which so looked upon the 
 hard-working hands, and a thought which 
 so followed the laborers returning to their 
 homes, was forming an internal state that 
 could not be hardheartedly unmindful of 
 one's fellow-men. Thus was a moral and 
 intellectual foundation laid in the soul of 
 the youth. Eric took good heed not to dis- 
 turb the germinating seed by exposing it to 
 the light. 
 
 One evening, when they were sitting upon 
 the castle, the sun had already gone down, 
 and the tops of the mountains only were 
 tinged with the glowing sunset, while the 
 village, with its blue slate-roofs and the 
 evening smoke rising straight in the air, 
 seemed like a dream — Roland said, — 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 181 
 
 " I should like to know, how it is that no 
 castles are to be found in America." 
 
 Eric repeated with pleasure Goethe's 
 verses, — 
 
 " America, to thee is given 
 A better fate than here is found! 
 ' No mouldering castle-towers hast thou, 
 No monumental columns fallen ; 
 No gloomy shadows of the past, 
 No vain and useless strife 
 Becloud thy* heavens serene. 
 To-day suffices with its good; 
 And, sing your children in poetic strains, 
 Be it on higher themes 
 
 Than robbers, knights, and haunting ghosts." 
 
 Roland learned them by heart, and 
 wanted to know more of Goethe. 
 
 In their quiet walks Eric repeated to 
 him many of Goethe's poems, in which not 
 man, but nature herself seems to have pro- 
 duced the expression. The towering spirit 
 of Goethe, with Hiawatha and Crassus, was 
 now added to the sedate and unexciting 
 study of Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 Roland felt deeply the influence of the 
 various moral and spiritual elements in 
 whose circle he lived. Eric was able to 
 quote apt passages from the classic poets 
 of antiquity, as well as of his own country 
 to his pupil. This revealed to Roland's 
 perception the double manifestation of all 
 life, and made him long for the real and 
 true . 
 
 One day, when Eric and Roland "were 
 sitting on the boundary of a field, they saw 
 a hare which ate a little, ran off, and then 
 ate again. Roland said, — 
 
 " Timid hare ! yes, why shouldn't he be 
 timid ? he has no weapons of attack or of 
 defence ; he can only run away." 
 
 Eric nodded, and the boy went on. 
 
 " Why are dogs the enemies of hares ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean, I can understand how the dog 
 and the fox are enemies ; they can both 
 bite : but why a dog should hate and pursue a 
 hare, that can do nothing but run, I can't 
 understand." In spite of all his knowledge, 
 Eric often found himself in a position where 
 nothing but conjecture could help him ; he 
 said, — 
 
 "I think that the dog in a wild state 
 found his chief food in the defenceless ani- 
 mals, as the fox does. The dog is really a 
 tame cousin of the fox; education has 
 changed him only so far that he now bites 
 hares to death, but does not eat them. Ani- 
 mals that feed on plants live in the open air, 
 but beasts of prey, in caves." 
 
 For a short time the boy sat silent, then 
 he suddenly said, — 
 
 " How strange ! " 
 
 ' < What is it?" 
 
 " You will laugh at me, but I have been 
 thinking," — as he spoke a bright smile 
 broke over the boy's face, showing the 
 dimples in his cheeks and chin, — "the 
 wild animals have no regular hours for their 
 meals, they eat*-all day long.; dogs have 
 only been trained by us men to take their 
 food at certain times." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Eric ; "the regula- 
 tion of our lives by fixed hours only begins 
 with education." 
 
 And without tedious or unnecessary dif- 
 fuseness, Eric succeeded in bringing before 
 his pupil what a great thing it is to measure 
 time, and to set our daily life to the rhythm 
 of the universe, of the whole starry world. 
 
 Improbable as it may seem, it was really 
 the fact, that from the time of this conver- 
 sation, which began with so small and in- 
 significant a matter, but took so wide a 
 range, the hours of study of the pair were 
 strictly fixed : Roland wished to have no 
 more unoccupied time. This was a great 
 step in his life ; what had before seemed 
 like tyranny was now a self-imposed law. 
 
 A few weeks later, Roland himself gave 
 up his favorite companions for Eric's sake. 
 On their walks through fields and over 
 mountains, and their visits to the castle, the 
 dogs had been taken as a matter of course. 
 Eric was ready to reply to every question 
 of his, pupil, but a disturbing companion was 
 always with them so long as Roland never 
 went out without one of his dogs, and there 
 could be no connected thought while the 
 eye rested on the animal, however involun- 
 tarily. The dog constantly looked up at 
 his master and wanted his presence acknowl- 
 edged, and wandering thoughts followed 
 him as he ran. It was difficult for Eric to 
 bring Roland tt> leave them at home ; he 
 did not directly order him to do it, but he 
 several times replied to his questions, by 
 saying that he could not answer when their 
 attention was given to calling the dogs and 
 watching their gambols. When this had 
 been repeated several times, Roland left the 
 dogs at home, and saw that Eric meant to 
 reward him for his sacrifice by his ready 
 answers to all his questions. Eric led Ro- 
 land into departments cf knowledge, but 
 took care not to impart too much at once ; 
 on many points he put him off till a later 
 period, drawing him constantly to follow 
 out the suggestions of his own observations. 
 
 Yonder lies the field, and there is the 
 vineyard where the grapes grow, collecting 
 and transmitting within themselves all the 
 elements which float in the air, or repose in 
 the earth; and more than all, the rolling 
 river sends forth into the fruit an immeasur- 
 
182 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 able strength and a mysterious fragrance. 
 The growth goes on by day and night, 
 through sunshine and dewy shade ; rain and 
 lightning and hail do their work, and the 
 plants live on to their maturity. Each sep- 
 arate plant is at first hardly to be noticed, 
 but it grows to meet its nature-appointed 
 destiny. 
 
 Who can name all the elements which 
 mould and build up a human soul ? Who 
 can say how much of what Eric cherished 
 in Roland has grown and thriven up to this 
 very hour? And yet this unbroken growth 
 brings the mysterious result which forms 
 our life. 
 
 Roland and Eric were present every 
 morning and evening when the lawns were 
 sprinkled, ana when the shrubs and flowers in 
 tubs and pots were watered ; they helped in 
 the work, and this endeavor to promote 
 growth seemed to satisfy a thirst in them- 
 selves. There was a sense of beneficence 
 in doing something to help the plants which 
 gave beauty and freshness to day and night. 
 
 " Tell me," Roland once asked timidly, 
 " why arc there thorns on a rose-bush." 
 
 "Why?" answered Eric. "Certainly 
 not that we may wound ourselves with 
 them. The butterfly and the bee do not 
 hurt themselves with the thorns of the rose 
 nor with the spines of the thistle ; they 
 only draw honey and pollen from the flower- 
 cups. Nature has not adapted herself to 
 the muscular conformation of man, nor in- 
 deed to man at all. Everything exists for 
 itself, and for us only so far as we know 
 how to use and enjoy it. But, Roland," he 
 added, as he saw that the boy did not well 
 understand him, *' your question is wrongly 
 
 put. For what purpose ? and why ? these 
 are questions for ourselves, not for the rose- 
 bush." 
 
 The park and garden blossomed and 
 grew, and everything in its place waited 
 quietly for the return of its master ; in 
 Roland, too, a garden was planted and care- 
 fully tended. And the thought comes, 
 Will the master of this garden, and will his 
 flowers and fruits, bring comfort and refresh- 
 ment to those who live with* him on the 
 earth ? 
 
 The nightingales in the park had grown 
 silent, the intoxicating sweetness of the 
 blossoms had fled, there was a quiet growth 
 everywhere. 
 
 And while the days were full of mental 
 activity, in the quiet nights Roland and 
 Eric walked along the mountain paths, and 
 feasted their eyes on the moonlit landscape, 
 where on one side the mountains threw 
 their shadows, and in sharp contrast the 
 moonlight rested on the vineyards, and the 
 stars shone above and sparkled in the 
 river. An air of blessed peace lay over 
 the landscape, and the wanderers drank it 
 in as they walked on, breaking the silence 
 only by an occasional word. These hours 
 brought the truest benediction ; in them 
 the soul wished only to breathe, to gaze, 
 to dream with open eyes, and to be con- 
 scious of the inner fulness, and of the on- 
 flowing, quiet, prosperous growth of na- 
 ture.' The vine draws nourishment from 
 earth and air, and in such hours all that is 
 developed in the soul by nameless forces 
 ripens there, with all that streams into it 
 from without. 
 
 \ 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 183 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A hunter's PLEASURE AND a hunter's 
 PAIN. 
 
 Eric took great care not to change Ro- 
 land's bold and determined character into 
 one of morbid enthusiasm. He interposed 
 between the studies an equal measure of 
 physical exercise, fencing, leaping, riding, 
 swimming, and rowing. He Avas glad that he 
 had to call in no other teacher, and he gained 
 new strength, and maintained his constant 
 intercourse with his pupil, by taking the 
 lead in these recreations. 
 
 With Fassbender's help, he also taught 
 Roland to take measurements out of doors. 
 Fassbender was extremely skilful in 
 such work, but he constantly showed a 
 humble subinissiveness towards Roland, 
 which caused Eric much vexation ; and 
 when he said one day that he should tell 
 his friend Knopf how industrious and 
 clever Roland was, the boy tossed his head 
 in displeasure. He evidently wished to 
 hear nothing more of Knopf; perhaps, too, 
 he had something in his memory of which 
 he would not speak to Eric. 
 
 Eric laid out « a shooting-ground for Ro- 
 land also, not wishing to withdraw him 
 from his accustomed life out of doors, 
 where he had roved at pleasure ; only it 
 was distinctly understood that exercise in 
 the open air was to come after mental 
 work, never before it. 
 
 One great difficulty lay in moderating 
 Roland's passion for hunting. Eric did not 
 wish to repress it altogether, but only to 
 keep it within due limits. Now, in mid- 
 summer, there was only rabbit-hunting, and 
 Claus came to take Roland out with him. 
 Former teachers had left Roland to go 
 alone with the huntsman, but Eric accom- 
 panied them, and Roland drew in new life 
 as they went through the vineyards. 
 
 Eric's attention was roused at hearing 
 Claus say that Manna had been an ex- 
 tremely bold rider, even as a little child, 
 and afterwards as a growing girl, and that 
 her father had always taken her with him 
 on a hunt, where she showed the wildest 
 spirit. Rose and Thistle were the dogs 
 which had belonged to her, and now when- 
 ever they heard her name, they noticed it 
 directly, and looked sharply round as if ex- 
 pecting her. 
 
 Eric would have liked to ask how it hap- 
 pened that a bold and spirited girl, who de- 
 lighted in hunting, could now be living like 
 a penitent in a convent. It was hard to 
 bring this picture of her, hunting with her 
 gun and with her dogs, into harmony with 
 the picture of the winged apparition. But 
 
 he took care to ask Roland no questions, 
 and behaved to the huntsman as if he had 
 known it all before. 
 
 His father had left Roland his favorite 
 dogs, Rose and Thistle ; they were small, 
 but powerfully built, with broad chest and 
 strong back, and they appeared to under- 
 stand when Roland praised them. The 
 smaller, the t female, with red chops and 
 many scars on her head, always licked 
 his hand while he extolled her wonderful 
 courage, and hung her head when he said 
 he was sorry that she was not so obedient 
 as the somewhat larger male, Thistle. 
 With sparkling eyes, which seemed to 
 glance with modest pleasure, Thistle looked 
 at Roland when he explained to Eric that 
 the dog would obey only English words, 
 but by r their use could be managed per- 
 fectly; if he called out to him "zurück! " 
 Thistle looked at him as if deaf; but the 
 moment he said " Come back ! " he fell back 
 a foot behind him. 
 
 They passed a low oak-tree ; Roland 
 seized a branch, and shook it, crying 
 "Hang!" and Thistle sprang up, caught 
 the branch with his sharp teeth, and re- 
 mained hanging to it till Roland told him 
 to let go. Rose performed the same trick, 
 and even outdid herself, for she whirled 
 round several times as she hung, and then, 
 with a sudden jerk, broke off the branch 
 and brought it to Roland. The boy and 
 the dogs were very happy together, and 
 seemed to understanü equally well where 
 they were going. 4 
 
 r ^hey went by the huntsman's house, 
 where the two ferrets were put into a 
 basket. On the edge of the wood, Roland 
 took out the pretty little yellow creatures, 
 which moved in a sort of snake-like way, 
 and put muzzles on them, caressing them 
 as he did it. They then went into the 
 thicket, where fresh burrows were soon 
 found ; over some of the outlets, nets were 
 spread, and Roland was delighted at the 
 skilful way in which Eric fastened them 
 down with pegs, which he made from twigs 
 cut from the trees. The ferrets were let 
 loose, and very soon a rustling was heard, 
 and some rabbits came into the nets, and 
 were soon bitten and shaken to death by 
 the dogs. The ferrets were sent in again, 
 and the hunters stood before the holes to 
 shoot the rabbits as they came out ; Roland 
 missed, but Eric hit his mark. 
 
 Eric was far from saying anything to Ro- 
 land of the cruelty shown, especially in the 
 net-hunting, and the manner in which the 
 dogs bit at the eyes of the poor creatures, 
 and never let go till all struggling ceased ; 
 he was enough of a hunter to overlook this. 
 
184 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 Claus knew how to smother pity by in- 
 veighing against the confounded rabbits, 
 which gnawed at the young vines and 
 spoiled them and all that was best in the 
 fields ; he imitated one of the peasants who 
 always struck at a rabbit with his stick, 
 crying, — 
 
 " Havel got you at last, you damned — " 
 
 After they had gone farther on, Rose 
 went into a hole, and they heard her bark- 
 ing deep down under ground. She had 
 found a fox. The hunter's excitement 
 awoke in Eric, and they all stood quietly 
 on the watch. Thistle was also sent into 
 the hole, and his bark was heard far below, 
 but the fox did not come out. Soon Rose 
 appeared with her nose torn and bleeding ; 
 she looked up at the hunters and went back 
 into the hole ; whining and barking were 
 heard, and at last the dogs came back, 
 streaming with blood, but no fox appeared ; 
 they waited long, but in vain. 
 
 "They have killed him," said the hunts- 
 man in triumph ; "we shall never get him." 
 
 Roland was full of tender compassion for 
 the dogs, but Claus consoled him with the 
 assurance that they would soon get over 
 their hurts. Roland said he could not un- 
 derstand how dogs could bite a fox to 
 death, when a fox had such sharp teeth ; 
 the huntsman shrugged his shoulders, but 
 Eric answered : — 
 
 "The fox bites sharply, but does not 
 hold on. 11 
 
 Roland looked at Eric in surprise, feel- 
 in & that he was a man from whom every- 
 thing could be learned ; all Eric's knowl- 
 edge had hardly made so much impression 
 as this single remark. 
 
 Again they sent the ferrets into a fresh 
 burrow ; only one came out ; they waited 
 long and left the huntsman on the spot, but 
 the second ferret was not to be seen. Ro- 
 land was inconsolable i'or the loss of the 
 fine little creature, so bright and tame. 
 "When Eric said tliat the animal would die 
 of hunger in the woods, with its mouth so 
 firmly muzzled, Roland walked on for some 
 time in silence. Suddenly he put his hand 
 into the basket, took out the other ferret 
 and let it loose, then took aim and shot it 
 down; he left the dead creature lying un- 
 disturbed in the wood, and walked home 
 with Eric without a word. He looked long 
 at his gun ; Eric knew that it would be 
 many days before its report would be heard 
 again, and so it was. 
 
 From the time of this last hunt, a cold- 
 ness and ill-humor, reluctance and li sties s- 
 ness, appeared in Roland ; he was not ex- 
 actly rebellious, but did everything without 
 interest, and often looked strangely at Eric. 
 
 Eric did not know what to do ; for sev- 
 eral days he was much disquieted, feeling 
 that he was no longer a novelty to Roland, 
 and that the sense of satiety which tor- 
 ments the rich, who never can long enjoy 
 the same thing, increased as it was in Ro- 
 land by his wandering life, was producing 
 apathy and discontent in him; he must be 
 taught to greet with pleasure the day which 
 brought no new thing, but only a repetition 
 of the day before. 
 
 The huntsman came to Eric, took him 
 aside, and said : — 
 
 "I've found the ferret that ran away 
 from us." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In the wood yonder, there it lies with 
 its muzzle on, starved to death, and eaten 
 up by the ants." 
 
 " We will say nothing of it to Roland." 
 
 " Certainly not. Do you know what the 
 ferret's name was ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It was Knopf. He only called it ' mas- 
 ter,' because you were present. It always 
 vexed me ; Herr Knopf is certainly super- 
 stitious, dreadfully superstitious, but one 
 of the best men in the world. Roland has 
 told me in confidence, that, on the journey 
 which he made to force you to come back, 
 a spirit appeared to him in the wood one 
 morning, a fairy-princess, as stupid, super- 
 stitious men would say, — a wonderful child 
 with light curling hair, but she spoke Eng- 
 lish, — only think, spirits speak English too 
 now, — she came to him early in the morn- 
 ing in the forest. .That's the sort of stuff 
 Herr Knopf has put into his head. I don't 
 want to say anything against Herr Knopf ; 
 he's a good man, he taught poor children 
 for nothing, and did good, much good, but 
 belief in spirits and such nonsense ought to 
 be put an end to. Don't you notice how 
 bad Roland looks now ? I think the belief 
 in spirits is to blame for this. Drive it out 
 of his mind right sharply." 
 
 Eric doubted whether this was what pro- 
 duced Roland's continued ill-humor, but 
 he was struck by his having told the hunts- 
 man something which he had never con- 
 fided to him. But he would not force his 
 confidence and disturb the boy's mind ; he 
 would wait quietly till the cloud passed 
 over. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FRESH WINE, FRESH SONG, AND FRESH 
 FAME. 
 
 The Doctor had called, in the meanwhile, 
 but only for a brief quarter of an hour at a 
 time ; he commended Eric for so taking 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 185 
 
 upon himself the entire direction of Roland, 
 and devoting himself to him so exclusively ; 
 he desired that no intervention of his 
 should interrupt the inflowing of the moral 
 and spiritual influence. 
 
 Eric now detained him, speaking of Ro- 
 land's paleness, which he thought an indica- 
 tion of sickness. 
 
 "Indeed? 1 ' cried the Doctor. "Has it 
 taken so soon? I am glad that it has made 
 its appearance on the surface so early and 
 so decidedly." 
 
 " What is it ? What is it, then ? " 
 
 " It's all right and normal ; symptoms all 
 good. My dear young friend, I call it usu- 
 ally the May-cold. Just consider a mo- 
 ment ! Roland was born for a huntsman, 
 and I was afraid you would turn him into a 
 pebble-gatherer or a beetle-sticker. I see 
 very plainly, that you would like to give 
 him a deeper apprehension of life, . but 
 there lies the danger that he will take it 
 too seriously ; now the best prescription for 
 life is, to take life easily." 
 
 Eric chimed in with this, acknowledg- 
 ing that he was far from desiring to make 
 Roland a pattern youth, perfect in every 
 particular. The Doctor continued : — 
 
 " As I said before, our lad is troubled with 
 the May-cold. Whenever there is a change 
 in the relations of life, as change of occupa- 
 tion, or marriage, where the previous inde- 
 pendence is given up, after the first weeks of 
 bloom, notwithstanding all the happiness 
 enjoyed, comes in the May-cold, just as 
 we see in nature. They say that it comes 
 from the Alps, from the melting of the ice- 
 bergs there ; perhaps icebergs of egotism melt 
 within, and at any rate, it is like a renewed 
 struggle of winter with summer, like a 
 struggle of solitariness with sociality. 
 Don't be despairing ! Let the days of chilly 
 convalescence pass over the lad, and all 
 will be well. Don't press him hard in 
 these days ; he is already beginning to feel 
 as if he had come under a yoke. More- 
 over, I will give him some medicine, 
 so that he ' shall think he is npt well ; this 
 will be an advantage to him, and to you 
 too, for you can then give way to him, as 
 an invalid is expected to be perverse, and 
 to be humored, as a matter of course." 
 
 The Doctor now came more frequently. 
 He proposed to Eric to make a longer visit 
 at Mattenheim, in accordance with Weid- 
 mann's invitation, as the contemplation of a 
 life full of a many-sided activity would re- 
 fresh both teacher and pupil. Eric replied 
 that he did not consider it right to leave, 
 for any length of time, the house that had 
 been entrusted to his care. The Doctor 
 assented, thinking it better that Roland 
 
 should first become thoroughly familiar 
 with the Rhine-home. 
 
 Eric and Roland now often accompanied 
 the Doctor some distance on his rounds, 
 and both acquired together a deeper ac- 
 quaintance with the life of the Rhineland. 
 The Doctor explained that he had an object 
 in this, holding that it was a very important 
 thing in a man's life to make a point of 
 getting the best wines that could be had, 
 and carrying out his point. Roland could 
 and should do that. It was no less impor- 
 tant to procure the good wine of the world, 
 than its beautiful works of art. And if a 
 sense of his dependence upon the Rhineland 
 were instilled into Roland, much that was 
 noble would result, especially if he could 
 be brought into connection with the family 
 of Weidmann. 
 
 The Doctor was the best of directories, 
 knowing every house and its inmates very 
 intimately, and speaking of everybody with 
 discriminating justice, showing the dark as 
 well as the bright side with equal impar- 
 tiality. House after house furnished them 
 with a refreshing sketch of life, and cellar 
 after cellar with a refreshing draught. 
 
 "They talk about the deterioration of 
 the race," said the Doctor edifyingly, " and 
 there seems to be a chronic ailment, but it 
 is not dangerous. People use themselves 
 as filters and pour in wine ; so it has always 
 been ; and so it will be. If the sun shines 
 very hot, they think they are entitled to 
 drink ; and if the weather is disagreeable 
 and wet, they must strengthen themselves 
 with a good draught." 
 
 They alighted at a house, which had in 
 front a statue of the Holy Mother with a lan- 
 tern in her hand. 
 
 " Up-stairs here," said the Docf^r, " pure 
 genuine wine is sold ; the man here supplies 
 the church and the church dignitaries with 
 the communion wine, which must be una- 
 dulterated. This man's father is a famous 
 embroiderer of church-cloths, and his 
 brother an illustrious painter of saints ; and 
 when people can turn their religion to any 
 profit, they it hold it in sacred earnest. The 
 main point is, not to impugn the uprightness 
 of believers, and then they are inclined not to 
 question the uprightness of us unbelievers." 
 
 They went on farther to another house, 
 and the Doctor said : — 
 
 " Here dwelt a merry rogue, who has ac- 
 tually made the house haunted ; he was an 
 old screech-owl, a mason by trade. It's 
 known that he had a little chest made by a 
 carpenter, with a lock by a lock-smith ; and 
 this chest he walled into the cellar, which 
 he built alone by himself. It is now be- 
 lieved that there must have been a consider- 
 
186 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 able sum of money concealed therein ; and 
 yet he may have been rogue enough to hide 
 there an empty box, in order to play a joke 
 upon those who should come after him. 
 And now the people are undecided whether 
 to pull down the house or not, in order to 
 find the box. It's possible they may find an 
 empty one, and have a demolished house 
 for their pains." 
 
 The Doctor gave such a turn to his infor- 
 mation about men and things, that Roland 
 could derive advantage from it. 
 
 The Doctor greeted in a very friendly 
 way an old man with a crafty countenance, 
 who was sitting in front of his house. The 
 man asked the physician if he would not 
 take another drop of "the black cat," and 
 they went with Eric and Roland into the 
 cellar, where they drank a fiery wine from 
 a cask on which, in fact, a black cat was 
 .sitting, though it was an artificial one with 
 shining glass eyes. The old man was ex- 
 cessively merry ; and clinking glasses with 
 Roland, he said : — 
 
 " Yes, yes, we are all bunglers compared 
 with your father." 
 
 Then, with great gusto, he praised the 
 shrewdness and craft of Sonnenkamp, and 
 Eric looked timidly at Roland, who appeared 
 to be but little affected by what was said ; 
 when they went away the Doctor said : — 
 
 " This is the genuine peasant, for the 
 genuine peasant is really the greatest ego- 
 tist, thinking only of his own profit, though 
 the whole world beside should fall to pieces. 
 This is the old burgomaster who lent money 
 to people needing it, and when a bad sea- 
 son came, he made an immediate demand 
 for it, with unrelenting harshness, so that 
 their vineyards were sold at public auction ; 
 and now he possesses a large landed prop- 
 erty, yielding the best wines. Yes ; he is a 
 cunning rascal." 
 
 This narrative produced a wholly differ- 
 ent impression upon Eric from what it did 
 upon Roland, for the latter considered that 
 the rascality was a matter of course. Eric ; 
 looked askance at the Doctor, for he could 
 not conceive how he could be on such 
 friendly terms with the burgomaster : and 
 when he further asked whether the man was 
 respected, he received an emphatic response 
 in the affirmative, inasmuch as property se- 
 cured respect in the country. 
 
 They also stopped at the gauger's, the 
 good-humored brother of the whole country 
 around, and were led by him through the 
 wine-vaults, and -Supplied with many a good 
 drop to drink. The gauger always liked to 
 tell stories that were not always fit for a boy 
 to hear, but the Doctor soon led him to a 
 different subject. 
 
 The gauger always carried with him 
 some flour bread, which he called his "lit- 
 tle sponge." " With straw," he said, 
 " they tie up the wines, and with this little 
 piece of bread, that has been grown from 
 the straw, I fasten in the wine." They had 
 calculated that the gauger had drunk, dur- 
 ing his life-time, seventy butts of wine; but 
 he' asserted that they had been very tender 
 to him, for he had drunk a great deal more 
 than that. 
 
 It was a merry, exhilarating life into 
 which Eric and Roland were inducted, and 
 when they returned to their strict method of 
 study, there was a deep realization of the 
 fact that they were living in the midst of a 
 merry region, where existence can be easily 
 wasted in play. 
 
 It was midsummer, and there came cold, 
 windy, disagreeable days, when it seemed 
 that summer had departed, and yet it could 
 not be, it must become hot again. The 
 nightingale was voiceless ; it had not ceased 
 to sing all at once, but seemed to utter oc- 
 casionally single notes from memory, while 
 there were heard more frequently the thin 
 voices of the linnets, or the full, short call 
 of the blackbirds. The summer shoots on 
 the leafy trees showed that the summer had 
 reached its height, and was declining; 
 the forest-trees had attained their season's 
 growth, and the song of birds had ceased, 
 except that the unwearied black-cap still 
 twittered, and the magpies chattered among 
 the branches. 
 
 Eric and Roland often sailed upon the 
 Rhine, and Eric sang ; he was rejoiced to 
 hear Roland say : — 
 
 "Yes, it is so. A person can sing at all 
 seasons of the year, if he has a mind to." 
 
 Eric nodded, feeling that the conscious- 
 ness of art and of a free humanity had been 
 awakened in Roland ; and he now said that 
 they would absent themselves for a few 
 days from the house, and proposed to Ro- 
 land two plans : either they would go to 
 Herr Weidmann's, of whom there had been 
 so much said, or to the great musical festi- 
 val that was to take place at the Fortress. 
 Boats ornamented with parti-colored stream- 
 ers, having singers on board, went up the 
 river and were greeted at all the landings 
 with the firing of cannon. Roland requested 
 to go to the festival, and he wanted to walk a 
 part of the way, desiring to see again, and 
 this time in company with Eric, the road 
 over which he had wandered by night. 
 
 They set out in good spirits, and Roland 
 was very talkative, relating to Eric all his 
 adventures. They came to the wood, and 
 Roland gave an account of his falling asleep, 
 and of his wonderful dream. He blushed 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 187 
 
 while telling it, and Eric did not ask what 
 his dream Was. Roland went silently into 
 the wood. 
 
 44 Here it is ; here it is ! " he suddenly ex- 
 claimed. " Here is my porte-monnaie ! God 
 be praised and thanked, I have not been 
 robbed. Come, let us go to the village, 
 where the hostler lives whom I suspected, 
 and I will give him all the money. 1 ' 
 
 They proceeded to the village, but the 
 hostler was not there, having been drafted 
 into the military service. 
 
 Roland was very sorry at that, and wrote 
 down the man's name in his memorandum- 
 book. 
 
 The two went on through the country 
 clothed in the green of summer, and when 
 they reached the railroad, took the cars for 
 the Fortress. All was here decked with 
 flags, and the whole town appeared in holi- 
 day attire. Men and women streamed in 
 from all quarters, some on boats and some 
 in the cars, singing in clear tones, and were 
 received with a hearty welcome. Eric was 
 happy to be able to say to his pupil : — 
 
 ' ' Remember that this belongs to us . Nei- 
 ther the Greeks nor the Romans had such 
 celebrations, nor any other nation but us 
 Germans." 
 
 They spent the night at the Fortress, and 
 the next morning all assembled, the hun- 
 dreds of male and female singers, and a 
 great crowd of listeners, in the festival hall 
 now properly ornamented, but at other 
 times used as a fruit-market. A gloomy 
 rumor was spread through the assembly ; 
 the singers shook their heads, and clapped 
 together their hands, while among the audi- 
 ence there was a commotion and a rustling. 
 
 A man of fine voice, an experienced 
 singer, had been suddenly taken ill. 
 
 " Look yonder," said Roland ; " there sit 
 nuns, and there are pupils, in the school- 
 dress that they wear at Manna's convent. 
 Ah, if Manna should be here too ! " 
 
 Eric said to Roland : — 
 
 " btay here ; I will see if I can be of any 
 assistance. I depend upon your not quit- 
 ting this seat." 
 
 He went up to the singers on the plat- 
 form, and spoke earnestly to the leader, by 
 whose side he stood. Men came up to them 
 while they were talking together, and went 
 away again. Suddenly all eyes were turned 
 towards Eric, and a whispering and a buzz- 
 ing went through the assembly. Master 
 Ferdinand, the conductor, tapped with his 
 baton, and his look, which directed and in- 
 spired all, was smiling. There was silence, 
 and in a tone that won all hearts he said : — 
 
 " Our baritone has unfortunately been 
 taken ill, and this gentleman by my side, 
 
 who does not wish his name to be men- 
 tioned, has kindly offered to undertake the 
 solos for our absent friend. You, as well 
 as we, will be grateful to him, and willingly 
 extend to him the requested indulgence, as 
 he has made no rehearsals with us." 
 
 A universal applause was the reply. 
 
 The choruses began, and their tones, like 
 the voice of many waters, moved Roland's 
 soul. Now Eric rose. All hearts were 
 beating. But at the first tone he uttered, 
 each one of the singers, and each one of the 
 listeners, looked to his neighbor and nodded. 
 It was a voice, so full, so deep, so penetra- 
 ting the heart, that all held their breath as 
 they listened. And when he had ended, a 
 storm of applause broke forth which seemed 
 almost to shake the hall. 
 
 Eric sat down, and the choruses and then 
 other solo performers sang ; again he rose, 
 and yet again, and his voice seemed to grow 
 still more powerful, and to penetrate more 
 deeply into the hearts of all. 
 
 But how was it with Roland, one of the 
 thousands who listened, and who were 
 thrilled by the sound of this voice, in the 
 depths of their souls ? 
 
 The choruses rolled in like billows of the 
 resounding sea, but when Eric sang, it was 
 as if he stood upon the deck of a noble ship, 
 and ruled over all ; and this voice was so 
 near to Roland in its friendliness, and yet 
 so nobly exalted ! The youth was pos- 
 sessed by that feeling of blissful, dreamy 
 gladness which music awakes in us, trans- 
 planting it into the depths of our own life, 
 and causing us to forget our own dreams, 
 and merging our own individual self in the 
 sad and blissful element of being. 
 
 Roland wept ; Eric's voice seemed to waft 
 him upwards into an invisible world, and 
 then the choruses began again, and he 
 seemed to be transported into a heavenly 
 state of existence. 
 
 Roland wanted to tell his neighbor who 
 the man was, for he heard on all sides ques- 
 tions and conjectures ; but he said to him- 
 self: — 
 
 " No one else knows who he is, except 
 me." 
 
 His eye now swept again over the collec- 
 tion of girls dressed in blue, and one of 
 them nodded to him. Yes, it is she ! it is 
 Manna ! He requested those sitting near 
 him to let him pass through them ; he wanted 
 to go to his sister and to tell her who it was 
 that had just brought such blessedness into 
 the hearts of all. But he was repelled with 
 vehemence, and his neighbors scolded about 
 the saucy youth, who was so restless and 
 out of humor, and wanted to create a dis- 
 turbance. 
 
188 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON TÖE RHINE. 
 
 Roland remained quiet, and by that means 
 let slip the suitable opportunity of the inter- 
 mission, for pressing through the crowd to 
 Manna. 
 
 The Oratorio was ended, but the applause 
 of the assembly, did not seem likely to 
 end. There was a universal call for the 
 stranger's name. 
 
 "Name! Name!" resounded from a 
 thousand lips, with noisy demonstrations 
 and shouts. 
 
 Then Master Ferdinand tapped with his 
 baton again upon his desk, nodding in a 
 friendly manner to Eric, who held back, 
 and all cried : — 
 
 " Silence ! " 
 
 Eric rose, saying in a composed voice, — 
 " My sincere thanks. That I have been 
 able to take part here, has been to me a 
 divine service, a service to divine art ; and 
 because 1 do not desire by any unfamiliar 
 name to lessen the feeling of devotion 
 awakened within you, and for this reason 
 only, have I been reluctant to give you my 
 name." 
 
 "Name! name! 11 was again called out 
 by the assembly. 
 
 " My name is Doctor Dournay. 11 
 
 " Huzza ! Huzza ! 11 burst out the whole 
 assembly, and the orchestra played a three- 
 fold tiourish, all shouting : — 
 
 " Huzza, Doctor Dournay. 11 
 
 Eric was almost crushed, and his shoul- 
 ders ached with the congratulatory strokes 
 upon them. 
 
 He saw himself surrounded by those who 
 were already acquainted with him, and 
 those who desired to make his acquaintance. 
 The assembly dispersed. 
 
 Eric looked around for Roland, but he 
 was nowhere to be seen. He walked 
 about the square in front of the music-hall, 
 and then returned to it ; here he found 
 everything in confusion, for they were rush- 
 ing in every direction, setting the tables for 
 the festival-dinner. He waited a long time, 
 for he felt convinced that Roland had got 
 lost in the crowd, and would come back 
 here. 
 
 At last Roland came, with glowing cheeks. 
 
 " It was she! 11 he exclaimed. "I went 
 with her and her schoolmates to the boat, 
 and they have now set off. 
 
 " O Eric, how splendid it is, how splendid, 
 that you sang, for the first time, to her ! 
 And she said you could not be so godless, 
 for you sang so devoutly. She said that I 
 was not to tell you this, but she is a rogue, 
 she meant that I should tell you. O Eric ! 
 and the Justice^ Lina, and the Architect, 
 too, are among the singers ; they are walk- 
 ing arm in arm, and they recognized you, 
 
 but they did not betray you. O Eric, how 
 you did sing ! it seemed to me that you 
 could fly too ; I was every moment afraid 
 that you would spread your wings and fly 
 away. 11 
 
 The youth was in a state of feverish ex- 
 citement. 
 
 An usher came to invite Eric and his 
 brother — such he supposed Roland to be — 
 to be present at the dinner and to sit near 
 the director. 
 
 Others came who knew him, and strang- 
 ers who wished to be introduced. 
 
 A photographer, who was one of the solo 
 singers, besought Eric to allow him to take 
 his photograph, while he was waiting for 
 dinner, as hundreds and hundreds of the 
 singers wanted to have a picture of him. 
 
 Eric declined, with thanks, these mani- 
 festations of friendliness, and took, with 
 Roland the first boat to return to the villa. 
 
 Roland went into the cabin, and he was 
 soon sound asleep ; Eric sat alone upon the 
 deck, and he was troubled with the thought 
 of having been brought so prominently be- 
 fore the public. But he considered, on the 
 other hand, that there are times when our 
 powers do not belong to ourselves alone, 
 and when we cannot ourselves determine 
 what Aye will do. I did what I was obliged 
 to do, he thought. 
 
 When they came to the stopping-place, 
 Roland had to be waked up. He was 
 almost dragged into the row-boat, and he 
 was so confused and bewildered, that he 
 did not seem to know what was going on 
 around him. 
 
 After they had disembarked, he said : — 
 
 "Eric, your name is now repeated by 
 thousands and thousands of people, and 
 you are now very famous. 11 
 
 Roland, who had never sung before, now 
 sang, the whole way home, a strain of the 
 chorus. 
 
 They found at the villa letters from Eri^s 
 mother and from Herr Sonnenkamp. His 
 mother wrote, that he must not mind it if 
 he were reproached with having sold so 
 cheaply and so speedily his ideal views, for 
 people were angry, and were partially right 
 in being so, at his abrupt departure without 
 saying good-bye. 
 
 Eric smiled, for he knew right well how 
 they would have their fill of jesting about 
 him around the so-called black table at the 
 Club-house, where, year after year, the 
 shining oil-cloth was spread over the untidy 
 table-cloth. It appeared incomprehensible 
 to him how he could ever have fancied 
 spending there a day of his life, or a bright 
 evening. 
 
 Sonnenkaaip's letter made a wholly dif- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 189 
 
 ferent impression; he authorized Eric, in 
 case he thought it worth while, to take the 
 journey to Biarritz with Roland. 
 
 " My father will like it, too, that you have 
 received so much honor; the nun, indeed, 
 who accompanied Manna, said that he 
 would not take it well, that you had made 
 yourself so notorious." 
 
 Eric looked disturbed. The feeling of 
 servitude and dependence came over him. 
 He had pledged his whole personal being to 
 Sonnenkamp's service, and in all his actions 
 he must first ask himself the question, how 
 they may perhaps be taken by his master. 
 
 The whole day was now strewed over 
 with ashes, and in place of the lofty feelings 
 that had animated him, he now experienced 
 a degree of depression of spirit. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 one's FELLOW-MAN. 
 
 Again the days flowed quietly on in work 
 and recreation. One day Claus came and 
 asked Roland to keep his promise of show- 
 ing him the whole villa from top to bottom. 
 
 "Whvdo you want to see it?" asked 
 Eric. 
 
 "I should like for once to see all the 
 things which rich people have, to know 
 what they do with all their money." 
 
 A knavish glance shot from the hunts- 
 man's eye, as he spoke. Eric gave the re- 
 quested permission; he woul^l have pre- 
 ferred to send a servant, but he went him- 
 self with the man, of whom he felt a sort of 
 dread, not liking to leave him alone with 
 Roland. He could scarcely give a reason 
 for his uneasiness, except that the manner 
 in which the huntsman dwelt upon the rich 
 and poor might confuse Roland's mind. 
 
 They went through all the stories of the 
 house, and Claus, who hardly dared to put 
 his foot down, kept saying, — 
 
 "Yes, yes, all this can be had for money ! 
 what can't be got for money ? " 
 
 In the great music-hall, he stood on the 
 platform, and called to Eric and Roland : 
 
 " Herr Captain, may I ask a question ? " 
 
 "If I can answer it, why shouldn't 
 you ? " 
 
 »" Tell me fairly and honestly, what would 
 you do, if you — you are a liberal-minded 
 man and a friend of humanity — what 
 would you do, if you were the owner of 
 this house and so many millions ?" 
 
 The huntsman's loud voice resounded 
 through the great hall with a discordant 
 echo, which seemed as if it would never 
 cease. 
 
 "What would you do?" he repeated. 
 "Do you know no answer? " 
 
 " It is not necessary for me to give you 
 one." 
 
 " All right ; I knew you couldn't." 
 
 He came down from the platform, saying, 
 "I am field-guard, and as I wander about 
 at night, it seems to me as if I were pos- 
 sessed of an evil spirit, which I can't get 
 rid of. I can't help thinking all the time, 
 what would you do if you had many mil- 
 lions ? It drives me almost crazy ; I can't 
 get away from it, and it appears that you 
 can't answer the question, either." 
 
 " What would you do ? " asked Eric. 
 
 " Have you no idea ? " 
 
 " If I had much money," answered Claus, 
 laughing maliciously, "first of all I'd cud- 
 gel the Landrath to a jelly, even if it cost 
 a thousand gulden ; it's worth the money." 
 
 "But then?" 
 
 "Yes, then — that I don't know." 
 
 Eric looked at Roland, who looked back 
 at him with dull, troubled eyes, and com- 
 pressed lips . The unconsciousness of wealth 
 to which Knopf had alluded seemed des- 
 troyed, suddenly and unseasonably up- 
 rooted. Roland could never be led back 
 to it, and yet was not mature enough to see 
 his way forward. 
 
 Eric said to Roland in English, that he 
 would clear up the matter for him, but that 
 it was impossible to find an answer fit for 
 an ignorant man. 
 
 " Would an ignorant man have asked the 
 question ? " answered Roland in the same 
 language. 
 
 Eric remained silent, for he could not 
 disturb and spoil the clear preception of 
 his pupil, even to relieve and set him at 
 rest. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed the huntsman scorn- 
 fully, "now I'm rid of it, now you've got 
 it. Wherever you go or rest you will 
 hear what I've been asking myself in all the 
 passages and all the rounds. Very well ! 
 if you ever find the answer, let me have 
 the benefit of it." 
 
 He put on his hat and went away. It 
 was impossible to fix Roland's attention 
 upon anything throughout that day ; he sat 
 alone in his room ; late at night, after Eric 
 had been- asleep, he heard him go into the 
 library to get something. 
 
 Eric let him take his own course, then 
 going into the library, he saw that it was 
 the Bible which he had taken ; he was prob- 
 ably reading the passage concerning the 
 rich young man ; the seed, which had un- 
 til now lain dormant, was beginning to 
 sprout. Eric had pursued his work of quiet 
 preparation until now, when an outside in- 
 fluence had come in, and with rude grasp 
 had awakened what should have slept on. 
 
190 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 What is all our teaching and preparation 
 for? It is the same in external nature ; the 
 buds swell quietly till a wild tempest bursts 
 them suddenly open. Now the wild tem- 
 pest had swept over Roland, and Eric could 
 not slielter him. 
 
 Very early the next morning Roland 
 came to Eric's room, saying, — 
 
 " I have a favor to ask." 
 
 " Tell me what it is. I will grant it if I 
 can." 
 
 " You can. Let us forget all our books 
 to-dav, and come with me to the castle." 
 "Now?" 
 
 "Yes; I have a plan. I want to see 
 myself how it is. Let me, just this one day." 
 
 " Let you do what ? " 
 
 " I want to work like the masons' ap- 
 prentices up there. I don't want to eat and 
 drink anything except what they do, and I 
 want to carry loads up and down like 
 them." 
 
 Enc went to the castle with Roland, but 
 on the way, he said, — 
 
 " Roland, your purpose is good, and your 
 wish pleases me, but now consider. You 
 are not undertaking the same work as the 
 men yonder, but work much harder, for 
 yo« are not accustomed to it ; this one day 
 would bring ten times as much fatigue to 
 you as to them, for you come to it from dif- 
 ferent circumstances. What is habit to 
 them is new to you, and doubly difficult ; 
 and, moreover, you are not like them, for 
 you have been tenderly and carefully nur- 
 tured ; your bed is wholly unlike theirs ; 
 you have tender hands ; it is quite a differ- 
 ent sort of strength which you possess. So 
 you would not learn what poor people feel, 
 who have nothing but their native energy 
 to help them support life." 
 
 Roland stood still, and there was an echo 
 of what he had read in the night in the 
 question, as he asked with a troubled voice, 
 "What shall I do then, to make my own 
 the life of my fellow-men ? " 
 
 Eric was struck by bis tone, and by the 
 form of his question ; he could not tell Ro- 
 land how happy he felt, but he was sure at 
 this moment that a soul, which bore and 
 cherished such desires within it, could never 
 go far astray, nor lose the sense of the 
 union and mutual dependence of mankind. 
 He restrained himself from expressing his 
 feeling, however, and said, — 
 
 "Dear Roland" — he had never before 
 said dear Roland — " the world is a great 
 labor-association ; the same task is not laid 
 upon all of us, but it is enjoined on every 
 one to feel himself the brother of his fellow- 
 men, and to know that he is the guardian 
 of himself and of his brothers. What we 
 
 can do is, to prepare ourselves and hold our- 
 selves ready to stand by our brother's side, 
 and reach out a hand to him as often as the 
 call may come. The work which will one 
 day be yours is different from that of the 
 laborers yonder, who carry stone and mor- 
 tar; your work is greater, and more pro- 
 ductive of happiness. Come, the time has 
 arrived for you to see into many things." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 LIFE, AND THE EXTERNALS OF LIFE. 
 
 In the Bible it is related, how the boy 
 Isaac went with the Patriarch Abraham up 
 the mountain-side where the sacrifice was 
 to be offered. He walked on, silent and 
 thoughtful, till at last he asked, — 
 
 " Where is the offering? " 
 
 He did not know that he himself was to 
 be the offering. 
 
 So Roland followed Eric, silent and 
 thoughtful ; he had offered to sacrifice him- 
 self, but the sacrifice was refused. What 
 next? 
 
 Above, on a spur of the mountain, over- 
 looking the surrounding country, they sat 
 down ; the wild thyme spread its fragrance 
 around them. Eric took the hand of his 
 pupil and began, — 
 
 "Well, it must be, — it ought to have 
 come later, — I had hoped that you would 
 not have come to this question for a long 
 time, and then in some other way. Do you 
 know what wealth is ? " 
 
 "Yes; when a man has more than he 
 needs." 
 
 " How does a man get this superfluity?" 
 
 " By inheritance and by earning." 
 
 " Can a brute animal be rich ? " 
 
 " I should think not." 
 
 " Certainly not ; every animal is, and has, 
 only what he has been and has had from his 
 birth. Now, to go farther, are the men 
 of these times better than those of old 
 times ? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 " Will men ever be better than now ? " 
 " I hope so." 
 
 ' ' And how will they become better ? " 
 " By civilization." 
 
 " Is civilization possible, when a man has 
 to work hard from morning till night for 
 the satisfaction of his physical needs ? " 
 
 "Hardly." 
 
 " How then can a man do anything for 
 the improvement of himself or his fellow- 
 men ? " 
 
 " He needs leisure for this." 
 
 "And does not that leisure come only 
 when he has gained through his labor a 
 surplus of wealth ? " 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 191 
 
 "It seems so." 
 
 " Remember this, then : wealth is an accu- 
 mulation of power which is not obtained by 
 one's own labor. 11 
 
 " Stop, wait a minute," said Roland. He 
 thought for a moment and then said, — "I 
 have it, I understand it now; pray go 
 on. 11 
 
 " What, now, should a man do, who comes 
 into possession of so much power that he 
 has not worked for ? 11 ' 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 "Then I will tell you. By means of 
 what a man has beyond the absolute needs 
 of life, he attains those things which beautify 
 and elevate life, art and science. Wealth, 
 alone, makes possible the progress of the 
 human race ; that a man can become rich 
 involves his higher destiny ; he lives by 
 others, and for others ; without accumulated 
 surplus, without capital, there can be no 
 higher knowledge of life, no advancement 
 of it, no science and no art. Wealth is the 
 possibility and the obligation to gain and 
 increase, for one's self and for others, the 
 higher benefits of existence ; the rich man 
 is not rich for himself ; whatever advan- 
 tages he possesses in the way of knowledge, 
 of improved machinery, of invention, he has 
 and uses in order to obtain more wealth 
 than his necessities demand ; these advan- 
 tages he possesses only by means of others 
 who have worked before him. In the last 
 analysis, then, the rich man is so through 
 his own means, or for his own advantage ; 
 he is only an administrator of the accumu- 
 lated results of labor, and he must so ad- 
 minister it as to serve the highest good of 
 mankind. Look around! there lie the 
 fields, the vineyards, — Avhose are they? 
 There stand stones, boundary-stones, placed 
 here and there over the land, as points of 
 legal division between mine and thine ; no 
 one can step over the boundary of anofcher, 
 or encroach on another's domain ; they are 
 the scattered stones, which, in the eye of 
 the imagination, help to form the great tem- 
 ple of law which protects humanity. Not 
 so evident, but not less firmly fixed, are the 
 boundary-stones throughout life ; you may 
 not encroach on what belongs to another, 
 on the results of his labor and of his natu- 
 ral powers. See ! there the boatman di- 
 rects the helm ; there the vine-dresser digs 
 the ground that the rain may reach the roots 
 oi* his vines ; the bird flies over the river ; 
 men row and dig, animals fly and crawl, only 
 to gain a living. Then comes temptation 
 to man and says, — 1 Let others work for 
 you ; live upon the sweat of their brow ; 
 their bones are yours, consider them not; 
 take gold for their labor, gold weeps not, 
 
 gold hungers not, gold complains not, — it 
 only glitters ; when you have it, you can 
 sing, dance, drive over men's heads, be car- 
 ried on their extended arms ; don't hang 
 back ! the world is a field of plunder where 
 each one takes what he can seize. 1 So 
 speaks the tempter, but the spirit of the 
 true life says, — 4 You are only what you 
 are in yourself ; whatever worldly posses- 
 sions you have are indeed yours, but are 
 not you ; to-morrow they may no longer 
 be yours ; but to-day they are, and you 
 may multiply them a thousandfold, so that 
 they may be a blessing to you, and yours, 
 and those around you. 1 
 
 " If you have not genius — that is not to be 
 acquired — then get character and education, 
 which can be acquired, and by means of 
 them gain all which is worth the gaining. 
 Glory and greatness are good, but every 
 one cannot attain them ; every one can be 
 contented in himself and helpful to others. 
 Wealth is an instrument useful for many 
 purposes, but only when one knows how to 
 use it. You cannot destroy the evils that 
 are in the world — hunger, sickness, and 
 crime ; but you must not fling away the 
 power that lies, in your hand; the great 
 duty is yours to beautify and elevate the 
 world. Rejoice in your possessions, for 
 they enable you to create beauty and to 
 give joy. First of all, create in yourself 
 beauty and joy, the power of self-denial, 
 pleasure in accomplishment ; and be ready 
 to stand firm in yourself, if outward sup- 
 ports should be taken away. He who places 
 the centre of gravity of his being outside of 
 himself, on something upon which he leans, 
 falls when that support is removed. Be 
 firm in yourself, keep your centre of grav- 
 ity in yourself, learn to know and to rightly 
 value yourself and the world around you. 
 The present is a time of preparation ; you 
 have as yet no duties towards others. 
 Your only duty is to yourself. Bind to- 
 gether the powers within you, and do not 
 dissipate your being ; and if you are your 
 own master, you are always rich ; but if you 
 have not control of yourself, you are always 
 poor, even were millions in your posses- 
 sion. If you possess yourself, you are lord 
 of your riehes. 11 
 
 They were both silent for a long time. 
 It is impossible to say in what direction 
 any given thought may lead, or what pre- 
 vious thoughts are associated in its develop- 
 ment. 
 
 " I should like to know," began Roland, 
 "how it seemed when America was first 
 discovered." 
 
 Eric explained to the boy what a revolu- 
 tion in ideas the great intellectual discov- 
 
192 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 eries of the sixteenth century had made. 
 There stood a man in a little German town, 
 who said, and proved, that the earth on 
 which we live is no fixed point ; it turns con- 
 tinually on its axis and in its orbit around 
 the sun. The whole mode of thinking of 
 mankind for centuries was entirely changed. 
 Man lives, then, on this ball that we call 
 earth ; he harvests and builds, he travels by 
 land and sea, upon a ball which is constantly 
 turning. When the heart of mankind first 
 learned that, a shudder must have passed 
 through it ; the heavens were removed, there 
 was no more sky, the whole old idea of a king 
 of the world, sitting enthroned thereon, was 
 overthrown ; what was Called the sky, was 
 only the firmly-bound, countless order of 
 constellations, which move in their orbits, 
 attracting and repelling each other. 
 
 Then came another man, who said, "There 
 is no man on earth, who, sitting on his throne, 
 holds in himself the eternal spirit which gives 
 him the right to teach and dictate what men 
 shall believe and hope." Dissension ap- 
 peared in the Church, and tore the civilized 
 world asunder. 
 
 " And still another man, with his compan- 
 ions, entered a ship, sailed towards the north, 
 and discovered a new world. In the house 
 which we inhabit, an immeasurably large 
 room was suddenly opened, wherein dwelt 
 men .who knew nothing of our life, while we, 
 on the other hand, were ignorant of the end- 
 less variety of plants and animals, of bound- 
 less forests and rushing torrents, that existed 
 there. The discoveries of Copernicus, of 
 Luther, and of Columbus, must have pro- 
 duced a revolution in the minds of men at that 
 period, to which nothing in our age can be 
 compared. If we should be told now that 
 all private property was to be given up, so 
 that no one should longer possess anything 
 for himself alone, the revolution in our 
 minds would* not be greater than it was in 
 men's minds at that time." 
 
 Roland sat gazing in wonder at the man, 
 who placed him upon such a height that he 
 could see all life and being forming itself 
 anew, and unfolding before his eyes. Eric 
 paused, in order that the vivid impression, 
 which it was evident he had made upon his 
 pupil, should not be disturbed and effaced 
 by further speech. The question arose in 
 his mind, whether he had not given to the 
 boy ideas and suggestions which he Avas not 
 able to grasp ; but he comforted himself with 
 the example of the Church. She gives the 
 young soul what it does not yet desire, what 
 it is not yet able to understand ; but she 
 gives it in the hope that it will bear fruit in 
 riper years. May we not — must we not do 
 the same ? 
 
 The quiet thought of the two, reaching 
 out towards the infinite, was disturbed by 
 the architect, who came to tell them that a 
 Roman tomb had been discovered, and in 
 it, an urn, a chair, and a skeleton. Eric 
 went with Roland, and this disinterment of 
 a man so long dead gave the boy a shock. 
 What is the world ? What is life ? A fu- 
 ture age finds the skeleton of a man which 
 it passes by with indifference, and only 
 asks, — "Are there, withal, the remains of 
 the industry of former times ? 11 
 
 What is life ? 
 
 As if waking from sleep, Roland heard 
 Eric express his joy at the discovery, which 
 would give so much pleasure to Count Clod- 
 wig. And now all the boy's thoughts were 
 turned into a new channel, and his perplex- 
 ing doubts forgotten. Eric rejoiced in the 
 versatile mind of youth, which at one mo- 
 ment is entirely absorbed in some overpow- 
 ering thought, and the next is engrossed 
 by another which entirely displaces the first. 
 This is the blessing and joy of youth. Ro- 
 land was full of plans for the foundation of 
 a museum, and Eric encouraged him in them, 
 and took pains to show that here was an 
 example of what possessions really mean ; 
 these historical treasures did not belong to 
 him who called them his, but to the world, 
 which from them could learn something of 
 former ages ; no one could have them for 
 himself alone. This is the true idea of pos- 
 session, freed from all material weight. Thus 
 ought we to look upon all the possessions 
 of the world. 
 
 This incident seemed to lead the boy's 
 mind to composure. But as they were going 
 home, he asked, — "Now tell me, Eric, what 
 would you do if all this wealth were yours ? 
 Can you tell, Eric, now?" " Not exactly. 
 I think I should waste much of it in experi- 
 ments, in trying to alleviate the sufferings 
 of humanity. I have often speculated about 
 it, and the first greeting that came to me 
 was, — ' What is a million ? What are mil- 
 lions ? What do they mean ? ' " As Eric 
 was silent, Roland asked, " Well, have you 
 found what they mean ? " "I have first made 
 this clear to myself. In order to know how 
 great value any sum possesses in itself, I 
 have first asked, ' How much bread could 
 be bought for a million ? ' And by means of 
 this somewhat childish question, I came, as 
 I believe, upon the right road." 
 
 "Which is?" 
 
 " I tried to find how many families a mil- 
 lion would support. That, I think, is the 
 road, but of course I have not yet reached 
 the end. I repeat, however, that first of all 
 we must make sure that we are strong 
 enough to do the right, at all times, under 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 193 
 
 all circumstances. What time or circum- 
 stances may demand of us, no one can deter- 
 mine beforehand." 
 
 "Stay by me always, and help me," 
 begged Roland. Eric took the boy's hand 
 few! pressed it, and they went on quietly 
 towards the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A GOOD NEIGHBOR. 
 
 There is many a chance which seems like 
 a summons. Eric and Roland had spoken 
 of Clodwig on the mountain, and when they 
 reached home, they found a message from 
 him, saying that he and the Countess had re- 
 turned from the baths, and would visit them 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Clodwig was brown from his summer-jour- 
 ney, and Bella looked younger than before, 
 and seemed, as she swept with her long train 
 through the house and park, somewhat like 
 a peacock. As soon as they arrived, Roland 
 gave an account of the curiosities found on 
 the mountain, and his face fairly shone with 
 delight when Clodwig asked him to consider 
 them the starting-point of a museum for 
 himself; for in making a collection of this 
 kind, he would experience a pleasure to 
 which scarcely anything else could be com- 
 pared. Roland nodded to Eric, and Clodwig 
 told them he had made many valuable ac- 
 quisitions in his journey, which would soon 
 be sent to him. He had met daily at the 
 !Baths a celebrated antiquarian, who had once 
 been a teacher of Eric. 
 
 Eric apologized to Clodwig for having 
 slighted his friendly advance, in not visiting 
 him before he set out on his journey, and 
 now another pleasant trait was seen in Clod- 
 wig, — that he had not one trace of sensitive- 
 ness. Kindness of heart and self-respect 
 combined to cause this trait ; he excused 
 every neglect of himself, and, as a man of 
 unquestioned position never thought of in- 
 jury or slight. 
 
 "You are exempt from all apologies with 
 me, 11 he said, taking Eric's hands and hold- 
 ing them as though he were the young man's 
 father. " You have cured me of selfishness. 
 I had not believed that there was so much of 
 it left in me, my dear young friend. Yes, you 
 shall mould your own life, and I will rejoice 
 that I have you for a neighbor. A good 
 neighborhood, with the ancient Romans, was 
 not merely a political arrangement." 
 
 They touched glasses and drank to the 
 good neighborhood, and as the old Count 
 drank, his eyes beamed upon Eric. 
 
 It was an animated account that Clodwig 
 and his wife alternately, interrupting each 
 other, gave of their having turned aside from 
 
 their direct course, and spent a night in the 
 University-town for the purpose of visiting 
 Eric's mother and remaining an entire day 
 with her. At last Clodwig left the field to 
 his wife, who told with great feeling and 
 earnestness of the life of the noble lady. 
 She described the piano-forte in its old place, 
 and the beautiful, dignified figure sitting at 
 work before her window filled with flowers. 
 On the wall before her hung the portraits 
 of her dead husband and of her son, and 
 in a frame by itself was a lock of her mother's 
 hair, hanging between the crayon portraits 
 of her parents. Still she was not at all 
 melancholy, but cheerful and interested in 
 every subject, taking part in every discus- 
 sion. 
 
 Then Bella described the lovely valley, 
 and their visit to the renowned mountain- 
 chapel ; and Eric could almost hear his moth- 
 er's voice, and see her gentle face, as she sat 
 by the beautiful lady, listening to Clodwig, 
 and nodding assent and pleasure. It was 
 for Eric an hour of deep and quiet happiness, 
 laden with the memories of his home. 
 
 And not less beaming were Roland's eyes, 
 as he asked : — 
 
 "And didn't she speak of me ? " 
 
 "Almost more than of her own son," 
 Bella answered. And then she turned 
 again to Eric, and could not say enough of 
 the impression which had been made upon 
 her by the sight of a woman like his mother, 
 who, living in another world, yet retained 
 such an interest in this ; who, having given 
 up so much, yet possessed everything in 
 herself. 
 
 Clodwig smiled, for Bella was repeating 
 the very words he had used ; but she con- 
 tinued, — " I think I never understood you, 
 Captain, until I had the happiness of meet- 
 ing your noble mother. We agreed to 
 write to each other, from time to time, 
 although she absolved me on the spot from 
 any feeling of obligation to do so." 
 
 More and more happy, and at home, did 
 Eric feel with Clodwig and Bella, and it 
 seemed as though the spirit of his mother 
 was lingering near them with a benediction. 
 
 "But we must not forget your aunt!" 
 Clodwig exclaimed, and then went on to 
 say that he had renewed an old acquaint- 
 ance with her; he remembered well the 
 dazzling beauty of Fraiilein Dournay, and 
 what an excitement was produced when she, 
 a citizen's daughter, was presented at court, 
 and invited everywhere. The story went 
 that she and Prince Hermann, who died in 
 his youth, had loved each other wi* >t the 
 purest love, and, for his sake, she had re- 
 fused all offers of marriage ; but of thU 
 I Clodwig did not speak. 
 
194 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 As they were walking in the garden after 
 dinner, Bella said to Eric: — "You have 
 had a very beautiful, happy youth ; but one 
 thing Avas wanting." 
 
 " What is that?" 
 
 " A sister.'' 1 
 
 ' ' I would be glad to think that she had 
 come to 1110," Eric replied, in a low voice. 
 
 Bella looked down, for a minute, and* 
 then called Roland to her. They went on 
 to the castle, and Clodwig begged the Arch- 
 itect, for the sake of his young friend, Ro- 
 land, to be very- careful whenever traces 
 of further remains were discovered. 
 
 The company sat down on a projection of 
 the castle- wall, where the Major had made 
 a comfortable seat. Clodwig and Roland 
 were together, and Bella and Eric were sit- 
 ting at a little distance from them. She 
 was inclined to be romantic. She had 
 brought from Paris all the new fashions, 
 but now she said to Eric, How foolishly we 
 burden ourselves with superfluities ! Then, 
 without any apparent cause, she remarked, 
 that everybody thought she was fond of dis- 
 play and fashion ; but she would like best 
 to live in a little fisherman's hut, on the 
 Rhine, in one quiet room, with a bright 
 fire. 
 
 "And who would make this fire?" Eric 
 inquired. 
 
 Bella started at this question. "We 
 must not be romantic," said she. Then 
 there was a long pause. 
 
 At last Eric began. " You have learned 
 to know my mother ; if you had known my 
 father, you would have found great pleasure 
 in him too." 
 
 "I did know him, but I thank you; I 
 understand that you would have me share 
 all that is yours." Thare was a heartfelt 
 expression in her voice, and her eyes 
 beamed, and she fixed them upon Eric with 
 such a look, that he turned his own away. 
 Biting her lip, she continued: "You have 
 seen, — yes, you have certainly noticed how 
 I look at you. Now I must fulfil one of 
 , Clodwig's wishes, because I think that per- 
 haps I may succeed. He wants me to take 
 your likeness, and I will try ; but I must 
 have your young friend with you. Roland, 
 come here," she called, as she saw the boy 
 approaching ; and then she explained, with 
 blushes overspreading her face, that she 
 had wished to surprise Clodwig with the 
 portrait on his birthday, but that that was 
 impossible now, and she must do it openly. 
 
 " Please, Roland, sit down on the Cap- 
 tain's knee. So, — yes, just so, — put your 
 right hand on his shoulder, but farther for- 
 ward. Yes ; now put your head a little 
 more to the left. Pray say something, Cap- 
 
 tain. You must be telling Roland some 
 thing. 1 ' 
 
 " I've nothing to say," replied Eric, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " That will do ; I see the motion of your 
 lips ; it will be difficult, but I hope to catch 
 it. When will you sit to me ? 11 
 
 Clodwig was delighted, and said he never 
 liked surprises ; a well-prepared and long- 
 expected pleasure was much more desirable. 
 He urged Eric and Roland to be his guests 
 at Wolfsgarten, until the family should come 
 back. But Eric declined with equal friend- 
 liness and firmness ; he did not like to dis- 
 arrange the daily routine which he had laid 
 out for Roland ; and Clodwig approved of 
 his resolution, and promised to come again 
 soon to the villa with Bella, and have the 
 portrait taken there. Bella wished a pho- 
 tograph of Eric and Roland in the positions 
 she had chosen for them, but Clodwig said 
 that a portrait taken with the help of a pho- 
 tograph was always stiff and unnatural ; 
 he condemned photographs of human fig- 
 ures, of which they could give only the mere 
 form, and often wholly out of drawing. Ro- 
 land had a word to say also, in regard to 
 the picture. Why not have Griffin in it? 
 Clodwig agreed, saying the dog would make 
 a very good foreground. 
 
 Bella was out of humor. She had enjoyed 
 companionship and gaiety so long, that she 
 was reluctant to go back to her lonely life 
 among the antiquities ; perhaps there were 
 further unacknowledged reasons for her re- 
 grets.. The visit to Eric and Roland was a 
 welcome reprieve to her ; but the proud 
 Captain was so reserved, and had always 
 some great principle so ready to apply to 
 even the smallest action, and her husband 
 
 — his worst weakness was beginning to 
 show itself, the doting fondness of old age 
 
 — whenever the Captain spoke; Clodwig 
 was wholly absorbed in the young man. 
 
 Her features seemed suddenly to become 
 thin and faded, and to lose all roundness. 
 She noticed this, and recovered her self- 
 control. She was especially friendly, and 
 when Eric took leave of her and kissed her 
 hand, he thought he felt a returning press- 
 ure on his lips, but perhaps it was a mis- 
 take, or arose from some awkwardness on 
 his part. While he was thinking about it, 
 Roland said, — 
 
 "I don't kno\#whv, but I did not feel 
 comfortable while the Countess was looking 
 at me, did you ? and she looked at you so 
 strangely." 
 
 "It was the critical look of an artist," 
 answered Eric ; but his own words choked 
 him. Who knew whether this reply was 
 the exact truth ? 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 195 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 TO FORM A MAN. 
 
 The Major sent no notice of his ap- 
 proaching visit; he came himself. He 
 looked very fresh with his reddish-brown 
 face, and his snow-white, short-cut hair, and 
 he said that as often as he had bathed in 
 the warm spring, he felt as if he could re- 
 member the very first bath after he was 
 born. He seemed to himself, every time,, 
 literally like a new-born child, with an un- 
 seen nurse, who bent smiling t>ver him and 
 dipped him gently in the spring. He smiled 
 at everything, at the trees, the roofs, the 
 houses, and now at the faces of his friends. 
 
 He was very glad that Eric had taken the 
 boy out of the ranks and was exercising him 
 alone; it was hard, to be sure; but more 
 progress could be made in one day, than in 
 weeks by the other method. 
 
 He begged Eric to excuse himself in a 
 few words to Fraiilein Milch for not visiting 
 her when she was so lonely, and he urged 
 Eric to come soon, for the Grand Master 
 was there. 
 
 The Major, as has been said, lived in a 
 wing of the country-house, beautifully situ- 
 ated on the mountain-side, of which he had 
 the care. With the greatest solicitude the 
 Major preserved his own independence in 
 life, but he felt a deep obligation toward 
 the Grand Master, whose universal friend- 
 liness and agreeable conversation he was 
 never wearp of extolling. He always 
 wanted to share with him every pleasjure 
 and advantage, and now what had he better 
 than Eric, whom he praised so continually 
 that his stock of eulogistic expressions be- 
 came completely exhausted, and* he found 
 more than usual difficulty in saying what he 
 wished. 
 
 On his first leisure evening Eric visited 
 the Major. He easily made peace with the 
 Fräulein ; and the Major laughed till he 
 choked and had to be brought to with a 
 slap on the back, because he had made a 
 joke, a 'most unusual thing with him, about 
 Eric's confinement for six weeks. 
 
 Fraulein Milch told of Eric's glory at the 
 singing festival, and the Major said, — 
 
 " That's good. At our feasts, singers 
 are very important. But can you sing, 
 ' These holy halls 1 ? " 
 
 Eric regretted that the air was too low 
 for his voice. 
 
 "Then sing something else; sing for 
 Fraulein Milch." 
 
 Eric had difficulty in declining this friend- 
 ly request, and Fräulein Milch thanked him, 
 and helped him carry out his wish to defer 
 the performance to some appointed even- 
 
 ing. The so-called Grand Master was as 
 disagreeable in his behavior, as Fräulein 
 Milch was charming. There was some- 
 thing unpleasantly patronizing in his man- 
 ner ; it seemed as if he were so accustomed 
 to flattery, that only a simple unpretending 
 nature, like the Major's, could be at ease 
 with him. The Major took great pains to 
 bring his true friends together, but he did 
 not succeed. The Grand Master behaved 
 arrogantly towards Eric throughout. He 
 addressed him only as "Young man," and 
 gave him instruction and advice, as if Eric 
 were in his employ. It required all Eric's 
 self-possession, to show the man, good- 
 temperedly, the impropriety of his treat- 
 ment for the Grand Master was so incon- 
 siderate as to speak, even in Roland's pres- 
 ence, of the want of experience of the 
 " young man," who had, of course, come to 
 him only to listen to his oracular sayings ; 
 and his whole manner of speaking had 
 something oracular about it, as he gesticu- 
 lated with outstretched hands, as if sowing 
 seed. Eric kept his temper enough to treat 
 this insolent creature as a singular, natural 
 phenomenon. He patiently allowed him- 
 self to be patronized, and when Eric had 
 gone, the Head Master said to the Major, 
 — " That young man has ideas." 
 
 It is true, Eric had not expressed any 
 ideas, but he had listened well, and so was 
 awarded praise for them, which was a great 
 deal from the Grand Master, who considered 
 that nobody but himself had properly any 
 ideas ; and the whole world ought to come 
 to him to be taught. When Eric returned 
 to the Major's, he found a messenger, who 
 had come to say that Clodwig, Bella, and 
 Franken would come there the next day. 
 Roland had gone into the court with Fräu- 
 lein Milch to admire the young ducks. 
 
 The Major now asked on what terms Eric 
 stood with Pranken. Eric could only an- 
 swer that Pranken had been very friendly, 
 and considerate, in his treatment of him. 
 
 The Major, who had risen through every 
 grade of the militia from drummer-boy up, 
 lived in a constant state of resentment 
 against the haughtiness of his noble-born 
 comrades ; he admonished Eric, however, to 
 conduct himself gratefully towards Pranken, 
 who was really a very well-mannered fel- 
 low, in spite of his noble bkth ; an obstacle 
 that it was very hard for the Major to get 
 over. He thought that Pranken deserved 
 Eric's gratitude for having introduced him 
 into his present position, and reminded Eric 
 that he had also been the means of his gain- 
 ing so valuable a friend as Clodwig. 
 
 As Eric and Roland were going towards 
 home, Eric said, — 
 
196 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 11 Now, Roland, we will show that we do 
 not allow ourselves to be disturbed ; come 
 what will, we will have our studies uninter- 
 rupted ; we won't see visitors except in play- 
 hours. You see, Roland, this is one great 
 difficulty in life. From complaisance to- 
 wards the world, and from an unwillingness 
 to appear disobliging and ungracious to our 
 friends, we often allow our own privacy to 
 be invaded. Against this we must stand 
 firmly : each must just be something for 
 himself, and then come out into the world. 
 He who cannot exist for himself may pos- 
 sess the world, but not himself." 
 
 In the consciousness of fulfilling his duty, 
 Eric became again strong and self-contained, 
 and scattered every disturbing influence far 
 away. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 UNDER-C U KKENT S . 
 
 The visit took place. Pranken rode 
 behind the carriage in which Ciodwig and 
 Bella were seated ; on the back seat of the, 
 carriage stood a frame-work covered with 
 paper, and a handsome box ornamented 
 with inlaid work, which held the crayons. 
 
 Eric and Roland received the guests, and 
 Eric begged them to make themselves at 
 home ; he had had everything arranged by 
 the servants ; he would himself be at their 
 service in an hour, when lessons were over. 
 
 The visitors looked at each other in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 Pranken looked strangely changed; a 
 deeper seriousness was in his face ; now he 
 shrugged his shoulders, and burst into a 
 mocking laugh. 
 
 Bella thought Eric's conduct extremely 
 formal and pcfdantic ; Ciodwig declared it 
 showed a beautiful trait of character ; but 
 Pranken saw only idle display in this assump- 
 tion of duty ; the young man — he said this 
 quite in the tone of the Grand Master — the 
 young man wished to make a great impres- 
 sion with his faithfulness to duty. 
 
 Meantime they made themselves comfort- 
 able, and it was not to be denied that Eric 
 had shown great thought for the pleasure of 
 his guests, in his floral decorations, and 
 other arrangements. 
 
 The hour was soon over, and Eric re- 
 turned to his guests in that fresh and cheer- 
 ful mood, which only the conquest over 
 one's self and the consciousness of duty ful- 
 filled can ever give. 
 
 He had selected a good room, looking 
 towards the North, and after a lunch the 
 drawing began. 
 
 Ciodwig remained with his wife ; Roland, 
 who was to be drawn later, went with 
 
 Pranken to the stables. Pranken conducted 
 himself in the house as Sonnenkamp's natu- 
 ral representative, or as a son of the family ; 
 he had the horses brought out, he examined 
 the gardenwork, and praised the servants. 
 
 " I never saw you looking so serious and 
 anxious," said Ciodwig to Eric. And, in- 
 deed, Eric's expression was full of uneasi- 
 ness, for he suspected that Pranken was 
 now talking about him to Roland. 
 . What can all education, all firm guidance 
 effect, when one is not sure for a moment 
 that some foreign influence is not working 
 against it ? We must comfort ourselves by 
 thinking that no one man can form another, 
 but the whole world forms each man. Eric, 
 meanwhile, could not but dread what Pran- 
 ken might be saying to his pupil. 
 
 First, Pranken asked whether Roland had 
 read the daily portion in the book that 
 Manna sent him. 
 
 Roland said, no, directly, and then came a 
 confused jumble of Benjamin Franklin, of 
 Crassus, of Hiawatha, of the observations 
 of storms by the telegraphist, and of Ban- 
 croft's History of the United States. 
 
 Pranken nodded; he asked if Roland 
 wrote often to Manna, and Roland said 
 yes. 
 
 Pranken now told him that he had trained 
 a snow-white Hungarian horse for Manna, 
 and added : — 
 
 " You can tell her so, when you write, 01 
 not, as you please." 
 
 He knew, of course, that Rofcmd was sure 
 not to forget any information which he was 
 allowed to impart, especially if it was about 
 a snow-white horse with red trappings. 
 Pranken promised that Roland should him- 
 self ride the animal some day. 
 
 " Has it a name ? " asked Roland. 
 
 Pranken smiled ; he perceived that his 
 communication had interested Roland ex- 
 tremely, and he answered, — 
 
 " Yes, its name is Armida." 
 
 Just then Roland was called in, as he 
 was needed for the sketch. When the out- 
 line was completed, the drawing was laid 
 aside for awhile. 
 
 In a half-confidential, half-commanding 
 tone, Pranken asked Eric to go out with 
 him alone, and in a friendly, even unusu- 
 ally friendly manner, he entered into a dis- 
 course upon Roland's education. And now, 
 for the first time, Eric heard Pranken speak 
 seriously of his strict religious convictions. 
 
 He was amazed. Was this all put on, in 
 order to win more securely the rich heiress 
 edcuated in the Convent ? 
 
 But it certainly was not necessary for 
 Pranken, when no one could see and re- 
 mark upon it, in travelling, antl at the Baths, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 197 
 
 to unite himself so closely with ecclesiastics. 
 Was it not rather probable that a conversion 
 had really taken place in this worldly man, 
 and that upon just such a nature the sta- 
 bility and unchangeableness of the Church 
 would take the surest hold ? 
 
 " I consider it my duty, and you will 
 give me the credit of considering it a duty," 
 said Pranken 'suddenly, laying his hand on 
 his heart, "to give you some confidential 
 information." 
 
 " If I can do anything, I shall feel myself 
 honored by your confidence ; but if I can 
 be of no use, I would rather avoid an unne- 
 cessary share in a secret." 
 
 Pranken was astonished at this reluctance, 
 and was inclined to be displeased, but he 
 restrained himself, and continued, in a 
 higher tone : — 
 
 "You know that Herr Sonnenkamp — " 
 
 " Excuse me for interrupting you. Does 
 Herr Sonnenkamp know that you are mak- 
 ing this confidential communication to me?" 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " Pranken broke out, — 
 " but no, I am wrong. I respect this regard 
 to your position." 
 
 He was silent for a few minutes ; it 
 occurred to him that, instead of what he had 
 meant to say, he might warn Eric not to 
 have too much to do with Bella. But 
 would not this be an insinuation against his 
 sister? He decided to go back to his first 
 plan, and said shortly, — 
 
 " I think I may tell you that I am almost 
 a son of this house. Fraulein Sonnenkamp 
 is as good as engaged to me. 11 
 
 " If Fräulein Sonnenkamp is like her 
 brother, I can congratulate you heartily. I 
 thank you for your unexpected, and as yet 
 undeserved, confidence ; may I ask why you 
 have honored me with it ? " 
 
 Pranken became more inwardly enraged, 
 but outwardly still more flattering ; he ner- 
 vously worked his right hand, as if he were 
 using a riding- whip, but he smiled very 
 condescendingly and said, — 
 
 " I have not been mistaken in you." After 
 a pause he continued: — "I acknowledge 
 fullv your considerateness." 
 
 He did not answer directly the question 
 as to the cause of his confidence, and there 
 was hardly time, for Roland now called 
 Eric to the sitting. 
 
 " One would think ten years had passed 
 since I left o(f drawing," said Bella, " you 
 look so much older now." 
 
 Eric could not speak out his thoughts. 
 The way in which Pranken had treated him, 
 and the manner in which he had borne him- 
 self, disturbed him very much. He was sit- 
 ting now quite still, but it seemed to him as 
 if he were being rent asunder. He felt 
 
 that there was something fundamentally 
 false in his relations with Pranken. They 
 were both aware of the contrast and dis- 
 cord which existed between them ; they 
 ought either to have been open enemies, or 
 to have passed each other with indifference ; 
 and yet some spell seemed to draw them 
 together, and to persuade them into appar- 
 ent friendliness. 
 
 All misery springs from untruthfulness. 
 The world would be quite a different place, 
 and much misery would be saved, could 
 we be true at all times, and not allow our- 
 selves to be led into lasting relations and 
 obligations, while we silence the inward 
 remonstrance by saying, — It will all turn 
 out well ; the matter need not be taken so 
 seriously. But in thousands of cases the 
 lie is concealed, veiled, beautified, as in that 
 Bible-story, where the serpent overcomes 
 all opposition, all argument, by the words, 
 — " Only eat, and you will not die, but 
 only become wise." 
 
 The great punishment of a relation found- 
 ed on false grounds is, that it constantly 
 demands from us farther untruthfulness ; 
 either openly recognized as such, or con- 
 cealed by our self-deception, and at last 
 the lie takes on the appearance of virtue, 
 changes all the foundation of our character, 
 silences the protests which our better nature 
 makes, and says, You must not desert 
 your friend ; you have been friends so long, 
 you have received so much from him, and 
 have done so much for him ; it would break 
 up your whole life ; you would take a large 
 portion from it, if you gave him up. 'No ! 
 you must now hold firmly together. And 
 so the lie grows and poisons life. All sor- 
 row and all unhappiness, all misunder- 
 standing and deceit, arise from the fault that 
 man will not be faithful to himself. The 
 devil of lies goes about, seeking whom he 
 may devour. 
 
 It is true there is no devil that you can 
 see so as to describe him in the military 
 style, but close by every divine idea which 
 in its ultimate foundation is nothing but 
 Truth, dwells the Lie, and is always capa- 
 ble of assuming the form and language of 
 its neighbor. 
 
 All these thoughts were tossing and raging 
 in Eric's soul as he sat for his portrait. 
 Could any one at that moment have painted 
 the picture of his soul, it would have been 
 an unparalleled distortion. 
 
 At last, Bella declared she could not draw 
 him as he then looked, and the sitting was 
 postponed. 
 
 They all went to dinner, which passed 
 cheerfully, for the Doctor joined them. In 
 the evening, they went out rowing on the 
 
198 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Rhine, and Roland told how beautifully 
 Eric could sing ; but Eric could not be per- 
 suaded to give them a single song. He 
 was bantered on having displayed his talent 
 at the musical festival, by Pranken espe- 
 cially, who spoke in a friendly tone, but 
 with a most cutting manner. 
 
 In the evening, when the fire-flies were 
 darting here and there in the dusky park, 
 Eric walked with Bella, while Clodwig sat 
 in the balconied room, turning over the 
 leaves of an' album filled with new photo- 
 graphic views of Rome, and, at many a 
 page, looking far away into the past. 
 
 Roland walked with Pranken, and they 
 talked of Manna. Pranken knew well how 
 to suggest what he should write of him. In 
 walking, they passed and repassed Eric and 
 Bella, and Pranken looked surprised at see- 
 ing his sister leaning on the young man's 
 arm. Like glancing fire-flies, the brilliant 
 flashes of wit lighted up their conversation, 
 but left longer trains of light behind them. 
 Bella and Eric spoke in a low tone, and often, 
 as the others passed near them, they stopped 
 speaking. Bella talked again about her 
 good husband, — she always called him her 
 " good husband," — and said how thought- 
 fully Eric understood him, not only, if she 
 might say so, with his mind, but with his 
 heart. 
 
 "You have made a new phrase," said 
 Eric, and Bella repeated her newly-coined 
 expression, with as much pleasure as if she 
 had found a new style of head-dress which 
 suited her face alone. 
 
 Eric was pedantic enough to go back to 
 the original subject of discussion, and said 
 warmly, how delightful it was to fiiid 
 Beauty and Peacefulness, not only in one's 
 own ideal, but in real life ; to reach out 
 one's hand to them and look into their calm, 
 clear eyes. 
 
 "You are a good man, and I believe 
 an honest one," said Bella, and pulling off 
 her glove she lightly tapped with it on 
 Eric's hand. 
 
 " It is no merit to be honest," said Eric. 
 " I could almost wish I could be untruthful ; 
 no, — not untruthful, but a little more retic- 
 ent sometimes." 
 
 It was charming and edifying; to hear 
 how Bella now extolled the beauty and hap- 
 piness of a thoroughly honest nature ; and 
 she spoke in a tone of deep emotion, as she 
 added, that she might have won early in 
 life a most brilliant lot, if she could have 
 feigned a very little love. Eric did not 
 know what to answer, and this caused one 
 of those pauses which Pranken, passing 
 with Roland, observed. 
 
 Bella went on to say, that it is always a 
 blessing to do anything to help a human 
 being ; it falls to the lot of one person, to 
 do this for a fellow-creature in the morning 
 of life — here she bent her head towards 
 Eric — while another does it for one in the 
 decline of life, when the sacrifice, quiet and 
 unrecognized, can only be rewarded by the 
 consciousness of the service rendered. 
 
 At a bend of the road, it happened, very 
 naturally, that Eric walked with Roland, 
 and Pranken with his sister. Roland was 
 jealous of Bella, of every person ; jealous 
 at every word, at every look, that Eric di- 
 rected to any one but himself; he wished 
 to have him wholly to himself. And as Ro- 
 land now exhibited his childish humor, Eric 
 shrunk into himself affrighted ; he had not 
 only allowed himself to be diverted from 
 Roland, but perhaps also had been commit- 
 ting a wrong in a different direction. 
 There was yet time for him to retrace his 
 steps. He went to bid Clodwig good-night, 
 and he was almost pleased to find that he 
 had already retired to rest. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 READ BY ANOTHER'S EYES. 
 
 On looking at the picture, the next day, 
 Bella was painfully dissatisfied with her 
 work. What she had done with so much 
 care and diligence seemed to her false in 
 drawing and expression. She grew posi- 
 tively angry over it, and would have made 
 a fresh beginning had not Clodwig, by his 
 gentle persuasions and judicious praise of 
 the many excellencies of her picture, suc- 
 ceeded in soothing her. She could not 
 help saying, however, with some bitterness, 
 that it was her fate to have everything she 
 undertook turn out otherwise than she had 
 desired, and upon Clodwig's assuring her 
 that such was the necessary result of every 
 attempt to embody our conceptions, she 
 exclaimed impatiently, " I am not what I 
 am. 1 ' The real cause of her discontent 
 was hard to determine. It was more than 
 the mere dissatisfaction of the artist and 
 disappointment in her own powers. 
 
 The strict discipline which Eric had wish- 
 ed to maintain was now much broken in 
 upon. Bella always carried through what- 
 ever plan she had laid out for herself, acting 
 upon her favorite theory that it was well to 
 allow men to think they had some authority, 
 but that must be all. 
 
 Roland soon turned the conversation to 
 the subject always uppermost in his mind, 
 the life of Franklin. Bella expressed a 
 wish to learn something about it, and Clod- 
 wig, after a little sketch had been given of 
 what had been already gone over, was 
 quite ready to resume the reading where it 
 had been dropped before. Eric and Ro- 
 land, who sat upon a raised platform, list- 
 ened eagerly. The reading gave rise to 
 many an animated discussion, for Bella en- 
 tered with remarkable ease and readiness 
 into everything that was presented to her. j 
 Eric was disturbed by her speedy detection 
 in Franklin of " a certain dry pedantry, j 
 a stinginess of nature, " which her acute 
 criticisms set forth in strong relief. He 
 could feel the emotion her words caused in 
 Roland, who was sitting on his knee. 
 
 In these days, it is impossible for a young 
 man of Roland's antecedents and present 
 position to preserve a perfect ideal. If 
 rightly guided, and established on a solid 
 footing, it might perhaps be useful for him 
 to see his ideal attacked, and even dis- 
 torted. 
 
 With all the eloquence at his command, 
 Eric stated the difficulty that beset the en- 
 lightened mind of the present day, in hav- 
 ing no authoritative voice in the place of 
 that of the Church, to say at every point of 
 
 life's journey, "Follow thou me." We 
 moderns must recognize what is pure and 
 lofty in noble natures, though cramped by' 
 the many limitations incident to our age 
 and individual constitution. 
 
 Bella's pencil worked rapidly while he 
 was speaking, and she often nodded her 
 head assentingly. When he ended she 
 looked full at him, and said, — 
 
 "You are the best teacher I ever met 
 with ; " then, with beaming eyes and glowing 
 cheeks, she turned again to her work. 
 
 "That depends upon the pupil," an- 
 swered Eric, politely acknowledging the 
 compliment. 
 
 "I want you, now," continued Bella, 
 still blushing deeply, " I want you to lay 
 your hand on Roland's head. Please do ; 
 it will give precisely the effect I desire. 
 Please do as I say." 
 
 He consented, protesting at the same 
 time that the idea did not please him, for 
 Roland should learn to carry his head free. 
 
 Bella shook her head with vexation, and 
 continued her work, no longer, however, 
 on the figure of Eric, but solely on that of 
 Roland. 
 
 " Now I have it ! " she suddenly ex- 
 claimed; " that is it ! You resemble Mu- 
 rillo's St. Anthony." 
 
 " That is just what I noticed," cried Ro- 
 land. "Manna scolded me for it at the 
 musical festival/' 
 
 Clodwig also agreed with his wife. 
 
 "It is a favorite picture of mine," he 
 said. " How plainly I can see it now be- 
 fore me ! The figure of Anthony on his 
 knees, with a knotted staff beside him ; the 
 landscape barely indicated ; a tree in the 
 background, and the thicket near by. An- 
 gels are playing on the ground and floating 
 in the air ; one turns over the leaves of the 
 Saint's book, while another holds up to an 
 angel hovering in the heavens a lily which 
 has grown from the earth ; the flower thus 
 forming, as it were, a link between heaven 
 and earth." 
 
 Eric was somewhat embarrassed by Ro- 
 land's relating how he had fallen asleep in 
 the chapel of the convent, and how suddenly 
 the black nun stood beside him, and he saw 
 the picture above him. 
 
 A request of Eric's that the reading 
 might stop here, and the reasons on which 
 he based his request, assumed various shapes 
 in the minds of his hearers. 
 
 "To-day's experience convinces me," 
 he said, " that we cannot control our 
 thoughts or pursue them to any worthy 
 issue, when obliged to remain in a position 
 foreign to those thoughts, or in one at least 
 that has no connection with them. There 
 
200 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 is a mysterious sympathy between our 
 thoughts and the position and state of our 
 bodies." 
 
 Eric's words worked in four different 
 ways upon the party assembled. In his 
 own case, they served to describe his posi- 
 tion as tutor. Roland thought of the ma- 
 sons at work on the castle, and wondered 
 what they must be thinking of while perched 
 in mid air on their scaffoldings, or while 
 hammering the stone. Clodwig, too, must 
 have found the words bear in some way 
 upon his life, for he shook his head and 
 pressed his lips hard together, as he was 
 wont to do when thinking. But upon Bella 
 they produced the most striking impression ; 
 she suddenly let fall from one hand her 
 pencils, and from the other the bread which 
 she used for the occasional erasing of a 
 line. Eric instantly restored them to her, 
 and she took them from him with a vacant 
 look and no word of thanks. He had 
 brought before her the picture of her mar- 
 ried life. Thus this one key-note had 
 struck four different chords. 
 
 For a long time no~word was spoken. 
 
 The presence of Clodwig and his family at 
 Villa Eden caused great excitement in the 
 neighborhood, and appeared to place the 
 tutor in a very peculiar position. Pranken, 
 however, viewed the matter quite different- 
 ly, and, as acknowledged son of the house, 
 invited to Villa Eden the Justice, with 
 his wife and daughter, who had just re- 
 turned from the Baths. 
 
 His manner towards Lina was particu- 
 larly friendly and intimate ; he took long 
 walks in the garden with her, and made 
 her tell him about her life in a convent, 
 which she did most amusingly, giving com- 
 ical descriptions of the sisters, the Supe- 
 rior, and her different companions. Her 
 only object in staying at the convent had 
 been the learning of foreign languages. 
 Lina's perpetually gay spirits began to 
 have a cheering effect upon the melancholy 
 Pranken. Something of the Pranken of 
 old times was roused within him. Why 
 need the present be empty and barren ? it 
 said. Bella has her flirtation with the Cap- 
 tain, why should he not have his with Lina? 
 "Why not indulge in a little harmless jest- 
 ing, perhaps even admit the excitement 
 of some feeling ? He could control himself 
 at any moment. 
 
 The old Pranken, the Pranken of the 
 days before, seized his rescued moustache 
 with both hands and twirled it in the air. 
 
 It was a good idea, during this pause in 
 his life, to amuse himself with the Justice's 
 Lina. He could imagine himself transported 
 back to the days before that visit to the 
 
 convent, and add this to the many other 
 experiences of his past life which Manna 
 would have to forget. 
 
 Lina meanwhile received his attentions 
 very unconcernedly, showing equal friendli- 
 ness of manner towards both him and Eric, 
 whom she always called her brother in 
 music. 
 
 There was a constant stream of jesting 
 and laughter in the Villa and park. One 
 day Pranken induced his brother-in-law to 
 go boating with Lina and himself, while 
 Bella remained at home to draw. He 
 wanted to take Roland also, wishing, with 
 a certain recklessness, to leave the other 
 two alone together for once. But Roland 
 would not leave Eric ; he even openly 
 avoided Pranken's society. 
 
 Lina sang gaily as they sat together in 
 the boat. Her love-songs were given with a 
 sweetness, an abandonment, that Pranken 
 had never heard from her before. Clodwig 
 described her singing to his wife, on his re- 
 turn, as being as simple and beautiful as a 
 field flower. 
 
 Bella begged the Justice and his wife to 
 let her take Lina back with her to Wolfs- 
 garten. The Justice's objections were over- 
 ruled by his wife, and Lina was full of de- 
 light at setting off with Bella and Clodwig. 
 
 Pranken rode beside the carriage. 
 
 The quiet of this loneliness weighed heav- 
 ily again upon Eric and Roland, after the 
 animated society of the last few days. Eric, 
 beside, was out of tune, weary and dull. 
 He found it a burden to be obliged to de- 
 vote himself from morning to night to this 
 boy, to have to watch his undisciplined, and 
 often capricious, fluctuations of mind. He 
 longed for the society of Clodwig; still 
 more, though he hardly acknowledged it to 
 himself, for that of Bella. There had been 
 a novelty, an animation, an excitement, an 
 atmosphere of graceful elegance, about the 
 rooms, which were now so desolate. Never- 
 theless, he resisted for several days Roland's 
 entreaties that they should make the prom- 
 ised visit to Wolfsgarten. The house had 
 been entrusted to his care, and he refused 
 to leave it, until Pranken, at length, offered 
 to take all the responsibility upon himself. 
 There was a sting in his words, as he said 
 to Eric, — 
 
 "You were present at the musical festival, 
 and left the house then in charge of only 
 the servants. Besides, as I say, I assume 
 the entire responsibility." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 ENTERING INTO THE LIVES OF OTHERS. 
 
 Beautiful it is in the valley, on the river's 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 201 
 
 bank, -where the waters glide by so swiftly, 
 yet so undisturbed ; beautiful to see how 
 they glisten in the daylight, reflecting every 
 passing change in the sky, and bearing to 
 and fro the hurrying boats ; and again in 
 the evening, to hear the quiet murmur of 
 the stream, as it lies undenthe radiance of 
 the moon. But beautiful it is also to look 
 from the mountain-top, over the forests, the 
 terraced vineyards, the villages, the cities, 
 and the far-reaching river. 
 . A fresh impulse and animation were now 
 given to the life at Wolfsgarten. The pic- 
 ture of Eric and Roland was brought to 
 completion, and Eric set in order Clodwig's 
 cabinet, thus introducing his pupil to the 
 curiosities of antiquity. There was singing 
 and laughing, there Avere walks and rides 
 in the neighboring forests, and many a 
 memorable conversation. 
 
 Bella ofren took the parrot with her when 
 she walked with Eric through the park and 
 the forest. The bird took a great antipathy 
 to Eric, and would scold at him from its 
 place on its mistress's shoulder. Some- 
 times she let it loose with the injunction, 
 " Be sure and come home at night, Koko ; " 
 and Koko would perch upon a tree, and fly 
 this way and that, through the forest, always 
 returning at evening. Her freed slave, 
 Bella called him, at such times. 
 
 Now, however, Koko had been absent 
 two days. Clodwig offered every reward 
 to get the bird back again, never remarking 
 how quietly his wife took her favorite's loss. 
 
 As a matter of course, Bella walked with 
 Eric while Roland and Lina roamed about 
 together in the forest, Lina delighted at be- 
 ing allowed to revel in a child's freedom. 
 At other times, when Eric and Bella were 
 strolling through park and forest, Roland 
 would sit in the potter's workshop, where 
 the clay from the neigboring hills was 
 moulded. He had the whole process ex- 
 plained to him, and was amazed to see what 
 care and labor a single vessel required. 
 Two boys, of about his own age, trampled 
 the clay with their naked feet in order to 
 render it pliable, after which workmen 
 formed it into tiles and architectural orna- 
 ments. At a potter's wheel sat a handsome, 
 powerfully-built youth, turning it with his 
 bare feet ; then he lifted the clay with great 
 care into the required shape, formed the 
 rim and the nose, and almost tenderly raised 
 the finished vessel from the wheel, and set 
 it in its place on a shelf with the others. 
 He always took precisely the quantity of 
 clay required for the vessel, and never al- 
 lowed his heavy hands to make on it an 
 impression which he had not designed. 
 
 Roland watched the whole scene thought- 
 
 fully. Could these men be helped by 
 money ? No ; their life might be made 
 richer, but they must still work. 
 
 The young man who shaped the vessels was 
 dumb. He would give Roland a friendly 
 glance when he entered, and then quietly keep 
 on with his work. The master praised him 
 very highly to Roland, who, being desirous 
 of doing something for him, presented him 
 with his handsome pocket-knife. It con- 
 tained many instruments within it, and 
 much delighted the poor mute. 
 
 Roland told Eric what he had seen, and 
 what thoughts had come into his mind. He 
 had noticed that the workmen had their food 
 brought them, from a great distance, by old 
 women and little children, and asked wheth- 
 er no better arrangement could be made 
 for them. 
 
 Eric looked at the boy with unsympa- 
 thizing eyes as he spoke. How he would 
 once have rejoiced in this proof of his pu- 
 pil's interest in the welfare of his fellow-men ; 
 but now he seemed wholly absorbed in other 
 matters. 
 
 A beautifully engraved card brought to 
 Wolfsgarten a piece of news that proved a 
 fertile subject of conversation, — the betroth- 
 al of the Wine-count's daughter with the 
 son of the Court-marshal. It seemed an ex- 
 traordinary step on the part' of the young 
 man, who was suffering with a mortal dis- 
 ease, but still more extraordinary that the 
 lady, a fresh young girl, overflowing with 
 life and health, should have made up her 
 mind to such a union. Lina, who was well 
 versed in the private history of every one' 
 in the neighborhood, accounted for it by 
 saying that the Wine-count's daughter had 
 always expressed a great desire to be a wid- 
 owed baroness. There was a deep under- 
 tone of meaning, a something not wholly 
 expressed, in Bella's way of speaking of this 
 connection, particularly when addressing 
 Eric, which seemed to take for granted that 
 he would understand what she half con- 
 cealed. 
 
 The newspaper brought another piece of 
 intelligence, the return of the Prince's broth- 
 er from America, where he had been a care- 
 ful observer; and his bringing with him for 
 the Prince a freed slave, in the person of a 
 handsome African. 
 
 While they were still discussing the im- 
 pression which a sight of the American 
 Republic must make on a German prince, 
 Roland came in from the forest, exclaiming, 
 — "I have him ! I have him ! " 
 
 He was holding the parrot by his claws. 
 
 " There you are again, my freed slave !" 
 cried Bella, as the bird tore himself from 
 Roland's grasp, and, perching upon his mis- 
 
202 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 tress^ shoulder, began a violent scolding at 
 Eric. 
 
 Clodwig did not allow himself to be 
 easily interrupted in a discussion he had 
 once entered upon, and proceeded to state 
 the results of his observations in the world. 
 Bella took an active part in the conversation. 
 It sometimes seemed to Eric, that there was 
 nothing beyond a certain superficial clever- 
 ness in her ready flow of words ; but he re- 
 jected the criticism as a pedantic one. 
 
 His life among books, he said to himself, 
 had rendered him unsusceptible to this 
 easy, graceful brilliancy, while his profes- 
 sion as teacher led him to be always on the 
 watch for an elaborate network of thoughts 
 and impressions, where there was meant to 
 be nothing but a simple expression of natu- 
 ral feeling. He now gave himself freely 
 up to the pleasure of enjoying the close 
 companionship of so richly endowed a na- 
 ture. These butterfly movements of the 
 miud he began to look upon as legitimately 
 feminine characteristics, which were not to 
 be roughly criticized. Hitherto he had 
 been familiar, in his mother and aunt, only 
 with that severe and business-like consci- 
 entiousness, in all intellectual and moral 
 matters, which borders on the masculine ; 
 here was a nature that craved only to sip 
 the foam of life. Why require anything 
 further of it? 
 
 When Bella was one day walking with 
 Eric in the park, Roland and Lina mean- 
 while sitting with Clodwig, she complained 
 of not being able to repress the religious 
 doubts that often beset her, while, at the 
 same time, existence without a belief in a 
 compensating future life was a terrible 
 enigma. Without wishing to weaken this 
 idea, Eric sought to give her the assured 
 peace which can be found in the realms of 
 pure thought. There was a strange con- 
 tradiction in the hearts of these two, imag- 
 ining, as they did, that they were speaking 
 of things far above and beyond all life, while 
 in reality they were talking of life itself, 
 and that in a way whose significance they 
 would not willingly have acknowledged to 
 themselves. 
 
 Suddenly Betram came riding towards 
 them, his horse white with foam, and while 
 at a distance cried out, — 
 
 "Herr Captain, you must return in- 
 stantly. 11 
 
 " What has happened ? 11 asked Eric. _ 
 Clodwig came up with Roland and Lina, 
 
 and Pranken also appeared at the windows, 
 
 all anxious to know what had happened. 
 "Thieves! robbers! 11 cried Bertram. 
 
 " The villa has been broken into, and Herr 
 
 Sonnenkamp's room entered." 
 
 A few moments later, Eric and Pranken 
 were in the wagon driving back to the villa. 
 Pranken^ vexation was extreme, for he had 
 taken the whole responsibilitv upon him- 
 self. 
 
 For a long time neither of the three 
 spoke, until at 'last Roland broke the si- 
 lence, by asking Eric what he thought 
 Franklin would have thought and said of 
 such a robbery. 
 
 Pranken replied with some warmth, "I 
 should think a son^ first question would 
 be, ' What will my father say to it ? 1 11 
 
 Roland and Eric were silent. Again 
 they drove on for a lonoj while without a 
 word being spoken. Eric was tormented 
 by accusing thoughts. He seemed to him- 
 self doubly a thief. These men had broken 
 into the rooms of the villa by night ; what 
 had he done ? He had forgotten the soul 
 entrusted to him, and, worse still, after be- 
 ing received by the kindest friendship, he 
 had, under cover of lofty thoughts and no- 
 ble sentiments, in word, thought, and look 
 been faithless to the most precious trust in 
 the person of his friend^ wife. He pressed 
 his hand to his heart, which beat as if it 
 would burst his bosom. Those men, for 
 having stolen gold, would be overtaken by 
 the justice of the law ; tmt for himself, — 
 what would overtake him? Conscious that 
 Roland^ eyes were fixed upon him, he cast 
 his own on the ground in painful confusion. 
 
 Finally he controlled himself, and said in 
 a trembling voice, that he should assume the 
 entire responsibility ; he acknowledged 
 Pranken 1 s friendliness, but felt that in such 
 a case as this, no one could interpose be- 
 tween himself and the consequences of neg- 
 lect of duty. So severely did he reproach 
 himself, that Roland and Pranken looked at 
 him in amazement. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 LEARN THE EVIL THAT IS IN MAN. 
 
 Villa Eden had hitherto been sur- 
 rounded by a mysterious magic. Fear and 
 envy had given rise to the report that there 
 was something wrong about the inmates ; 
 about Herr Sonnenkamp, whom everybody 
 saw, and Frau Ceres, whom scarcely any- 
 body saw. The threats of spring-guns and 
 man-traps posted upon the walls imbued 
 the ignorant people in the neighborhood 
 with an almost superstitious fear. It was 
 even said that Herr Sonnenkamp had 
 smeared the trap with a poison for which 
 there was no antidote. The servants of 
 the house affected somewhat the reserve of 
 their superiors ; they had little intercourse 
 with others, and were hardly saluted by 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 203 
 
 them. But the mysterious dragon, which, 
 no one knew how or where, kept secret 
 watch over the villa, seemed nothing but a 
 scarecrow after this robbery ; the beautiful 
 white house was stripped of its charm ; it 
 was as if all the bolts were thrown back. 
 Quickly the report gained ground that the 
 house-servants had committed the robbery. 
 
 The people on the roads and in the vil- 
 lages through which the carriage • passed 
 looked up and nodded to Eric, Roland, and 
 Pranken, as they drove swiftly by. The 
 few who raised their caps did it hesitatingly, 
 as if they, like the rest, would say, It is all 
 up now with your master ; the officers will 
 soon find out what has been going on 
 among you. 
 
 The three men found everything in con- 
 fusion at the villa when they arrived. 
 
 The porter at once expressed conviction 
 that the robbery had been committed by 
 persons belonging to the house, because all 
 the doors had been closely fastened, and not 
 a dog had barked ; showing that the thieves 
 must have been familiar with the house, 
 and well known to the dogs. 
 
 The officers were already on the spot. 
 Sonnenkamp's work-room had been entered, 
 and treasures stolen whose value could not 
 be estimated, among them a dagger with 
 a jewelled handle. The thieves had even 
 tried to force the fire-proof safe, but in vain. 
 Great goblets of gold and silver which stood 
 upon the sideboard in the dressing-room 
 had disappeared, as well as Roland's gold 
 watch, which, when he went to Wolfsgarten, 
 he had left on the table beside his bed. His 
 pillow had also been taken, but was after- 
 wards found on the wall, where it had 
 served to make a smooth and easy passage 
 over the broken glass which had been in- 
 tended to make the wall insurmountable. 
 
 Two footprints were discovered in the 
 park and behind the hot-house. The thieves 
 must have stumbled among the heaps of gar- 
 den mould, for on one of these was plainly 
 visible the impression of a human body ; one 
 of the thieves had evidently fallen there. 
 Here was also found a pair of the dwarf's 
 old boots, which, on being compared with 
 the footprints in the garden, were found 
 exactly to correspond. Thus a clue was 
 gained, though a very uncertain one. The 
 dwarf just then came by, on his way to his 
 accustomed work, and listened in aston- 
 ishment to an account of what had happened. 
 He was allowed to work on undisturbed. 
 
 The officer who had charge of the investi- 
 gation, and his assistants, the burgomaster 
 of the. village, and some of the chief men, 
 were assembled in the balcony-room, ex- 
 amining the various servants. Roland stood 
 
 apart, his eyes fixed upon the pillow which 
 had been stolen and made use of by the 
 thieves in climbing the wall. He grew very 
 pale, as he stood there listening to the ques- 
 tions that were asked of one man after an- 
 other, in the hope of extorting something 
 from each. 
 
 ' The dwarf appeared, and said that a pair of 
 boots had been stolen from him. 
 
 " Yes, 1 ' replied the officer at once, " the 
 theft was committed in your boots. 11 
 
 The dwarfs face wore a simple expression, 
 as if he had not understood what was meant. 
 
 The officer ordered his instant arrest. He 
 complained piteously that the innocent were 
 always the ones to be suspected, and Ro- 
 land begged that the poor creature might 
 be allowed to go free. 
 
 " I will throttle any one who touches 
 me, 11 cried the dwarf, his excitement seem- 
 ing to make a different being of him. 
 
 At a sign from the officer, two men quiet- 
 ly bound the poor creature^ hands behind 
 his back. 
 
 Eric led Roland away. Why should he 
 see this night-side of human nature ? 
 
 Happily the Major appeared at this mo- 
 ment, and Eric delivered Roland to him. 
 
 " Here is a lesson for you, young man, 11 
 said the Major. " Everything can be stolen 
 from you, except your heart, when in the 
 right place, and except what you have in your 
 head ; they can never be stolen from you. 
 Mark that." 
 
 The officer had the servants brought be- 
 fore him, and questioned them as to the per- 
 sons who had lately visited the villa. They 
 mentioned the names of many, but the por- 
 ter said, — 
 
 "The Herr Captain took the huntsman 
 by himself over the whole house, and when 
 he left he said to me, ' You guard the rich 
 man's money and treasures, when it would 
 be better to throw the doors wide open, and 
 to scatter it abroad in the world. 1 11 
 
 Eric could not deny that the huntsman 
 had observed everything very closely, and 
 had talked in a confused way about the dis- 
 tinction of rich and - poor ; yet he thought 
 he could answer for the man's honesty. 
 
 The officer made no answer, but des- 
 patched two of his men to search the house 
 of Claus. 
 
 The huntsman smiled and shrugged his 
 shoulders, when he saw what their intention 
 was. Nothing was found, but in a kennel 
 was chained a dog that barked incessantly. 
 
 " Unfasten the dog^ chain, 11 said one of 
 the men to Claus, who had followed them 
 through all the rooms and into the court, 
 saying nothing, but keeping his lips moving 
 all the time. 
 
204 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 l * What for? " 
 
 " Because I bid you ; if you don't do it 
 at once, I shall shoot the dog through the 
 head." 
 
 Upon the dog being set free, the kennel 
 was searched, and in it, under the straw, 
 were found Roland's watch and the jewel- 
 halted dagger. Claus was immediately bound 
 and put under arrest, in spite of his earnest 
 protestations of innocence. On the way 
 from his house to the villa he kept raising 
 his chains, as if to show them appcalingly to 
 the holds, the vineyards, and the heavens. 
 
 A list was made out of the stolen articles 
 as far as they could be described, and Ro- 
 land was summoned to sign his name for the 
 first time to an official document. 
 
 "There is no calculating the effect such 
 a thing must produce on the boy," said 
 Eric to the Major, who was standing by. 
 
 " It will do him no harm," replied the 
 Major; " his heart is sound, and Fräulein 
 Milch says, ' A young heart and a young 
 stomach are quick digesters. 1 " 
 
 Fraulein Milch was mistaken this time, 
 for at sight of Claus brought in in chains, 
 Roland uttered a cry of distress. 
 
 A new scent was presently started. The 
 groom, who had been in Pranken's pay as a 
 spy, and afterwards dismissed by Sonnen- 
 kamp, had, within the last few days, been 
 seen and recognized in the neighborhood, 
 though he had taken great pains to disguise 
 himself. Telegrams were immediately des- 
 patched in all directions for the arrest of 
 the supposed thief, and also to Sonnenkamp. 
 
 The priest came, lamented what had hap- 
 pened, using a noble charity in speaking of 
 the disaster, and begged Eric not to lay it 
 too much to heart, because, devoted as he 
 had been to learning and science, he could 
 naturally have no proper knowledge of the 
 wickedness of his fellow-men, and had nat- 
 urally allowed himself to be taken unawares 
 by it. 
 
 Eric was more humbled in spirit than the 
 priest thought reasonable. He remembered 
 having once said, that the man who conse- 
 crates himself to an idea must renounce all 
 else ; and now he was humiliated by stand- 
 ing in the presence of one who, in his way, 
 acted up to this sentiment, while he himself 
 had allowed the excitement of mental dis- 
 sipation to drag him down from his high 
 standard. 
 
 The priest repeated, that in all our plans 
 we should take into account the wickedness 
 of mankind; and Eric, who hardly knew 
 what answer to make, assured him that he 
 was well aware of the necessity, having vol- 
 
 men to their better selves. Neither Eric 
 nor the priest, who praised him, noticed the 
 effect which this confession produced upon 
 Roland. He was, then, in the hands of a 
 man who had tried to counsel criminals, 
 who had lived in a House of Correction ! A 
 fear and repugnance took possession of the 
 boy's soul. Eric's motive was forgotten; 
 Roland seemed to himself humiliated. He 
 sat a long time silently buried in thought, 
 his face covered with his hands. 
 
 The priest approached him at last, and 
 admonished him not to let this accident dis- 
 hearten him, but only let it teach him not 
 to place his trust in the treasures of this 
 world, particularly in his own possessions ; 
 neither to have that so-called faith in hu- 
 manity, which is a deceitful faith, exposed 
 to daily shocks ; for there was but one sure 
 and abiding faith, that in God, the supreme 
 being, eternal and unchanging, who never 
 deceives. 
 
 Roland remained silent and absorbed for 
 some time after he and Eric were left 
 alone ; finally he asked : — 
 
 "Does my father know what you once 
 
 were ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me?" 
 
 " Why? I had no reason for concealing 
 it from you, or for telling you." 
 
 The boy again covered his face with his 
 hands, and Eric, feeling that the course he 
 was here called upon to defend was one un- 
 dertaken from the purest motives, while 
 within him he was conscious of a guilt 
 which none but himself could upbraid him 
 with, explained to Roland how he had felt 
 it his duty to devote himself to the most 
 unhappy. He spoke so touchingly that the 
 boy suddenly raised his head, and, holding 
 out his hand to him, exclaimed in a tone of 
 the deepest feeling : — 
 
 " Forgive me ! Ah, you are better than 
 all." 
 
 The words smote Eric to the soul. 
 
 The officers of the law had left the villa, 
 and even Pranken had ridden away. Ro- 
 land went about the house, looking fear- 
 fully behind him, as if he had seen a ghost, 
 an evil spirit. • The stairs had been trod- 
 den by wicked men, the doors had been 
 tried by their instruments ; the house and 
 all its treasures had been desecrated ; he had 
 lost- pleasure not only in the things which 
 had been plundered, but still more in those 
 which could not be taken, which the thieves 
 had been obliged to leave. 
 
 He begged Eric not to leave him for a 
 moment, so great was his fear. At night 
 
 untarily passed some time in a House of he was unwilling to go to bed ; rest seemed 
 Correction, for the sake of restoring guilty I impossible to him in a place where the 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 205 
 
 hands of robbers bad taken the pillows 
 from his bed. Eric yielded to his entreat- 
 ies that he would remain by him, and said, 
 after Roland had finally gone to bed, — 
 
 " I owe you an answer to your question, 
 — What would Franklin have saicA) this rob- 
 bery ? I think I know. He Äuld have 
 had no compassion on the thieves ; he 
 would have given them up to the full 
 penalty of the law ; but at the same time 
 he would have maintained, that the wicked- 
 ness of individuals should not be allowed 
 to rob us of our faith in humanity ; for if 
 thieves could inflict that loss upon us, they 
 would be robbing us of more than hands 
 can touch." 
 
 Roland nodded assent. Long after he 
 had fallen asleep, Eric stood by the bed- 
 side, thoughtfully watching the boy, who had 
 had to learn this lesson thus early, — Of what 
 use is all this subtle study ; of what advan- 
 tage any conscious training? An invisible, 
 irresistible power, the great current of 
 life's experience, educates a man far more 
 than a single human teacher can do, and in 
 a different way. 
 
 Long did Eric stand at the window, gaz- 
 ing out upon the river and the vine-covered 
 hills. We all work according to the 
 strength that is in us ; the result of our 
 labors lies not in our hands, but in the con- 
 trol of that invisible, all-embracing power 
 whose origin we know not, and which we can 
 only call God. • 
 
 Eric was deeply moved. This event 
 could not afflict his young charge so deeply 
 as it did him, for he was conscious of a 
 power mightier than any effort of his own 
 thoughts, drawing him back from the edge 
 of an abyss. He looked into the future, 
 and a fixed resolve was formed within him. 
 
 He was summoned away by a messenger 
 from the officer who had conducted the 
 examination, bringing a telegram from 
 Sonnenkamp. It ran thus : — 
 
 "Journey to sea-shore given up; com- 
 ing home ; shall find thieves, under what- 
 ever title." 
 
 BOOK VI. CHAPTER I. 
 THE MASTER AT HOME AGAIN. 
 
 Herr Soxxexkamp returned to his villa 
 like a ruler to his castle where a mutiny 
 has lately broken out. Every step in his 
 house, every glance at a servant, said, 
 I am here again, and with me authority and 
 order. 
 
 Eric did not lay upon Pranken the 
 blame of what had happened, but confessed 
 that he himself had been guilty of neglect 
 
 of duty. Sonnenkamp seemed to take 
 pleasure in seeing Eric humbled. He was 
 one of those who love to rule others. 
 With enough humanity in him to make him 
 prefer a willing obedience, he yet had no 
 rest, when that proved impossible, till his 
 man was subdued and brought to his feet ; 
 then, and not till then, was he willing to 
 raise him up, for not till then was he sure 
 of the mastery. This self-reliant Captain- 
 doctor had assumed a demeanor that was 
 unbecoming in him ; now he was humbled, 
 and would have to be grateful for every act 
 of kindness and friendliness done him. 
 Sonnenkamp had no suspicion of the satis- 
 faction Eric took in his humiliation, or of his 
 motives for it ; he regarded this humble sub- 
 mission as a triumph of his authority, while 
 to Eric himself it was a confession of weak- 
 ness in having been tempted by the magic 
 of Bella's charms to forget the strict watch- 
 fulness which was his duty. 
 
 Sonnenkamp soon perceived that the 
 amount of the robbery was insignificant. 
 He said, with a certain malicious pleas- 
 ure : — 
 
 ' ' The knaves stole my jewelled dagger ; 
 it has a poisoned point, which is death to 
 whomsoever it scratches.'" 
 
 Eric had hardly power left to tell that the 
 dagger was already in possession of the offi- 
 cers of justice, so great a horror thrilled 
 him. Why should this man keep a pois- 
 oned dagger ? 
 
 Pranken and the Major soon appeared, 
 and Pranken was honest enough to take 
 the whole responsibility upon himself. He 
 could not refrain from saying, however, that 
 Eric had previously left the villa to go to 
 a musical festival, and had won a surprising 
 reputation there. Sonnenkamp said, with a 
 smile : — 
 
 "You kept Roland at home instead of 
 letting him go to the Baths, in order to keep 
 him free from excitement ; have you pre- 
 served him from it ? " 
 
 Eric was prevented from answering by 
 the arrival of the priest, to whom Sonnen- 
 kamp, who had never made any gift to the 
 church, announced his intention of present- 
 ing to it the gold and silver vessels which 
 had been taken from the sideboard. As if 
 involuntarily, he added : — 
 
 " I don't want them any more in my 
 house. You, reverend sir, will give them 
 a fresh consecration." 
 
 Eric expressed in a whisper to the Major, 
 who stood by him, his pleasure at this ar- 
 rangement, and his belief that it would ex- 
 ert a salutary influence on Roland, whose 
 peace of mind had been in a great measure 
 destroyed by the robbery. Sonnenkamp 
 
206 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 heard his words, though spoken in so low a 
 tone, and said : — 
 
 11 My highly honored Herr Captain, let 
 me tell you honestly that I have nothing to 
 do with sentimentalities, and that I desire 
 Roland should early acquire a knowledge 
 of these so-called well-disposed lower class- 
 es, and learn that they are nothing but a 
 mass of conspiracy against the holders of 
 property, awaiting the first favorable oppor- 
 tunity to break out, or rather to break in." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was in the highest degree 
 animated and cheerful. His only cause of 
 regret was, that there should have been so 
 much talk made about the affair in the 
 neighborhood, and that so much valuable 
 time had to be lost in the processes of law. 
 Frau Ceres said not a word about the rob- 
 bery ; it almost seemed as if she had not 
 heard of it. She only rejoiced that Roland 
 had grown so much during her absence. 
 She told Eric that she had met at the Baths 
 a most aristocratic and amiable ]ady, a 
 relation of his mother, who had spoken 
 of her with great enthusiasm. 
 
 The very first evening after the return of 
 Sonnenkamp and his family, a carriage drove 
 up in which were Bella and Clodwig. Eric 
 was delighted to greet his friends, but was 
 somewhat shy of Bella. 
 
 " We have come to protect you from this 
 savage, 1 ' she whispered to him behind her 
 fan; " we will show him that you belong 
 to us. And now you will leave everything 
 and come to us, will you not ? " 
 
 The words thrilled Eric ; he could only 
 bow his thanks. 
 
 Bella observed her husband's embarrass- 
 ment as he stood with Sonnenkamp. His 
 fine and sensitive nature could never over- 
 come a feeling of timidity, of terror, when- 
 ever he found himself confronted with this 
 herculean shape. Bella helped him out of 
 the difficulty by saying jestingly, "Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, you must have seen many 
 strange things in your life ; did you ever 
 happen to fall in with thieves who openly 
 confessed they had stolen, or were proposing 
 to steal ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at her in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " We are such thieves, in broad day- 
 light,' 1 she cried, laughing, and turning to 
 her husband she continued : — 
 
 " Now do you speak, dear Clodwig." 
 
 Clodwig hesitatingly expressed his wish to 
 have Eric live with him. Sonnenkamp's 
 sharp glance fell upon Bella. The fore- 
 finger of his left hand was already raised 
 in playful menace against her, and he was 
 on the point of saying, "I understand you," 
 
 when he checked himself, and, laying his 
 finger on his lips, said : — 
 
 "I am glad to see that our Herr Eric " 
 — with a peculiar emphasis on the word 
 "our 11 — "that our Herr Eric stands so 
 high in y*r good graces." 
 
 Erie wai struck by the peculiar stress 
 laid upon "he word " our." He seemed to 
 have become a piece of "property. Still 
 more surprised was he at Sonnenkamp's 
 offering him his hand the next moment and 
 saying : — 
 
 " You remain ours, do you not? " 
 
 Eric bowed. 
 
 Bella dwelt, with intentional emphasis, 
 upon the particulars of her visit to Eric's 
 mother in the University-town. She evi- 
 dently desired to let Herr "Sonnenkamp know 
 that a man of Eric's rank and position was 
 not to be crushed on account of a trifling 
 act of neglect. Sonnenkamp whistled to 
 himself inaudibly, as if some plan were 
 ripening in him. 
 
 Bella contrived , again to be alone with 
 Eric, and expressed to him her satisfaction 
 at the success of her little plot. She knew, 
 she said, that Sonnenkamp would not let 
 him go, but she also knew that he would 
 humble him on account of the neglect he 
 had been guilty of, and therefore persuaded 
 Clodwig to drive over at once. Eric was 
 full of gratitude. 
 
 "Did you notice," she asked in a low 
 voice, "what a look Herr Sonnenkamp gave 
 me, and how he raised his finger at me ? 
 This man imagines that our friendship is 
 something more than friendship ; to the 
 impure nothing is pure. I think you will 
 not misunderstand me, if I sometimes inten- 
 tionally slight you in the presence of this 
 spying knave." . 
 
 She gave Eric her hand, and held his long 
 and tightly pressed. Neither suspected 
 that from behind a bush two eyes were 
 fixed upon them, and a sharp ear heard 
 their every word. When they had passed 
 on, Sonnenkamp drew a deep breath as a 
 relief from the long constraint he had put 
 upon himself. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 AN INALIENABLE POSSESSION. 
 
 The next morning came the tidings that 
 the groom whom Sonnenkamp had dismissed 
 shortly before his journey, suspecting him 
 of being a spy of Pranken's, had been 
 arrested in the capital in the very act of 
 offering for sale a large silver goblet. Ro- 
 land brought the news to Eric, and this was 
 only one of the many interruptions liable 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 207 
 
 at any moment to break in upon the hours of 
 study and thought, in consequence of this rob- 
 bery. Of what use were lessons when the mind 
 was thus excited ? What lasting impression 
 could be made ? At one time Eric thought 
 of going hunting more frequently with Ro- 
 land, in order to amuse him and let him 
 gain fresh elasticity and powers of obser- 
 vation by the pursuit of new objects. But 
 he finally decided on the opposite course, 
 that of helping his pupil not by amusement,, 
 but by closer application to his studies. 
 Great was his satisfaction, therefore, at hav- 
 ing Roland say to him, — 
 
 " Let us forget all else and quietly go on 
 with our work. 1 ' 
 
 The boy's love of study had received an 
 impulse which made every interruption dis- 
 tasteful to him, and led him to look for his 
 best pleasures in his books. 
 
 Roland soon became conscious of a fresh 
 energy in Eric, without being able to con- 
 jecture its cause ; it was the exaltation that 
 follows a danger escaped, escaped by one's 
 own effort. Whenever Eric thought of the 
 days at Wolfsgarten, and his trilling with 
 those feelings which should be the finest of 
 the human heart, he seemed to himself a 
 thief. He had recklessly staked the entire 
 capital which he had so laboriously won ; 
 he had allowed himself, under a pretended 
 interchange of noble thoughts, to toy with 
 Bella : to liirt, as he called it in plain lan- 
 guage, with Clodwig's wife. To his mind, 
 he had violated a sanctuary ; how small, how 
 infinitely small in comparison, seemed the 
 offence of these poor people ! He felt 
 deeply humbled in his own eyes. How 
 gladly would he have made a pilgrimage 
 with Roland to some temple where he could 
 purify himself, and where Roland could gain 
 new strength ! Whither should he turn ? 
 
 It is easier for one wearied in the excit- 
 ing race of life, and burdened in conscience, 
 to enter into the invisible temple built with 
 hands than into the visible temple of sci- 
 ence ; yet Eric succeeded in doing this. 
 What he would with difficulty have accom- 
 plished for himself, perhaps would have 
 failed to accomplish, he did from duty to 
 another. He lost himself in the love of 
 knowledge, and everything became clearer 
 and more intelligible. As an experienced 
 swimmer delights in the onward rush of 
 the waves, dives below the surface to rise 
 again to the light, and with vigorous arms 
 divides the waters ; so Eric plunged into 
 , science, and felt his heart swell with joy 
 when the mighty waves roared towards him. 
 Gone were all petty fears and anxieties, all 
 self-contest. 
 
 In Roland, too, deep currents were 
 
 stirred. He often went about as in a 
 dream. The ground beneath him, which he 
 now knew to be in constant motion, swam 
 before his eyes : the heavens were no longer 
 there ; the old world was dissolved and a 
 new one revealed ; while mingling with all 
 this new life within him was the thought 
 that all private property would be abolished, 
 and poverty and riches divided equally 
 among men. Eric observed this excitement 
 in the mind of his pupil. Roland said to 
 him one day timidly, — 
 
 " Tell me, Eric, if there will ever come 
 to be no more private property in the world, 
 and consequently no more thieves." 
 
 Eric was startled to see how this strange 
 idea had taken hold of the boy. He ex- 
 plained that he had only brought that up as 
 an illustration ; the thing itself was an im- 
 possibility ; he had only meant to show 
 what a radical change might be worked in 
 the minds and lives of men. 
 
 Fresh evidences of this unaccountable 
 tendency of the boy's thoughts were con- 
 stantly appearing. One day he asked Eric 
 to go with him to the huntsman's, to see 
 how his wife and children were faring. He 
 said he had met the man's son, a cooper in 
 the service of the Wine-count, a little while 
 ago, and had offered to shake hands with 
 him, telling him the son was not to blame 
 for what the father had done, even if he 
 had done anything wrong, which he cer- 
 tainly had not ; but that the cooper had 
 stared at him, and instead of taking his of- 
 fered hand, had drawn his hammer from his 
 leather apron, swung it back and forth for a 
 while, and finally walked off. 
 
 When Eric and Roland approached the 
 huntsman's house, the birds in the cages 
 were singing, busiest among them the 
 blackbird, with his incessant chirp of thanks- 
 giving, and the dogs were bounding merrily. 
 The wife looked ill and slatternly, and was 
 full of complaints. She told how she had 
 wanted to let all the birds out after her hus- 
 band was taken to prison, but her son, the 
 cooper, insisted on everything being left as 
 it was till his father came back, which was 
 sure to be very soon ; Sevenpiper had in 
 the mean while undertaken V> do part of her 
 husband's work, and the cooper attended to 
 the night duties, though he had to work so 
 hard through the day. Everything should 
 be done properly, that the place might be 
 kept open for her husband. 
 
 Eric offered her a sum of money, which 
 she refused, saying that her son, the cooper, 
 had forbidden her to accept anything from 
 Sonnenkamp's family. 
 
 " If this man is innocent, as I believe he 
 is," said Roland, when they were in the villa 
 
208 
 
 TELE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 again, *' what can make up to him for all 
 the anxiety and distress he has had to 
 suffer ? " 
 
 Eric had no satisfactory answer to give ; 
 he could only say that this was another 
 proof of the fact that the best things in life 
 could not be supplied by money. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE NEW ALLIES, AND A SUMMER FETE. 
 
 Hardly two weeks had gone by before 
 the lessons were interrupted again. Frau 
 Ceres, who was generally very quiet and 
 took no interest in anything, often referred 
 to a promise she had made to take Roland 
 to see the Cabinetsrathin, (wife of the cab- 
 inet-minister), whose acquaintance she had 
 formed at the Baths. 
 
 A grand excursion to the capital was de- 
 cided upon, which Eric alone was not invited 
 to join. The party set out in two carriages. 
 Frau Ceres, Fräulein Perini, and Roland in 
 one, and Sonnenkamp and Pranken in the 
 other. 
 
 Pranken began at once to express his sat- 
 isfaction at the friendly interest Sonnen- 
 kamp had shown in the Church ; he had on 
 his side already put things in such a train 
 that they could count upon the co-operation 
 of the higher clergy, who were very influ- 
 ential at Court, in carrying out their plan. 
 He felt some compunctions at profiting by 
 his frequent and intimate intercourse with 
 the Prince-cardinal, as a piece *of diplomacy ; 
 but he was vain enough to wish to pass off 
 upon the world in general and Sonnenkamp 
 in particular, as a stroke of worldly wisdom, 
 the inward illumination which he secretly 
 gloried in. 1 He rejoiced at the relation 
 thus easily established with the Cabinets- 
 rathin, upon whom outside pressure could 
 be brought to bear in a way hardly possible 
 with her husband. 
 
 As they drove by a handsome villa, whose 
 shutters were all barred, Pranken suggested 
 that Herr Sonnenkamp should buy it in order 
 to sell it again at a low price to the Cabinets- 
 rathin, who, as he knew, had long cherished 
 a strong desire for such a residence. Son- 
 nenkamp consented, on the condition that it 
 would accomplish his object. It would be 
 one of the levers, Pranken assured him, 
 though not the only one. 
 
 Although the two were alone together, 
 neither of them, singularly enough, men- 
 tioned their plan by name, till Sonnenkamp 
 said that the Cabinetsrathin had told him a 
 title of nobility was to be conferred on the 
 wine-merchant, and that he wished he might 
 get one first ; for he thought he had a bet- 
 
 ter right to the distinction, though he was 
 not going to marry his daughter to a dying 
 man, but rather to the freshest and liveliest 
 of noblemen. 
 
 Pranken smiled his thanks, but replied that 
 this priority of the Wine-count, — it could 
 hardly be called precedence — was rather ad- 
 vantageous than otherwise, as it made the 
 conferring of titles appear not so much a 
 matter of private negotiation. 
 
 " Your difficulties are greater than those 
 of the Wine-coünt," he added: "for the 
 Prince-cardinal stave*! in his house on his 
 last circuit, so that the Wine-count has on 
 his side the church party, which is as dis- 
 creet as it is powerful, while you, I would 
 say we, have no party. So much the bet- 
 ter ; the victory will be all our own. 1 ' 
 
 They reached the capital. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin was delighted, and 
 expressed to Pranken, whom she constantly 
 treated as the head, in fact the president of 
 the party, her great pleasure that a water- 
 ing-place acquaintance should have ripened 
 into a new friendship. 
 
 Pranken insinuatingly remarked that they 
 might become neighbors too. 
 
 The country-house was glowingly de- 
 scribed, and the fact cautiously yet emphat- 
 ically stated, that Sonnenkamp had already 
 bought the place for the sake of inducing 
 some noble friends to settle there by letting 
 them have it at a moderate sum. 
 
 The lady was delighted ; she knew the 
 house very well, it having once belonged to 
 friends of hers whom she had been in the 
 habit of visiting there. She quite envied 
 the people who should live in such a home 
 and have such noble neighbors. She had 
 told her husband, she said, that it was a dis- 
 grace to the State that such a man as Herr 
 Sonnenkamp should have no title. 
 
 Having thus prepared the way, Pranken 
 disclosed his plan to the Cabinetsrathin, who 
 assured him it could not but be a most de- 
 sirable thing for society, to have a man of 
 Herr Sonnenkamp's importance admitted to 
 a higher rank. Sonnenkamp assumed an 
 air of great shyness and modesty. A maid- 
 en receiving her first offer, which she was 
 quite prepared for, could not have looked 
 more bashfully on the ground ; he actually 
 blushed. 
 
 They drew their chairs nearer together, 
 as if now for the first time a right friendly 
 and confidential intercourse was established 
 among them. The lady begged that noth- 
 ing might be said to her husband upon the 
 matter at present ; she would manage that 
 part herself ; but it would be a good plan 
 to set some other influence at work ; if 
 Count Wolfsgarten, for instance, would start 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 209 
 
 the subject at court, it would be easy to play 
 into his hands. 
 
 Pranken laid great stress upon the cor- 
 dial friendship that existed between Clod- 
 wig and Sonnenkamp, but urged that a mat- 
 ter of this kind needed to be handled with 
 the greatest delicacy, such as only a lady of 
 the Cabinetsrathin's acknowledged tact 
 was capable of. 
 
 Sonnenkamp declared that he did not ask 
 for a title ; it must be offered him ; his 
 friends must see to that. He rejoiced in 
 the delicacy with which the Cabinetsr'ath- 
 in handled the matter, and he handled 
 it in like manner ; his whole demeanor said, 
 This is something quite out of the common 
 course. 
 
 He moved his hand quietly, as if he were 
 stroking the back of a very soft cat. 
 
 " Are there vineyards attached to this 
 country-house ? " suddenly asked the lady. 
 
 " To the best of my knowledge," answered 
 Pranken, ' ' there are three acres most favor- 
 ably situated." 
 
 He winked at Sonnenkamp, as much as to 
 say that these must of course be purchased 
 also. 
 
 Sonnenkamp at once lost his character of 
 modesty and bashfulness ; here was a ques- 
 tion of money ; here he was master, He 
 wanted to tell the lady that he could not 
 deal in any other than a business-like man- 
 ner ; when he had fairly got his patent of 
 nobility she should take possession of the 
 country-house and vineyards besides ; but 
 he was afraid to say it before Pranken, and 
 besides it seemed hardly necessary to come 
 out with it just yet. When it came to the 
 point, he would be man enough not to allow 
 himself to be cheated. There was a trium- 
 phant smile upon his face. 
 
 The Cabinetsrath entered, saluted Son- 
 nenkamp with formal politeness, and ex- 
 pressed his thanks for the courtesies shown 
 his wife at Vichy. 
 
 The party went into the hall, where were 
 Roland and the son of the house, a cadet. 
 Roland's beauty immediately attracted all 
 eyes, and made him the centre of the group. 
 The Cabinetsrath congratulated him on hav- 
 ing for a tutor such a finished scholar as 
 Eric, although he was somewhat eccentric 
 in his theories, and as Roland answered some 
 question that were addressed to him by say- 
 ing he should like to be an officer, advised 
 him to enter the school of cadets as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 Pranken said in an aside to the Cabinets- 
 räthin that he entirely approved of Herr 
 Sonenkamp 1 s plan not to let Roland enter 
 the school till he had received a title, thus 
 sparing him many embarrassments ; for if the 
 
 boy were suddenly admitted to the nobility 
 while in the school, there would be no end 
 to the jokes he would have to endure from 
 his companions. 
 
 The Cabinetsrath spoke of the rebuilding 
 of the ruins, of Sonnenkamp's well-known 
 skill in horticulture, and of the complimen- 
 tary manner in which he had often heard 
 them spoken of in the highest circles. 
 
 Sonnenkamp craved permission to send 
 some of his products occasionally to the 
 royal table, especially his beautiful bananas, 
 which were now particularly fine. Pranken 
 thought Herr Sonnenkamp's success in grape 
 culture the most remarkable, for he man- 
 aged to have fresh grapes upon his table 
 every month in the year. 
 
 The Cabinetsrath replied that this court- 
 esy would no doubt be very acceptable, 
 bnt he had no authority to speak in the mat- 
 ter. The Marshal, who was a cousin of 
 Herr von Pranken, would unquestionably 
 accept the offer. 
 
 Pranken at once took Herr Sonnenkamp 
 to see the Marshal, while Roland rode out 
 with the cadet. Frau Ceres remained with 
 the Cabinetsrathin, and apparently caused 
 that lady great surprise by urging her to ac- 
 cept the coral necklace which she wore upon 
 her neck, and which her friend had so much 
 admired. 
 
 The lady was obliged to accept it, but 
 begged Frau Ceres to consider it as a to- 
 ken of the intimacy of their private friend- 
 ship, and not to mention the gift to any one 
 else. She repeatedly declared that she used 
 her interest for her friends without the least 
 motive of selfishness. She laid great stress 
 upon this point, being convinced that Frau 
 Ceres was a party in the plan for gaining her 
 by presents. 
 
 Frau Ceres looked at her in amazement, 
 and thought herself again horribly stupid ; 
 •the woman was speaking ofthings of which 
 she knew nothing. 
 
 The party had not proposed to spend the 
 night in the capital, but on the minister's 
 wife proposing an excursion to some pleas- 
 ure-grounds, Pranken insisted on their re- 
 maining till the next day. It would be a 
 great advantage to have the two open car- 
 riages, with Frau Ceres and the Cabinets- 
 rathin in one, and Sonnenkamp, Pranken, 
 and the Cabinetsrath in the other, drive 
 through the streets of the capital to these 
 pleasure-grounds, where the best and most 
 select society would be assembled. The 
 best society should see that Sonnenkamp 
 was already admitted to close intimacy with 
 Count Pranken and the Cabinetsrath. 
 
 On the way the Cabinetsrathin was seized 
 with an idea as amiable as it was wise. 
 
210 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Both these merits delighted her, and not less 
 her own good-nature. She should win an 
 ally and help a poor woman. With great 
 condescension and pity, she spoke of Eric's 
 mother, who had with a foolish enthu- 
 siasm sacrificed her position to a so-called 
 ideal love. 'Here the Cabinetsrathin looked 
 towards Pranken, between whom and her- 
 self so close a league was already established 
 . that she did nothing without his approval. 
 A searcely.perceptible nod from him showing 
 her that she might continue, she appealed 
 to Herr Sonnenkamp to do something for 
 Eric's mother ; if possible, even to receive 
 her into his house. AuntClaudine also was 
 spoken of in terms of the highest praise. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin imagined that her 
 relations with the Sonnenkamp household 
 would be much more easily maintained, if 
 the Professors widow and the aunt formed 
 a part of it; then her intercourse would be 
 in a manner with them, and not with this 
 man. In tact it would be her duty to see 
 as much as possible of these noble women, 
 in order to soften their position of depend- 
 ence ; and that advantage, with many others, 
 would be easily secured when she had es- 
 tablished herself in that country-house, 
 which of course had several acres of vine- 
 yard attached to it. 
 
 Thus there was a mingling of motives, 
 with a good an'd animating result. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled blandly, but all the 
 while was saying to himself, — These nobles 
 hold together more closely than a band of 
 thieves ; in fact they are thieves, for all this 
 impoverished nobility wants to bolster itself 
 up by me. 
 
 He acceded politely to the lady's propo- 
 sition, with the inward reservation, You 
 have not that estate yet, and the Profes- 
 sor's widow may sit for a while longer at 
 her sewing-machine. 
 
 They drove by the country-seat of the 
 Prince, who had lately returned from Amer- 
 ica. Here everything was in perfect order, 
 and a table, with servants in attendance, 
 was spread in a long, narrow pavilion 
 erected in a grove by the roadside. The 
 sound of military music came from a public 
 garden, and the trees were hung with bright- 
 colored lamps. The officers of the Guard 
 were holding a summer- fete here. Bands 
 of music followed each other in quick suc- 
 cession, one beginning to play the moment 
 the other ceased. The officers were already 
 seated at a table spread under a great tent 
 in the middle of the public garden ; while at 
 smaller tables near by sat the dignitaries of 
 the capital, with their wives and daughters, 
 in gay summer dresses. 
 
 The two carriages drawn by Sonnen- 
 
 kamp's noble horses attracted great atten- 
 tion. ^ Pranken quickly gave the necessary 
 directions, and established his party at one 
 of the best tables, towards which many eye- 
 glasses were instantly directed. Pranken, 
 after speaking with his comrades and shak- 
 ing hands with one and another, soon re- 
 turned to Sonnenkamp and his party. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin leaned in the most 
 friendly way on Sonnenkamp's arm ; Pran- 
 ken escorted Frau Ceres ; Roland and the 
 cadet shot arrows at a target, Roland always 
 hitting the bull's eye. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was introduced to the Gen- 
 eral, and received from him a promise soon 
 to visit Villa Eden. Pranken was glad to 
 be able to show a new recruit in the person 
 of Roland. 
 
 As evening came on, the bright-colored 
 lamps were lighted. Suddenly there was a 
 firing of cannon, a beating of drums, and a 
 shouting of huzzas, in h©nor of the arrival 
 of the Prince from his estate to grace the 
 banquet of the officers. Both bands struck 
 up, "Hail to the Chief," and all was re- 
 joicing. Happiest of the whole company, 
 perhaps, was Sonnenkamp, who had been 
 presented to the Prince and received a few 
 commonplace words from him. Though 
 the words were nothing, the world had seen 
 the Prince speak with him and give him a 
 friendly greeting. 
 
 They drove back to the capital in a high 
 state of delight. The colored lamps kept 
 shining and the music sounding. 
 
 The next morning it was announced in 
 the papers : — 
 
 " Yesterday evening the cuirassiers of the 
 guard celebrated their annual festival on 
 Rudolph's Hill. His Highness, Prince Leon- 
 hard, graced the entertainment with his 
 presence. Among the guests was Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, of Villa Eden, with his highly- 
 respected family." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE PLACE IS TAKEN. 
 
 While the Sonnenkamp family was at the 
 capital, Eric rode to Wolfsgarten. He 
 had fought down every traitorous, unholy 
 thought within him, or rather had prevented 
 such from rising, and thought only of the 
 obligation that rested on him to show his 
 appreciation of the noble friendship which 
 Bella had certainly manifested towards him, 
 by speaking to her of the excellence and 
 truly admirable elevation of her husband's 
 character. That -was his sole purpose, and 
 with a clear and happy spirit he rode on his 
 way. 
 
 He found Clodwig alone, Bella having 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 211 
 
 driven out to make a visit. Clodwig was 
 glad to have Eric for once all to himself ; in 
 former visits he had too often had to amuse 
 himself with the boy, while Eric walked 
 with Bella. Clodwig told of the son of a 
 friend of his, the Russian Ambassador at 
 Naples, who had come to pursue under his 
 guidance the study of husbandry in Ger- 
 many. The fact of the abolition of serfdom 
 by the Emperor of Russia was producing a 
 great moral and economic effect. The 
 landowners would have to increase their own 
 resources, as well as those of the soil ; from 
 mere landowners they must become hus- 
 bandmen. The young Prince, like most 
 other princes, had been a little wild in 
 Paris, but there were the germs of good in 
 him, and a power of will which encouraged 
 the most favorable hopes. A sort of sacred 
 zeal for self-sacrifice and devotion to the 
 lower classes was not uncommon among the 
 Russians, and often took such strong pos- 
 session of the gay and dissipated as to re- 
 call the conversion of those saints we are 
 told of, who, from the wildest debauchees, 
 have suddenly been made conscious of their 
 moral responsibilities. 
 
 "But be on your guard,' 1 he said, as if 
 instructing Eric. " No aristocracy in the 
 world is so eager for knowledge as that of 
 Russia ; but unhappily their zeal and aspir- 
 ations run themselves out in a year or two, 
 and they easily fall back into lazy indiffer- 
 ence. They have a great talent for imita- 
 tion, but how persevering it will be, or 
 whether they can produce anything new, 
 remains to be proved. Perhaps this free- 
 ing of the serfs is a great moral turning- 
 point. 1 ' 
 
 Eric thought it a glorious proof of the 
 free spirit of the age, that this enfranchise- 
 ment was the work not of the clergy, whose 
 office it might seem peculiarly to be, but of 
 pure and simple humanity, having no eccle- 
 siastical stamp. 
 
 "That idea had not occurred to me," 
 answered Clodwig, expressing his gratitude 
 in word and tone. 
 
 The two men were still engaged in far- 
 reaching discussions concerning the power 
 of the spirit, and Clodwig was just express- 
 ing his pain at the power which brute force 
 exercises, over the spirit, so much greater 
 than man is willing to acknowledge to him- 
 self, Avhen Bella entered. Her face glowed 
 as she greeted Eric; and her companion, an 
 elegant but rather blase-looking young man, 
 gave him a gracious salutation. He was 
 glad, he said, that Eric spoke French so 
 fluently, for his own German was very 
 clumsy ; and he added that Eric's French 
 descent was apparent in his accent, which 
 
 was such as only a French tongue was capa- 
 ble of. 
 
 After separating for a short time, the 
 party reassembled for a second breakfast 
 in the room opening on the garden. 
 
 Clodwig must have strongly impressed 
 upon the Russian the advantages he would 
 derive from intercourse with Eric, for the 
 young man addressed him at once by say- 
 ing, " I should be very glad if you would 
 let me learn something from you." 
 
 He said it so confidingly, and with so 
 much of a child's submission, that Eric gave 
 him his hand, saying, — 
 
 " I am sure I shall be able to learn some- 
 thing from you too." 
 
 "Except whist, which everyone says I 
 play exceedingly well, I am afraid there is 
 nothing to be learned from me," laughed 
 the Russian. 
 
 Then, as a man who at once looks to the 
 producers for a knowledge of the products 
 of a country, he said, — 
 
 " I hear that philosophy has gone out of 
 fashion in Germany ; can you tell me any 
 reason for the fact ? " 
 
 Clodwig nodded; the topic was well 
 chosen, and the question modestly put. 
 
 Eric suggested as his opinion, without 
 having any definite information to give on 
 the subject, that perhaps philosophy was 
 regarded less as a separate science, and had 
 become the groundwork of all the sciences. 
 
 "Are you of opinion," asked the Prince, 
 " that the categorical imperative of Kant, and 
 the French Revolution, have tended to the 
 same results ? " 
 
 Bella laid back her head, and looked up 
 into the blue sky. The men were entering 
 upon themes which, in deference to her, 
 ought to be postponed to another time, but 
 she would be patient and listen. 
 
 Eric explained that the principle of Kant, 
 " So act that you can wish the rule of your 
 actions to be the rule of all human actions," 
 established the same ideal as the French 
 Revolution, with its equality before the law ; 
 there are to be no more privileged classes. 
 • " But does not this equality destroy all 
 greatness, all genius ? " asked the Russian. 
 
 Bella thought this a good opportunity for 
 breaking her silence, and quickly choosing 
 her side, she added : — 
 
 "I would go further, and ask if richly 
 endowed natures do not make new laws in 
 the intellectual and political world, as well 
 as the aesthetic. 11 
 
 Clodwig smiled to hear his wife thus trot- 
 ting out her hobby-horse, but Eric answered, 
 smilingly, — " That is the miserable mistake 
 for which Jesuitism in the Church, and fri- 
 volity in the world, are equally answerable. 
 
212 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OK THE RHINE. 
 
 Peculiar natures have been granted by the 
 world, and have come to claim for them- 
 selves, certain exceptional privileges and 
 immunities, which, if generally allowed, 
 would be subversive of human society. 
 What are called superior natures have 
 greater responsibilities than others, but no 
 exceptional rights. Before God and the 
 moral sense of humanity, we are all equal, 
 as Christianity exhaustively expresses in the 
 words, ' we are all children of God.' Chil- 
 dren are equal before their father. But the 
 Church grants indulgences ; the State, rights 
 of primogeniture ; sophistry, moral exemp- 
 tions. No single man of iron will come to 
 establish the new kingdom of equality ; the 
 kingdom is at hand ; its road is the iron rail, 
 its horse is the steam." 
 
 " You speak well ; it is a great pleasure 
 to me to have made your acquaintance," 
 said the Prince to Eric. " I pray you to 
 come often to see me ; or will you let me 
 come to you ? " 
 
 Eric, who, in his excitement, had said 
 more than he intended, expressed his thanks, 
 saying at the same time that he must conse- 
 crate his time and strength to his pupil. 
 He was angry with himself at thus speaking 
 out his whole heart on every occasion, in- 
 stead of adopting the light conversational 
 tone of society. He thought he knew what 
 the young noble meant by his compliment. 
 A beautiful way of speaking, indeed I A new 
 dish, a new sauce, new music, charming Ca- 
 priccios ! None but a fool would expose 
 the treasures of his heart to them. 
 
 Eric was struck with the expression of 
 Bella's face; it was set and hard. What 
 have I done, she thought, that he should 
 read me such a lesson about no one claim- 
 ing exemption from the rule of morality ? 
 She was thoroughly angry, and with diffi- 
 culty forced a smile to her face. She soon 
 controlled herself, however, and managed 
 to make the two young men enter upon a 
 little passage of arms before her. 
 
 The Prince had the advantage of Eric in 
 a knowledge of current events, and in prac- 
 tical experience of the world. Eric readily 
 granted the victory to be on his opponent's 
 side in many instances. 
 As they were walking in the garden, the 
 
 Prince leaning familiarly on Eric's arm, he 
 asked if Eric was acquainted with Herr 
 Weidmann, to whom Clodwig intended to 
 send him. 
 
 Eric replied that he had only seen him 
 once or twice, but that he was universally 
 esteemed. 
 
 " If you should happen to have any friend 
 like yourself," said the Prince, pressing 
 Eric's arm as he spoke, "if you should 
 know any one whom you could recommend 
 to be my guide and instructor, I could make 
 provision for him for life, or — excuse the 
 question — would you yourself perhaps — ? " 
 
 Eric declined the honor, but promised to 
 bear the subject of an instructor in mind. 
 
 Bella joined them, and Eric walked by 
 the side of the other two, his mind agitated 
 by a variety of emotions. He had pondered 
 so carefully on the best way of drawing him- 
 self and Bella back from that dangerous 
 boundary line of friendship, and here his 
 pains had been thrown away, for another 
 already occupied his place. His vanity was 
 secretly wounded that this man of the world, 
 with his prettily-dressed nothings, should at 
 once have become a greater favorite than he 
 with his tiresome solidities and all his his- 
 torical luggage. At heart he was indignant 
 at Bella's familiarity with the Russian, and 
 a strange confusion of feeling arose within 
 him. Should he be glad to think this wo- 
 man nothing but a coquette, trifling now 
 with one man and now with another ? or did 
 Bella thus act only to make less marked 
 her intimacy with himself, which she desired 
 not to display before others ? 
 ^ His mind was harassed by opposite emo- 
 tions ; one moment he was glad of the les- 
 son he had received, for now he could go 
 back to his work with an unburdened mind ; 
 the next he was again angry with himself 
 for his ignorance of the ways of polite soci- 
 ety. 
 
 The Doctor's arrival changed as usual the 
 current of the conversation. One sharp 
 glance embraced Bella, Eric, and the Rus- 
 sian, and seemed to reveal to him their re- 
 spective positions. Bella and the Doctor 
 always had a little private warfare going on 
 between them 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 213 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A HARSH JUDGMENT. 
 
 The Doctor desired Eric to tie his horse 
 to the back of the carriage, and drive with 
 him part way to the villa. 
 
 When the two were seated together, the 
 Doctor began, after first puffing out a long 
 breath : — 
 
 "A beautiful woman is Countess Bella, 
 and a clever. She loves her parrot, which, 
 ' apparently, is allowed to fly at liberty in 
 the forest, but must return obediently to his 
 mistress's shoulder." 
 
 " Permit me one observation," interrupted 
 Eric. "I have noticed that here in the 
 country, and wherever the society is limited, 
 the conversation is apt to turn upon a third 
 person, and generally — not in your case, 
 perhaps, but in the case of most persons 
 whom I have heard talk — in a not very 
 charitable way. Do you not consider this 
 a proof of narrowness, or whatever else 
 oftbat nature you may choose to call it? " 
 
 The Doctor perceived that Eric was 
 disinclined to pursue this subject, but he 
 nevertheless replied : — 
 
 " The human race affords the most abun- 
 dant material for conversation, and of that 
 race the most inexhaustible matter is fur- 
 nished by the variety woman. I am not 
 meaning now to speak of Bella, but of my- 
 self. I have discovered in this woman an 
 entirely new variety." 
 
 " With your permission, honored Herr 
 Doctor, the Countess seems to be in perfect 
 health." 
 
 "Did you never know Frau Bella 'be- 
 fore ? " 
 
 " But slightly," said Eric reluctantly. 
 
 " I, however, knew her well. She made a 
 marriage of convenience, as many others 
 have done, and I think none the worse of 
 her for it. My opinion on such matters dif- 
 fers from that of most men. The Countess 
 is modest as far as her talents are concerned, 
 but is proud of her morality. I happen to 
 know that she told the Count before the be- 
 trothal, that she was too insignificant for 
 him, was, in fact, not worthy of him. In 
 regard to intellect, her modesty was sincere, 
 though somewhat exaggeratedly expressed. 
 She has talent, but no soul ; she is all 
 seasoning, no solid food. But morally this 
 confession was perfectly true ; morality with 
 her is only propriety." 
 
 " I must beg you — " interposed Eric. 
 
 "And I must beg you," broke in the 
 Doctor, " to let me finish my sentence. 
 Her morality I mean is that of the world, 
 which considers only the outward marriage 
 essential, and knows no relation of mar- 
 
 riage save a relation of the outward tie. 
 To Count Clodwig, purity and beauty are a 
 law ; every sin against them offends his na- 
 ture ; he could not be guilty of the smallest 
 violation of them, even if no mortal eye 
 should detect it." 
 
 In the pause which ensued, Eric's heart 
 beat hard. Was the man describing Clod- 
 wig's purity, in order to show him how base 
 would be the slightest approach to injuring 
 or betraying such a friend ? 
 "The Doctor continued : — 
 "A man can receive no higher honor 
 than that of being Clodwig' s friend. I do 
 not love the aristocracy ; nay, I may even 
 say I hate them; but in this Count Clod- 
 wig there is a nobleness which perhaps can 
 only come to perfection through the foster- 
 ing care of generations, and cannot be fully 
 developed among us commoners, where 
 everything is a fresh conquest smelling of 
 the new varnish, which is always likely to 
 crack away. There is a steady, even tem- 
 perature about Clodwig, never amounting 
 to a hot blaze, but always a beneficent 
 warmth. You see I have learned from you 
 to make illustrations," he said playfully, 
 then continued, more seriously: — 
 
 " His one passion is for rest, which makes 
 it the more remarkable that he should have 
 sacrificed so much of it for your sake. I 
 do not agree with the wicked world in pro- 
 nouncing Countess Bella to be a very dragon 
 of virtue. On the contrary, she must have 
 every week, or every month at farthest, some 
 fair name to destroy, or, better, some guilty 
 person to use her cat's claws upon ; like a 
 well-trained hound, she likes best to attack a 
 poor hare in the eyes ; then she is satisfied, 
 perfectly polite and obliging, harming no- 
 body, for she is not really cruel and pitiless. 
 She speaks very kindly of any one so long as 
 he is unfortunate ; when people are humbled 
 she readily pardons them ; as soon as a 
 man is sick she is most kindly disposed 
 towards him, but as long as he keeps well 
 he need expect nothing but severity from 
 her. She has beautiful and abundant hair, 
 but that does not please her so much as the 
 being able to tell of this woman or that, how 
 many pounds of false hair she wears. If" 
 she can say that any woman is scrofulous, 
 she is quite happy ; for she would have only 
 the Prankens perfectly sound. Ondte let her 
 make an assertion, and she never retreats 
 from it; better that her husband, Pranken, 
 the whole world, should be illogical, than 
 that she should be mistaken. Bella von 
 Wolfsgarten never allows herself to be mis- 
 taken. She has never worn an unbecom- 
 ing dress, has never said a word which 
 might not be engraved upon stone. That 
 
214 
 
 TUE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 she calls character ; that she calls strength, 
 — never to confess to a mistake. Let the 
 logic of the whole world go to the devil fjirst ! 
 She can make the eggs dance nicely in con- 
 versation. Did you ever receive one of her 
 dainty little notes ? She can dance even 
 upon paper with the most supple grace. 1 ' 
 
 Eric passed his hand across his brow ; he 
 no longer knew where he was. The Doc- 
 tor threw away a half-smoked cigar, and 
 continued : — 
 
 " The wicked world hopes, and, alas ! its 
 hopes cannot be fulfilled without stabbing 
 our noble Clodwig to the heart, — it hopes 
 that this dragon of virtue will one day find 
 its unsaintly George. But that would have 
 to be a man whose ambition is, as we say, 
 to be successful with the women ; not one 
 to whom the words love, magnanimity, as- 
 piration, are realities, and who could not 
 use them as a cloak for other ends." 
 
 Eric knew not what to answer. He 
 clenched his fist to keep himself still, for he 
 felt himself trembling. 
 
 The Doctor pulled a string which brought 
 the drag against the wheel ; the wagon 
 went creaking and scraping down the hill ; 
 they looked over the precipice, at the bottom 
 of which a little brook was babbling over 
 rocks. Such an abyss had opened before 
 Eric. When they were driving again com- 
 fortably through the valley, the Doctor 
 resumed : — 
 
 "When I say the wicked world, I am 
 not using merely a figure of speech. I 
 must explain to you what this new variety 
 is that I have discovered in Frau Bella. It 
 is this. There have been, and there exist 
 still, many women who are, or who imagine 
 themselves to be, no matter which, yery 
 unhappy, or consider themselves very un- 
 fortunate because they have such inferior 
 husbands, — men who love horses, dogs, and 
 such -like, while they themselves are lofty, 
 unappreciated, ethereal souls. This new 
 variety, however, which Frau Bella repre- 
 sents, is different? She is unhappy because 
 of the greatness of her husband. Had she 
 one of those well-trained puppets which are 
 in the world for the purpose of wearing a 
 court-dress, she might, be unhappy, but 
 loftily so ; she could look upon herself as a 
 fair flower-crowned victim, suffer with pa- 
 tience, bewail her fate, be on a pinnacle 
 in fact, a being ever debarred from the no- 
 blest emotions of the heart. But by the 
 side of the husband she has, she grows con- 
 stantly more odious, more insignificant. 
 He humiliates her by casting her into the 
 shade ; nay, more : by condemning her im- 
 mature ideas only by a raising of his eye- 
 brows. In fact, — she does not, I think, 
 
 acknowledge it to herself, — she hates her 
 husband for making solemn earnest of her 
 light trifling with intellectual and moral 
 things ; he compels her to acknowledge 
 mistakes and follies, and severely enough is 
 he punished for doing so. I understand 
 now the fable of the Harpies. The modern 
 harpies besmear every noble thought till it 
 becomes unpalatable and nauseous ; and 
 thus must Clodwig wrestle and fight for the 
 common daily bread of the spirit. With 
 all this, she is not without nobleness ; she 
 likes to help the sick, only is somewhat 
 despotic in recommending her remedies. 
 But do you know what the most dangerous 
 thing about Frau Bella is ? " 
 
 "Indeed I do not; I cannot imagine 
 what climax you have yet to reach. 1 ' 
 
 " A very simple one. We hear the devil 
 talked about in the churches, but in these 
 days he appears as a very complaisant, 
 very noble and self-sacrificing demon, who 
 comes to us and says, — Here, you are the 
 friend of this woman; avail yourself of her 
 esteem for you, her confidence in you, to 
 put her in the right frame of mind ; you 
 must teach her to appreciate her husband, 
 to honor him as he desires to be honored. 
 This sophistical demon seems to be very 
 subtle, but is really the clumsiest of all; 
 for never did one human being learn to 
 value another, least of all, a wife her hus- 
 band, through a third person's influence. 
 There is a final impulse of life, and a final 
 impulse of love, which must come from 
 the person himself; and where that does 
 not exist, the tongues of angels would be 
 employed in vain. Have you seen the head 
 of Medusa? The ancients esteemed the 
 victory over Medusa to be the greatest 
 achievement of Theseus ; she is poisonous 
 beauty. In ancient times she hardened 
 men to stone, in modern, she softens them 
 into effeminacy. I have a special hatred 
 against this Frau Bella; do you know 
 why ? Because she makes a hypocrite 
 of me every time I go to Wolfsgarten. 
 I have no business to be so polite as I am 
 to her ; and the fact that I am so, out of 
 regard to Clodwig, is no excuse. No one • 
 has such a bad effect upon me as this Frau 
 Bella ; she makes a hypocrite of me, and 
 she kindles in me such a passion for destruc- 
 tion as I had not thought myself capable of. 
 She is a quack doctress. If I prescribe a 
 medicine, she always knows beforehand what 
 I am going to prescribe. Medicinally I 
 have pretty much broken down her preten- 
 sions, but intellectually she has more than 
 ever. She has family medicines and figures 
 of speech at her tongue's end, as if she had 
 been a deep student, whereas the root of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 215 
 
 her whole nature is want of reverence, an 
 impertinent meddling with every subject; 
 for everything is a vain show to her mind ; 
 she has no respect even for herself, 
 knowing that she is herself nothing but a 
 vain show. One deep-rooted trait in her 
 is ingratitude. Come what may to her, 
 she will still be ungrateful. If you want to 
 see the exact opposite to Bella, look at the 
 Major, who is grateful for everything, even 
 for the very air he breathes. That old 
 child of a Major is seventy years old, and 
 has not yet lost faith in human goodness. 
 If the devil incarnate were to appear, he 
 would find something good in him ; but this 
 Bella is without principle. A man may be 
 evil-minded, and yet have strength and ac- 
 tive powers left for the world's service ; 
 but an evil-minded woman is wholly evil 
 and only evil. Do you know who would 
 be a fit mate for Frau Bella ? " 
 
 " I know nothing about it, 1 ' cried Eric in 
 despair ; he felt as if he must jump out of 
 the wagon. 
 
 "The only man who would do for her, 
 the only man capable of subduing and gov- 
 erning this whole menagerie which bears 
 the name of Bella, is Herr Sonnenkamp ; 
 in fact, there is a secret sympathy between 
 them.' 1 
 
 Eric was glad he could laugh ; but the 
 Doctor continued : — 
 
 " I am a heretic, my young friend ; I be- 
 lieve that woman is an inferior variety in 
 the human race. A man can never be so 
 bad as a woman, can never be so hypocriti- 
 cal. For the latter quality, to be sure, 
 women are not responsible, having been 
 taught from childhood that the world cares 
 only for appearances. But the main de- 
 fect is, that they have no broad humanity ; 
 they do not go down to the first principles 
 from which all things start ; they regard 
 everything as being sewed and colored, in 
 the same way that their hats and man- 
 tillas are by the mantuamakers. On the 
 other hand, they stand under the curse of 
 the beasts : they cannot heartily rejoice 
 with another ; slander is a peculiar symp- 
 tom of blood-thirstiness. Throughout all 
 nature, the female is the crudest. " 
 
 Eric sat still and heard all this talked at 
 him. When they arrived at the place 
 where the Doctor was to get out, the good 
 man puffed out another long breath, and 
 said, his face glowing with his earnest- 
 ness, — 
 
 " Now I feel better. I have been chok- 
 ing with this for a long while. Thank you 
 for having listened so patiently. Young 
 friend," he continued, laying his hand 
 kindly on Eric's shoulder, "I am angry 
 
 with the poets, who, from fear of giving 
 offence to women, have dressed up this 
 clever show-woman. If I have said too 
 much of Frau Bella, as is possible, I yet 
 pray you to keep in mind the truths I 
 have told of her, which I have not exag- 
 gerated, and which I am ready any moment 
 to maintain. 11 
 
 Eric took his horse by the bridle, but did 
 not mount ; he travelled on, lost in thought. 
 That he should have heard such things 
 against Bella, and should have so poorly 
 defended her, pained him. With a look 
 almost of devotion he gazed upward to the 
 cloudless heaven above him ; he would keep 
 himself free from the guilt of palliating his 
 own faults. His heart turned to Roland, 
 and something within him said, I hope 
 from this time to be worthy to educate a 
 I human being ; for never again shall any 
 criminal trifling with thoughts and feelings 
 have place in me. I was vain ; I was 
 pleased at appearing brilliant, at being 
 praised by a handsome woman, at feeling 
 the light touch of her warm glove upon my 
 hand. No such man should dare to say, 
 I will in all purity educate a human being. 
 I hope now I am a man who can. 
 
 With a feeling of inward happiness he 
 pursued his way and reached the villa. 
 
 A telegram Avas awaiting him, saying that 
 the family would spend the night in the 
 capital. 
 
 Eric was alone. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A RECEIPT FOR THE FIRST INSTALMENT 
 OF SALARY. 
 
 Frau Ceres expressed herself in the 
 morning strongly disinclined to return to 
 the villa. The fete on Rudolph's hill still 
 floated before her fancy, and she wanted to 
 have another just like it to-day. She urged 
 the Cabinetsrathin at least to go back with 
 her to the villa and make her a visit. The 
 invitation was declined, but a visit promised 
 at an early date. 
 
 Frau Ceres was so much out of spirits, 
 that to cheer her up Sonnenkamp made 
 Pranken sit in the carriage with her, while 
 he drove with Roland. When he was alone 
 with his son, he questioned him on all kinds 
 of subjects ; he even went so far as to ask 
 him how often Eric visited the Countess 
 Bella, and whether they often took walks 
 alone together. 
 
 Roland was perplexed. 
 On the road they overtook the saddle- 
 horses, which had been sent homewards in 
 advance of the party. The horses were 
 wholly enveloped in coverings, so that only 
 
t 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 216 
 
 their eyes and feet were visible. Sonnen- 
 kamp ordered a halt to be made ; the crea- 
 tures' great eyes were fixed with a singular 
 expression on their master from under their 
 close coverings. He severely reprimanded 
 one of the grooms, whom he had seen at a 
 distance sitting on one of the horses instead 
 of walking by the animal's side. The next 
 act of disobedience should lose the man his 
 place. As they drove on, Roland made the 
 remark that these horses were better clothed 
 than many men. 
 
 Sonnenkamp threw a sidelong glance of 
 surprise at his son, but made no answer. 
 
 All at once Roland beckoned to the 
 driver to stop. He had noticed by the 
 road-side the teamster, employed in carting 
 the stone bottles to the mineral-spring, 
 whom he had walked with on that eventful 
 night. Alighting, Roland held out his hand 
 to the man and requested him to tell the 
 hostler, when he met him, that he was inno- 
 cent ; whereupon he resumed his seat in the 
 carriage, the teamster all the while staring 
 after him, while his father desired him to 
 tell him more about the strange rencontre. 
 
 Roland related all he knew, not omitting 
 the legend of the laughing sprite ; but the 
 story about this sprite seemwd to have no 
 effect upon Sonnenkamp's risibles ; and 
 when Roland remained, that he liked to 
 familiarize himself with the life of poor peo- 
 ple battling with abject misery, Sonnen- 
 kamp whistled the inaudible tune to him- 
 self. At the same time, the more Roland 
 talked, the more surprised did his father 
 appear at the mental activity of the lad ; 
 and the conversation in the old castle, after 
 Claus had questioned him, was brought back 
 to his mind with strange associations and 
 connections. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was inwardly debating what 
 to do. To dismiss Eric on the spot would 
 not answer, on Roland's account ; such per- 
 emptory ,dismissal might only make him 
 cling all the more obstinately to his errone- 
 ous views and tendencies. Besides, it 
 would be ill-advised to bring about a rup- 
 ture with Eric, on account of the Cabinets- 
 rathin, especially since she had expressed 
 herself strongly on the point of procuring 
 the assistance of Eric's mother ; above all 
 else, however, Clodwig had to be consid- 
 ered, for the connection with Clodwig was 
 not Pranken's, but Eric's work, and Clodwig 
 was the most powerful ally in the execution 
 of the plan. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was actuated by a twofold 
 jealousy : the clergy had taken one child 
 from him ; this time, a man of the world was 
 on the point of taking away the other. He 
 did not disapprove in direct terms of Eric's 
 
 ideas, he merely cautioned his son as to 
 there being no need of such utter submis- 
 sion to a paid person, adding that he saw 
 no necessity of his fretting too much about 
 his studies, which might do well enough for 
 people who had to fight their way in life, 
 but certainly not for a young man who 
 required just about knowledge enough to 
 be able to express an opinion of his own. 
 He admonished his son not to allow his 
 life to be disturbed by fantasies ; and found 
 it an easy task once more to make the glit- 
 ter of a soldier's life in the capital appear 
 very attractive to him. 
 
 Soon after the first salutations were 
 exchanged, Sonnenkamp enquired of Eric 
 where he had been the day before ; putting 
 this question very much like a master, 
 whose servant's time is by right his own,, 
 and who is therefore justified in demanding 
 a proper account thereof. 
 
 Eric told him of his visit to Wolfsgarten, 
 dwelling more particularly on a description 
 of the Russian prince. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled ; he was pleased to 
 see, that this proud virtue knew so well 
 how to hide his deviations from the straight 
 path . 
 
 Roland was evidently inclined to break 
 through the strict discipline which Eric 
 had introduced, and which he himself had 
 re-established ; whenever he stayed through 
 a lesson he looked sullen, the instiga- 
 tions of his father beginning to show their 
 effect. A glance at Eric frequently would 
 show the latter, that Roland almost looked 
 upon him as his jailor. Hitherto Roland 
 had only seen things with Eric's eyes, and 
 regarded whatever happened to him as if he 
 were expected to accept it for Eric's sake ; 
 all this was now at an end. In the dim 
 distance still resounded the notes of mar- 
 tial music and the laughter of military offi- 
 cers conversing gaily. 
 
 Eric could not but notice this change in 
 his pupil ; it made him feel sad. He 
 could devote all his energy to Roland. 
 Roland received it much against his will ; 
 and since he no longer hesitated to mani- 
 fest his displeasure, his ill-humor of old re- 
 turned and revived. Again and again the 
 hardship of a tutor's profession presented 
 itself to Eric's mind. He lived the past 
 over again. In his garrison, when off 
 duty, he had lived quietly by himself ; at 
 the parental home he was allowed to in- 
 dulge in his own fancies, his mother having 
 been habituated by his father to the belief, 
 that she ought to wait quietly to be spoken 
 to, inasmuch as learned men ought not to 
 be disturbed in their reflections ; and Eric 
 had been treated in the same way : he was 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 217 
 
 never disturbed, and was left entirely to his 
 own thoughts. Now, however, at table, or 
 while out driving, he had to answer the 
 numerous queries of both pupil and father, 
 who were fond of asking questions, and 
 having intricate ones solved for them. For 
 a long, long time, he had been accustomed 
 to an independent life, devoted to his own 
 mental improvement; now, however, it 
 seemed to him as if, together with his state 
 of servitude, he were losing himself, as if 
 he were but the shadow of his former past, 
 and nothing new nor fresh was stirring in 
 him, while all his former thoughts and feel- 
 ings appeared to require a forcible awak- 
 ening. Eric mourned over his mental de- 
 cline. Formerly he had hardly dared to 
 confess to himself, that he had derived new 
 animation and pleasure from being near 
 Bella — and that was to cease henceforth. 
 What then remained for him ? 
 
 He stood aghast at perceiving, that the 
 whole sanctity of his inner self had been 
 staked on another being, and a new reve- 
 lation came to him, which made Sonnen- 
 kamp's dissatisfaction, as well as that of his 
 pupil, appear as a just penalty. He re- 
 doubled his zeal, but in vain. 
 
 An event, seemingly trifling, and of a 
 surprising nature, brought the disturbing 
 elements to a crisis. Sonnenkamp paid 
 Eric the first instalment *of his salary in 
 Roland's presence, looking all the while tri- 
 umphantly at his son. Eric trembled, but 
 quickly recovered his self-control. He took 
 the gold and advanced a step or two to- 
 wards the window at which Roland was 
 standing. Sonnenkamp supposed, for a 
 moment, that he was going to throw the 
 gold out of the window, but Eric said, in a 
 tone of forced composure : — 
 
 " Roland, take my pay and carry the 
 money to my room. There you may wait 
 for me." 
 
 Roland took the gold, looking confusedly 
 at his father and Eric. 
 
 " Do me the favor of carrying that gold 
 to my room, 11 repeated Eric. " And now 
 go. 11 Roland went. He carried the money 
 as if it were a heavy burden, and repaired 
 to Eri^s room, where he deposited it on 
 the table. He then turned to go, when 
 the thought suddenly occurred to him, that 
 he ought also to watch it ; he was on the 
 point of locking the room, when he remem- 
 bered, that Eric had ordered him to wait 
 for his coming. He stood there, while 
 everything seemed to be whirling around. 
 What had happened ? 
 
 Suddenly Pranken came in to bid him 
 good-bye. He congratulated Roland upon 
 his speedy deliverance from Eric. Then 
 
 only did he realize what had happened, and 
 what was to follow. Pranken referred 
 slightingly to Eric, as to a man to whom he 
 might make certain concessions from sheer 
 pity. Merrily he bade Roland farewell. Af- 
 ter he had gone. Roland felt that he could no 
 longer have any love for Pranken, and 
 realized a sense of loss ; he quietly re- 
 mained standing at the table, looking down 
 upon the money before him. In a childlike' 
 way he began to count the sum Eric had 
 received. For what length of time had he 
 received it ? He could not .make it out, 
 and turned angrily aside to look out of the 
 window. Behind him on the table lay the 
 money ; he felt as if somebody near him 
 were whispering all the time : Forget me 
 not! 
 
 Meanwhile Eric was still in the room 
 with Sonnenkamp, who, with an air of great 
 astonishment, said, — 
 
 " You are wantonly destroying all attach- 
 ment between us. 11 
 
 Eric replied, that he might perhaps have 
 chosen a more appropriate time, and that 
 nothing but the manner in which he had 
 been paid had compelled him to act as he 
 had done. 
 
 " Have I hurt your feelings ? 11 
 
 " I am not very sensitive. I appreciate 
 money as far as it deserves to appreciated 
 and am always pleased at receiving my hon- 
 est wages. I am inclined to think that I 
 love your son more than — no matter ! there 
 is no standard to measure love by, — it can 
 only be measured by itself. 11 
 
 M I am obliged to you. 1 ' 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir; allow me to 
 finish my sentence. Just because I love 
 your son, I prefer to have the blame fall 
 upon me rather than upon his father. 11 
 
 " Upon me ? 11 
 
 "Yes, sir. I might have paid you back 
 for the way in which you paid me off in my 
 pupiPs presence ; I might have told you that 
 free labor — I abstain from using the word 
 love, and simply confine myself to refer to 
 such work as one man will do freely for an- 
 other — can never be paid. I suppressed 
 my feelings, because I wished that your son 
 should love and respect you more than he 
 does other people, than even myself. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp clenched his fists. He stared 
 at Eric for awhile, but soon looked down ; 
 he had to exert great self-control in order 
 not to betray that he trembled. 
 
 At last he said. — 
 
 " I doi^t know what you mean* by some 
 expressions you have used, and I don't want 
 to know. But I am the man to put a bul- 
 let through the forehead of him who at- 
 tempts 11 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 218 
 
 " I very readily comprehend your excite- 
 ment, 11 said Eric, quietly straightening him- 
 self up and looking Sonnenkamp coolly in 
 the face. 
 
 " Who are you? Who am I?" asked 
 Sonnenkamp, while his features were 
 strangely distorted. 
 
 " I am your son's tutor, and I know the 
 accountableness of my position ; I am in 
 your service ; this is your house, you can 
 turn me out of it at once." 
 
 " I will not do that — not that ! Have I 
 said that I would ? I must only explain 
 myself to you, and you must explain your- 
 self to me. Have you not said to Roland 
 that the time will come, or has already come, 
 when there would no longer be any private 
 property ? 11 
 
 Eric assured him that he had not the re- 
 motest purpose of doing anything of the 
 kind ; he was sorry that he made use of the 
 illustration, and regretted Roland's mis- 
 conception. 
 
 "Let us sit down, 1 ' said Sonnenkamp, 
 his knees trembling. " Let us talk calmly, 
 like reasonable men, like friends, if I may 
 be allowed to say so." 
 
 He whistled to himself, and then said, in a 
 wholly different tone, — - 
 
 " I must tell you, that irrespective of this 
 mistake, your whole tone of thought seems 
 to me dangerous to my son. You seem to 
 me, in fact, a philanthropist, and I honor 
 that ; you are one of those persons who 
 would like to thank every common laborer 
 in the road for his toil, and pay him also as 
 much as possible. You see I believe your 
 philanthropy is genuine, and not taken up 
 merely for the sake of popularity. But this 
 philanthropy — I speak without any dis- 
 guise — is not the thing for my son. My 
 son will have, at some time, a princely in- 
 come ; and if a rich man must go through life 
 in this way, always looking around to see 
 where there is poverty, where there is not 
 adequate compensation, he would be con- 
 demned to greater wretchedness than the 
 beggar in the ditch. The worst thing that 
 could be done to my son would be to make 
 him sentimental, or even pitiful and com- 
 passionate. I am not one of those men, and 
 I would not have my son to be one, who are 
 eternally longing after the ineffable, and, as 
 I believe, unattainable; I want for myself 
 and for my son a practical enjoyment of ex- 
 istence. Believe me, a contraband-trade 
 will be driven in feelings, if one persuades 
 himself that men in lower conditions have 
 the same susceptibilities that we have." 
 
 "I thank you," replied Eric, "for this 
 straightforward plainness of speech, and I 
 am glad that you have given me the oppor- 
 
 tunity to tell you that I have endeavored to 
 make Roland good-hearted, but not weak- 
 hearted. He is to comprehend the goodly 
 advantages of his life, so that he may* re- 
 ceive and make his own the noblest and the 
 highest ; he is to be a noble administrator 
 of the grand power that is to be put into 
 his hands." 
 
 Eric unfolded this more in detail, and 
 Sonnenkamp, extending his hand to him, 
 said, — 
 
 " You are — you are — a noble man, you 
 have also to be my educator. Forget what 
 has happened. I trust you now, uncondi- 
 tionally. I confide in you, that you will 
 not alienate from me the heart of my child, 
 that you will not make him a soft-hearted 
 helper of everybody and everything. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp jerked these words out for- 
 cibly, for he inwardly chafed, that this man, 
 whom he wanted to humble, had humbled 
 him, so that he was compelled to stand be- 
 fore him like a beggar, entreating a stranger 
 not to alienate from him the heart of his 
 child. 
 
 "Why," — he at last began again, "I 
 pray you, I only ask for information, for I 
 am convinced that you have good grounds 
 for every such step," — a spiteful glance, 
 notwithstanding all his guarded discretion, 
 gleamed forth at this question — "I only 
 ask for information, why youiiave restrained 
 Roland from making a free use of his purse, 
 as, since my return, I have been informed 
 is the case. 11 . 
 
 " I cannot give definite reasons for all my 
 doings, but I have a valid one for this. Ro- 
 land lavishes and squanders money, and he 
 does it ignorantly and wantonly, while I 
 consider the control of money a part of 
 self-control." 
 
 And now Eric informed Sonnenkamp what 
 an impression the robbery had made upon 
 Roland. Exultantly Sonnenkamp cried 
 out : — 
 
 "lam rejoiced that he has found out so 
 early how completely one is surrounded in 
 the world by knaves ; he will be cautious 
 whenever he comes to manage his own af- 
 fairs. Yes, Herr Philosopher, write down 
 in your books : The one trait in which man 
 surpasses the brutes is, that man is the only 
 animal who can dissemble and can lie. And 
 the sooner and the more perfectly my son 
 can know that fact, so much the better am 
 I pleased. I should be very glad if Roland 
 had been through the second grade of 
 schools." 
 
 " The second grade ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the first is, to bestow benefits upon 
 people, and then to get an insight into their 
 rascality ; the second is, to play games of - 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 219 
 
 chance, believing that one can make any 
 gain thereby. Debts of beneficence and 
 debts of the gaming-table are not very wil- 
 lingly paid. 1 ' 
 
 There was a certain fatherly tone in Son- 
 nenkamp's voice, as he praised Eric's tran- 
 scendental benevolent intents, at the same 
 time warning him of the baseness of the 
 whole brood of human creatures. His fun- 
 damental maxim was, that man is a wolf to 
 his fellow-man. 
 
 When Eric came to Roland, the latter 
 stretched out both his hands to him. 
 
 " I thank you," cried the boy, " for treat- 
 ing me as my father treated you ; yes, I 
 will have nothing more to do with money. 
 I beseech you, forgive my father for paying 
 you like a servant." 
 
 Eric had great difficulty in making an ex- 
 planation to the boy, so as not to disturb 
 and bewilder his natural feelings and per- 
 ceptions. The son must preserve love and 
 respect for his father. 
 
 "Put away the gold," Roland entreated. 
 Erie immediately put it away out of sight, 
 for he saw how it annoyed the youth. 
 
 " Give me something," he then tfesought. 
 
 " I have nothingto give," answeredEric. 
 "But you will know henceforth, that one hu- 
 man being can give something to another 
 which is of more value than all the gold in 
 the world ; we will both hold fast the prov- 
 erb : A friend who can desert you was 
 never your friend." 
 
 Roland kissed the hand which had re- 
 ceived the gold. Eric was opposed to all 
 sentimentality, but here he had witnessed 
 the opening of a flower, and had inhaled its 
 earliest fragrance., and this flower was a 
 youth's heart. 
 
 "We will go and see the Major," said 
 Roland at last ; it was evident that he wanted 
 to be with some person who had nothing to 
 do with all this perplexity, and simply lived 
 his own quiet life. 
 
 They went to the Majors, but did not find 
 him in. They walked for a long time to- 
 gether, until after dark, without speaking a 
 word. 
 
 Sonnenkamp also walked about the park 
 in the silent night, inwardly chafing at the 
 thought that there was always something to | 
 
 conceal, for a single expression of Eric's 
 that day had awakened a powerful struggle 
 within him. That expression was. free 
 labor. And then he began to wonder how 
 it had happened that he had allowed himself 
 to do anything to wound Eric, while it was 
 still his intention to send for his mother. 
 It produced a thrill of satisfaction in him, 
 when he thought how infinitely charitable 
 people would consider that. If he himself 
 could only have believed that it was true 
 charity ! But he knew what his own object 
 really was. No matter ! If the world be- 
 lieves in the noble and kindly, that is 
 enough. She who is rouged knows that she 
 has not red cheeks, but she takes pleasure 
 in the thought that the world believes she 
 has, and she is gay and girlish. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had desired that Pranken 
 should • purchase the neighboring villa 
 which they wished to sell to the Cabinets- 
 räthin. Pranken had declined to do it in a 
 friendly manner, and for good reasons, that 
 it would seem a natural measure for Sonnen- 
 kamp to take, in order to secure a good 
 neighbor. Sonnenkamp did not know 
 whether to hope or fear that Pranken had 
 already taken measures beforehand, and 
 thereby made a profit for himself. Was he 
 to be over-reached ? But it would be fine 
 if his son-in-law had such a prudent eye to 
 his own advantage. 
 
 Sonnenkamp did not concern himself 
 much the next few days with house or gar- 
 den, with Roland or Eric ; he visited the 
 country-house, offered to purchase the vine- 
 yards appertaining to it, and became com- 
 pletely convinced that Pranken had taken 
 no steps in the matter. He was well satis- 
 fied to acknowledge to himself that he had 
 not been thoroughly acquainted with the 
 nature of the nobility ; Pranken was a man 
 who would have nothing to do with any clan- 
 destine methods of gaining a pecuniary 
 profit. 
 
 The Wine-count was his principal com- 
 petitor for the country-house offered for 
 sale ; it was said he wanted to purchase it 
 for his son-in-law, the son of the Marshal of 
 the Prince's household. Sonnenkamp closed 
 the bargain immediately. 
 
220 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NOT EASILY DIGESTED BY ONE OF TH E 
 GUESTS. 
 
 If Claus had heard in prison that Son- 
 nenkamp had bought another country-house, 
 he would certainly have exclaimed, — 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Of course he'll buy up 
 the whole Rhineland yet. 11 But he learned 
 nothing of it. 
 
 The legal inquiry was protracted, and 
 the Judge was sufficiently well disposed to 
 draw up new papers for the interrogation 
 of Eric and Roland at the villa ; yet this 
 unpleasant occurrence interrupted the course 
 of instruction more than one could have 
 believed. 
 
 Entertainments also were not wanting, 
 for Roland one day announced to Eric : — 
 
 " Count Wolfsgarten is to give a grand 
 f<§te ; father and mother are rejoiced ; and 
 you and I are also invited.' 1 
 
 Sonnenkamp was very well satisfied with 
 Pranken for having brought this about ; 
 Eri^s cooperation was no longer of any 
 account. It was settled with Pranken, that 
 Clodwig, who was the most influential mem- 
 ber of the Committee for conferring no- 
 bility, should be gained over to favor the 
 object now exclusively occupying their 
 attention, and induced to take actively the 
 initiative. 
 
 Sonnenkamp stood before his armory, 
 and before the large money-safe built into 
 the walls ; here were many potent agencies, 
 but they were of no help in this matter, 
 where personal influence alone availed. He 
 was despondent for a short time ; then he 
 proudly drew himself up, thinking that he 
 had already succeeded in other undertak- 
 ings, and here also there would not be 
 wanting to him the requisite means. 
 
 He had a severe contest with Frau Ceres 
 on the day they were to go to the fete ; she 
 wanted to wear all her jewelry to dinner, 
 and even Fraulein Perini could not divert 
 her from her purpose, by representing how 
 irrefragably settled it was that no diamonds 
 should be worn by daylight. Frau Ceres 
 wept like a little child, and she preferred 
 to remain at home if this pleasure was be- 
 grudged her. 
 
 Sonnenkamp entreated her to dress plain- 
 ly, and not annoy the Countess by wear- 
 ing jewels worth twenty times what she 
 herself possessed ; and it was promised her, 
 that at the next fete given at the house, 
 she might appear in full costume. 
 
 But Frau Ceres persisted in saying that 
 she would not accompany them if she could 
 not wear her jewels. 
 
 "Well, then," said Sonnenkamp, "I 
 
 will send a messenger to Wolfsgarten imme- 
 diately, to inform them that you will remain 
 at home. 11 
 
 He had a groom sent for at once, and 
 gave him orders to saddle a horse, in order 
 to ride immediately to Wolfsgarten. He 
 went off. Frau Ceres 1 look followed him 
 with a very angry glance ; she was then the 
 miserable child who must remain at home, 
 when, all the rest were going to the fete. 
 After a time, she hastened to Sonnenkamp's 
 room, and announced that she would go 
 with them in the way they desired. 
 
 Sonnenkamp regretted that he had already 
 sent the messenger off, and now Frau Ceres 
 besought him, with tears, to send a second 
 messenger announcing her coming. Son- 
 nenkamp asserted that this was no longer 
 possible, but finally yielded. He went him- 
 self to the stables, and had nothing further 
 to do than to say to the groom, — 
 
 " Take off the saddle ! 11 for he had not 
 sent him away, knowing that Frau Ceres 
 would, after a while, beseech him like a 
 child. 
 
 They drove to Wolfsgarten. Frau Bella 
 was extremely glad to be able to welcome 
 the Cabinetsrathin ; she was very amiable, 
 and looked to-day lovelier than ever. 
 She had a -friendly word for everybody, 
 and she was especially gracious to Eric. 
 She thought that, at his last visit, he 
 seemed to be a little out of tune, and she 
 wished now to dissipate any such feeling 
 by exhibiting a decided preference. 
 
 Eric received the friendly attention grate- 
 fully, but very coldly, as the sharp-eyed 
 woman did not fail to perceive. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, who had quick perception, 
 held his breath as a hunter does, when the 
 game comes within range of his shot. In- 
 deed, thought he, they know how to play a 
 good game ! The reputation of this house 
 for virtue had hitherto weighed upon him 
 somewhat, but now he moved about with a 
 sort of home feeling. 
 
 It was* a little court assembled here, and 
 the etiquette, though savoring of rural 
 freedom, was not the less precise. A large 
 number of prominent personages were col- 
 lected, and the fact was the more striking, 
 because they were brought together from 
 scattered points of country life ; it was a 
 group of separate and independent indi- 
 viduals drawn hither from their retirement. 
 The larger portion were officers who had 
 retired on pensions, or been honorably dis- 
 charged from the service ; there were red, 
 yellow, and blue ribbons of different orders 
 modestly tied in the button-holes ; the 
 old gentlemen had their hair carefully 
 dressed, and their beards freshly colored ; 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 221 
 
 the ladies showed that they had sojourned at 
 Paris some weeks in the year to some pur- 
 pose. 
 
 The conversation was carried on in 
 French, out of regard to a French lady. 
 
 A celebrated musician had also been in- 
 vited, now staying at the country-house of 
 a brother-artist, who had married a former 
 music-pupil, a rich heiress, and had gained 
 a highly respectable, standing in the neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 Except Eric, Herr Sonnenkamp and the 
 musical-artist were the only untitled per- 
 sonages in the company ; his genius raised 
 the artist, and his millions the rich man, 
 into the new atmosphere. The Wine-cav- 
 alier might already be considered as one 
 of the nobility, for it was known that his 
 whole family were to be ennobled very 
 soon. The newly betrothed couple had 
 also been invited, but on the day of the fete, 
 a letter was received which contained the 
 information, couched in courteous terms of 
 regret, that the bridegroom, having been 
 taken slightly ill, was unable to be present, 
 and the bride had therefore remained at 
 home. No one of the Wine-count's family 
 made his appearance, except the Wine-cava- 
 lier, who expressed in renewed terras regret 
 for the indisposition of his future brother-in- 
 law. 
 
 A famous portrait-painter was also pres- 
 ent, who had been for several weeks at the 
 country-house of the Wine-count in order 
 to paint life-size portraits of the betrothed 
 couple. He was very much the fashion, and 
 was very successful in pearls, lace, and gray 
 satin, and also in faces, except that they 
 all had a strong tinge of blue ; but he was 
 very popular with the court, and there could 
 be no question but that he was the only man 
 to paint the distinguished bride. 
 
 The Russian Prince was, of course, a star 
 of the first magnitude. Sonnenkamp occu- 
 pied the place of honor next to Frau Bella, 
 and on the other side sat the Prince. Clod- 
 wig had Frau Ceres by his side, and the 
 Major was very naturally seated next, as 
 an efficient ally. Clodwig entertained Frau 
 Ceres in a very friendly way, and she ate 
 freely to-day, out of embarrassment, with- 
 out Sonnenkamp's intervention . 
 
 Sonnenkamp had brought into play his 
 old weapons of gallantry, but he seemed to 
 have no success, for Bella did not half list- 
 en to him, giving much of her attention to 
 the conversation of Eric with the Russian. 
 
 All at once the conversation between 
 different individuals ceased, as the Prince 
 asked Herr Sonnenkamp, — 
 
 "Do they also designate the slaves in 
 America as souls ? " 
 
 " I do not understand your meaning." 
 
 " I mean that in Russia we designate the 
 serfs as souls : a man is said to have so 
 many hundred or thousand souls ; and do 
 they call them so in America too? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "It is questioned indeed." interposed 
 Clodwig, "whether the niggers really have 
 souls. Humboldt relates that the savages 
 have the notion that apes also can speak, 
 but that they purposely refrain from doing • 
 so, because they are afraid that they also 
 shall be compelled to work if it is known 
 that they can speak." 
 
 A general laugh proceeded from the com- 
 pany at table, and Clodwig added, — 
 
 " If we dig up the smallest vessel belon- 
 ing to the Greek and Roman age, we dis- 
 cover always some sort of beauty ; but, so 
 far as I am acquainted, the niggers have 
 never embodied a single new beautiful form." 
 
 "Neither have they," interposed the 
 Prince, "as has been said, ever invented 
 even a mouse-trap ! V 
 
 " Not even that," replied Clodwig. " The 
 question comes up, whether the negroes can 
 be inheritors of civilization, for they are 
 not inheritors of the beautiful human form 
 as it has been handed down to us from 
 Egypt, Greece, and Rome, and so cannot 
 become cultivators of the plastic arts ; and 
 art alone is the ennobler of humanity. They 
 cannot create the beautiful after their like- 
 ness ; and as it is said, ' God made man af- 
 ter his image, 1 so man fashions his gods af- 
 ter his own likeness, which the negroes 
 cannot do. Perhaps in the coming time 
 they will create something for themselves, 
 but not for others ; and they are therefore 
 not partakers of the inheritance, for they 
 are not included in the great human bro- 
 therhood, which is not to be entered by 
 force." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked up ; his whole coun- 
 tenance expanded. This is the utterance 
 of a man whose love of humanity is not to 
 be questioned. 
 
 " That is a fact ! " he interposed. " There 
 is no sentimentalism in America : our plain 
 common-sense views are declared heterodox 
 indeed by pedantic wisdom, and branded 
 as inhumanity, but there is a priesthood of 
 so-called humanity ; and it has its inquisi- 
 tion as well as the other priesthood." 
 
 Sonnenkamp spoke with a concentrated 
 scorn, with a repelling violence, which clear- 
 ly showed how unsuitable he considered the 
 topic introduced by the Prince, although 
 he had done it in a most civil manner. 
 Clodwig thought that he ought to come to 
 his assistance, and he began in a low tone 
 but became more animated as he went on . 
 
222 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Whoever considers historical facts with 
 coolness and impartiality sees that the Idea 
 is continually unfolding, working long in 
 stillness, but without cessation ; and this si- 
 lent working goes on, until some unex- 
 pected fact which has nothing in common 
 with the Idea brings it into clear light and 
 perfect development. The Idea only pre- 
 pares the way by setting the tune ; the fact 
 is irrefragable, and performs an actual part. 1 ' 
 
 Bella said something in a low tone to the 
 Prince on her right, but Clodwig was well 
 aware that it was meant for an apology for 
 his somwehat heavy and abstract statement ; 
 with* a hardly perceptiblfe twinge of his face, 
 and his lips drawn somewhat pointedly to- 
 gether, he resumed : — 
 
 "I am of the conviction, that without Se- 
 bastopol the emancipation of the peasants 
 would not have been brought about, and in 
 the way it has been ; and who knows when 
 and how it could have been accomplished in 
 any other way ? Saul goes forth to-day, as 
 of old, to look for an ass, and finds a king- 
 dom, — the kingdom of a regal, all-powerful 
 Idea. The Crimean war was undertaken 
 for the purpose of humiliating Russia, and 
 it brought Russia to the measure of estab- 
 lishing a free peasantry, and renewing her- 
 self in her inner life. These are the great 
 facts of history, and they are not our doing." 
 
 " That is new to me. surprisingly new," 
 interposed the Prince, while Clodwig con- 
 tinued : — 
 
 " The Russian ambassador informed me 
 that during the Crimean war the rumor was 
 spread — no one knew its origin, and yet it 
 was in all mouths — that every one who had 
 fought at Sebastopol, or who had volunteered 
 for the war to deliver the Emperor from the 
 Allies, should have land given him as a free 
 present at its conclusion. This was a fixed 
 notion in all brains, and where did it come 
 from ? The idea of the emancipation of the 
 serfs, which had been mooted for a long time 
 in books and journals and among the higher 
 classes of the community, now took deep 
 hold of the imagination, and assumed a def- 
 inite form in the consciousness of the peo- 
 ple, becoming a fact plain as day, that re- 
 quired only the imperial decree to set its 
 seal upon it." 
 
 Clodwig stopped, as if wearied, but he 
 summoned up his strength afresh and cried : 
 
 "This is the old grand saying: 'the 
 sword6 shall be turned into ploughshares. ' " 
 
 The entire company looked at each oth- 
 er with surprise, not understanding why 
 and how Clodwig had fallen into such a 
 strain ; Eric alone gazed at Clodwig with a 
 
 beaming countenance. As a hand was 
 placed upon his shoulder, he looked round, 
 startled. Roland, standing behind him, 
 said, — 
 
 " That is exactly what you once said to 
 me." 
 
 "Sit down, and be quiet," said Eric. 
 Roland went to his seat, but he waited un- 
 til he caught Eric's eye, and then drank to 
 him. 
 
 Bella looked around, as if wanting help to 
 start some subject more befitting table-talk : 
 she looked at Eric, and nodded to him, as if 
 beseeching him to divert the conversation 
 from these detestable matters. 
 
 Just then the servants poured out some 
 Johannisberg in delicate pretty glasses, and 
 Eric said, holding the glass up before him, — 
 
 " Herr Count, such wine as this the old 
 nations never drank out of those stone jars 
 which we have dug up from the ground." 
 
 Bella nodded to him cheeringly, but as 
 he said nothing further, she asked, — 
 
 " Have we any precise information about 
 the ancient method of cultivating the vine ? " 
 
 "Very little," replied Eric. "The an- 
 cients probably had no notion of this bou- 
 quet, this spirit of the wine, for they drank 
 it only unfermented." 
 
 "Iam very far," interposed Sonnenkamp, 
 "from laying any claim to classical lore, 
 but it is very easily seen, that without the 
 cutting of the vines there can be no matur- 
 ing and full concentration of the sap in the 
 clusters ; and without the cask there can be 
 no mellow and perfectly ripe wine." 
 
 "Without the cask? Why the cask?" 
 asked the Russian. "Does the wood of 
 the cask serve to clarify the wine ? " 
 
 "I think not," answered Sonnenkamp, 
 "but the wooden cask allows the air to 
 penetrate, allows the wine to become ripe 
 in the vaults, allows it to work itself pure, 
 — in a word, to come to perfection. In ves- 
 sels of clay the wine is suffocated, or, at 
 best, experiences no change." 
 
 With great address, Bella added, — " That 
 delights me ; now I see that a progressive 
 culture contributes to higher enjoyment even 
 of the products of nature. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp was highly pleased ; he was 
 here able to add something interesting, and 
 he appeared in a very favorable light. Then 
 the conversation was carried on between 
 different individuals. 
 
 There was general cheerfulness and hil- 
 arity, and every painful impression seemed 
 to have passed away : their faces glowed, 
 and their eyes shone brightly, as the com- 
 pany arose from the table. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 223 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 •HELP YOURSELF. 
 
 The gentlemen sat by themselves in the 
 garden, taking coffee after the ladies had 
 withdrawn. 
 
 The Prince, who wanted to show manifest 
 friendliness towards Sonnenkamp, spoke. of 
 his intention to travel in America, and 
 Clodwig encouraged it, regretting that he 
 had not done so in his youth. 
 
 " I think that he who has not been in 
 America does not know what man is when 
 he gives himself the reins : life there awak- 
 ens entirely new energies in the soul, and 
 in the midst of the struggle for worldly pos- 
 sessions, each one becomes a sort of Robin- 
 son Crusoe, who must develop in himself 
 new resources. I should say that America 
 has some points of comparison with Greece : 
 in Greece the body was exhibited naked, 
 and in America the soul. This is by no 
 means the most attractive sight, but a re- 
 newal of humanity may yet be the result." 
 
 The Musician, who was about to make 
 a professional journey to America, re- 
 marked, — 
 
 "I don't see how they live in a land 
 whose soil grows no wine, and in whose 
 air sings no lark. 1 ' 
 
 "Allow me one question, Herr Count," 
 Eric now said. "It is striking that they 
 have been able to invent no new names in 
 America, but have taken from the aborig- 
 inal inhabitants, and from the immigrants 
 out of the old world, their names for rivers, 
 mountains, towns, and men ; and I would 
 here like to ask, — has the new world suc- 
 ceeded in adding a new ethical principle to 
 those already established ? " 
 
 " Certainly, 11 interposed Sonnenkamp, 
 "the best that there is going. 11 
 
 " The best ! What is it ? 11 
 
 " The two significant words, — ' Help 
 yourself. 1 11 
 
 Shaking his head, Clodwig said, — 
 
 "Strictly speaking, ' Help yourself ' is 
 not a human, but an animal principle ; for 
 every beast helps himself with all his pow- 
 ers. This maxim was only justifiable as a 
 protest against a polished and hollow con- 
 ventionalism, or against that utter abandon- 
 ment of individual effort in demanding every 
 thing from the State. ' Help yourself 1 is a 
 good motto for an immigrant, but as soon 
 as he becomes a settler, he stands in rela- 
 tions of rights and duties as regards others. 
 In the far west of America, ' Help yourself 1 
 does not apply, for there the neighbors help 
 each other a great deal. ' Help yourself 
 is of avail, at farthest, for individuals by 
 themselves, and not for those assembled 
 
 in a community : the serfs could not help 
 themselves, and the slaves have not been 
 able to help themselves. The moral law of 
 solidarity is, — ' Help thy neighbor, as thy 
 neighbor is to help thee ; and when thou 
 helpest thyself, thou helpest also others. 1 11 
 
 Here they came upon the subject so hap- 
 pily turned aside at table, but as no one 
 seemed disposed to resume it, Clodwig con- 
 tinued, — 
 
 " It would seem that every people must 
 become adopted as a citizen in the great 
 realm of history, through some idea. I be- 
 lieve that the grand calling of America is, 
 to annihilate slavery from the face of the 
 earth. But as I said before, this is the car- 
 rying out of an idea that has been for a long 
 time maturing. I should like to ask if 
 America has any new moral principle ? 11 
 
 "Perhaps the sewing-machine is a new 
 moral principle, 11 said Pranken, in his free, 
 joking manner. 
 
 They laughed. 
 
 " But there is a moral principle involved 
 in ' Help yourself, 1 11 interposed Eric. 
 "Among us Europeans, a man becomes 
 something through inheritance, or through 
 royal favor, while the American looks for 
 nothing from others, and seeks to become 
 what he can be through his own efforts, and 
 not through any foreign help. And in re- 
 spect to that belief which regards man as a 
 pack of merchandise, to be forwarded by 
 some agent to its heavenly destination, this 
 maxim, ' Help yourself, 1 is very significant. 
 Thou, man, art no coffer, well corded with 
 legal prescriptions, and sealed by the spirit- 
 ual officers of customs as having paid the 
 duty and passed inspection, but "thou art a 
 living passenger on this earth, and must look 
 out for thyself. Help yourself! Nobody 
 forwards thee to thy destination ; and we 
 Germans have a proverb that comes near 
 it in meaning : ' Each one must carry his 
 own hide to market. 1 " 
 
 "May I ask a question? 1 ' said Roland, 
 entering into the conversation. 
 
 All were surprised, especially Eric and 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " Ask it if you wish," Eric said encour- 
 agingly. 
 
 " When I heard the Herr Count speak- 
 ing of the heritage of civilization, I felt as 
 if I must ask : how do we know that we 
 are civilized ? " 
 
 The youth spoke with timidity, and Eric 
 encouraged him. 
 
 "Explain more fully what you mean by 
 that." 
 
 " Perhaps the Turks or the Chinese con- 
 sider us barbarous." 
 
 " You would have, then," Eric said, to 
 
224 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 help him on, " some unmistakable token 
 whereby a people, an age, a religion, a 
 man, can perceive whether they are in the 
 great current of universal, historical civili- 
 zation ? 11 
 
 " Yes, that is what I mean." 
 
 " Well, then, consider wherein does a cul- 
 tivated man differ from an uncultivated? " 
 
 " He differs from him in having good 
 • thoughts and clear views." 
 
 " Where does he get these ? " 
 
 " Out of himself." 
 
 "And how does he learn to sharpen 
 them, and to round them off? " 
 " By comparing them." 
 "With what?" 
 
 " With the thoughts of great men." 
 
 "And does he perceive truth in agree- 
 ment with others, or in opposition to them ? " 
 
 " In agreement with them." 
 
 " And where do those live with whom he 
 is in agreement ? " 
 
 " All around him." 
 
 " Have not others lived before .him ? " 
 " Certainly." 
 
 ' ' And can we compare our thoughts and 
 views with those men who have lived before 
 • us, or learn directly from the past ? " 
 
 4 ' Certainly ; that is what writings are 
 for." 
 
 "Good! And if now a man, or a people, 
 has a system or a culture which has no con- 
 nection with the past, with no man and no 
 • people who have gone before, what is he ? " 
 
 " No inheritor." 
 
 " I did not expect that answer, but I ac- 
 cept it ; good ! Then is a people, that 
 invents no culture, in connection with hu- 
 manity, or in a condition of isolation ?" 
 
 " Of isolation." 
 
 "This is the way it stands, then. We 
 know that we are in the centre, or ra- 
 ther in the advancing front, of a progressive 
 civilization, because we have received an in- 
 heritance from the Past, from Persians, 
 Jews, Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, and 
 we transmit it. The Turks and Chinese, 
 who are not able to do this, stand by them- 
 selves and so decline. It is not pride which 
 causes us Germans to consider ourselves in 
 the front rank of civilization, for there is 
 no nation that takes up more fully into, 
 itself, and carries on farther, the work of 
 humanity than the German, or, we will say, 
 the Germanic, for your father-land is also 
 included." 
 
 "Bravo! bravo!" cried Clodwig, as 
 they all rose. Clodwig went to Sonnen- 
 kamp and said, — 
 
 "Never was a recommendation better 
 justified than mine of the Captain to you ; 
 and you are in the right, Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 
 I have learned' something, — ' Help your- 
 self 1 is a grand new principle : it is not a 
 moral principle, but a preceptive formula. 
 See how our friend teaches your son pre- 
 eminently to help himself : this is the new 
 Socratic method." 
 
 Eric and Roland had become now the 
 central objects of the company ; and the 
 Prince, coming up to Eric and shaking 
 hands with him, said, — 
 
 " You are really a teacher !" 
 
 A messenger came from the ladies to say 
 that they would repair to the saloon, and 
 the gentlemen went there in cheerful mood. 
 The jovial Austrian officer, who had elevated 
 to the nobility the daughter of a merchant 
 in the neighboring commercial city, sang 
 some comic songs ; Pranken was prevailed 
 upon to exhibit some sleight-of-hand tricks 
 which he had learned from a juggler, and 
 he did it in capital style ; and finally, the 
 musician played some tunes upon Clodwig's 
 old violin. 
 
 Sonnenkamp embraced the favorable 
 opportunity of speaking to Clodwig, as they 
 were sitting together in a retired nook of 
 the large saloon ; he began with speaking 
 of the interest which Roland was so fortu- 
 nate as to excite in Clodwig, and he 
 very readily acknowledged how great his 
 interest was. Sonnenkamp felt his way 
 along very cautiously, and there was an 
 affecting, paternal tone in the manner in 
 which he said that he had nothing more to 
 desire in life for himself, and that his only 
 wish was to have Roland established se- 
 curely in an honorable position. Clodwig 
 said he had no doubt that he had gained, 
 and would continue to gain still further, by 
 intercourse with Eric and by his instruction, 
 a knowledge of life, and an introduction into 
 it which would make him strong in himself, 
 and insure at some time admittance into 
 the society of the nobility. 
 
 Sonnenkamp fastened upon this expres- 
 sion, " the society of the nobility ; " he had 
 not studied in vain the natural history of 
 bribery, and Clodwig must be won over by 
 being made one of the nominating commit- 
 tee, and be bribed by the payment of shares 
 in the new fancy-stock ; but Clodwig con- 
 ducted himself as if he had no idea what 
 Sonnenkamp was aiming at. Sonnenkamp 
 was so confused by this, that instead of 
 requesting directly Clodwig's aid in accom- 
 plishing his purpose, he asked his advice ; 
 Clodwig discouraged him very decidedly, 
 even saying plainly that it was not expedient 
 to unite one's self with a dying institution, 
 in which one would not feel at home. Son- 
 nenkamp expressed gratefully his sense of 
 obligation. Clodwig seized a favorable 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 225 
 
 opportunity to mingle among the guests, 
 and Sonnenkamp could not again get pos- 
 session of him. 
 
 They drove home in the bright daylight, 
 the host and hostess accompanying them a 
 part of the way. Sonnenkamp let Roland 
 take a seat with his mother and Fräulein 
 Perini, for he did not want to encounter the 
 displeasure of his wife, who had stared fre- 
 quently at Bella's splendid pearl necklace ; 
 he took Eric and the Major with him into 
 the carriage. 
 
 " This, then, is German society ! In our 
 worthy host there is a good deal of the pro- 
 fessor," said Sonnenkamp. No one made 
 any reply. 
 
 He then said in English to Eric, that he 
 deserved great praise for his tact, that in 
 the presence of Roland, who was still so 
 young, he put so reserved a face on his 
 friendship for Clodwig and his beautiful 
 wife. And he said, placing his hand on 
 Eric's shoulder, — 
 
 "Young man. I could envy you ; I know 
 very well that you will deny all, but I con- 
 gratulate you. The old gentleman is right ; 
 ' Help yourself is no moral principle." 
 
 Eric could not positively assert the 
 groundlessness of this insinuation, and he 
 felt himself severely punished, by this in- 
 ward condemnation, for having been guilty 
 even in the slightest passing thought ; and 
 it was consolatory to him to be able to say : 
 I can apply it to myself, I have tested the 
 worth of ' Help yourself.' 
 
 Sonnenkamp also had his reflections upon 
 the words, ' Help yourself,' and he was 
 vexed at them. He was now seeking to 
 attain something, and self-help could avail 
 nothing in his efforts, but he must accept the 
 help of others. He wished now to acquire 
 an elevated position, and this is a very dif- 
 ferent thing from the acquisition of money, 
 land, property, and goods ; honor proceeds 
 only from persons united by a social bond, 
 and therefore others must help; antl the 
 noblest and most influential one, whose aid 
 was essential, was reserved, and disinclined 
 to render him assistance. It did not seem 
 as if Clodwig could be won over to take his 
 part. % 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE WREATH. 
 
 Repeated distractions broke in at short 
 intervals on the course of study ; but Frau 
 Ceres was made happy by an opportunity 
 to wear all her ornaments, and Fräulein 
 Perini was happy in opening the trunk 
 which arrived from Paris ; there could not 
 be more than two such dresses in the world, 
 
 of which the Empress had one, and Frau 
 Ceres the other. 
 
 The old and highly respected family of 
 the Wine-count had until now held back 
 with unmistakable reserve from any inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the family at Villa 
 Eden, but now, after the dinner-party at 
 Wolfsgarten, Sonnenkamp received an in- 
 vitation to the wedding festival of their 
 daughter and the son of the Court Marshal. 
 
 Eric had great difficulty in restraining 
 his pupil from talking constantly about this 
 great fete, for Roland had heard of the 
 fireworks which were to be sent up from 
 the Rhine and the wooded hills around, and 
 every morning he said, "I do hope the 
 weather will continue pleasant ; it will be 
 such a pity if it doesn't." He was often 
 away with Pranken for several hours at a 
 time, and returned very much excited, evi- 
 dently keeping some secret from Eric, who 
 did not ask any questions. 
 
 On the day of the fete, the General with 
 whom the family had become acquainted in 
 the capital arrived. 
 
 It was mid-day when they started, in three 
 carriages, for the house of the* Wine-count. 
 Frau Ceres occupied one carriage with the 
 General. She seemed to swim in a stream 
 of drapery, so full and spreading were the 
 folds of her dress. In the second and open 
 carriage rode Sonnenkamp with Fräulein 
 Perini and Pranken, in full uniform and 
 wearing two orders. He accompanied them 
 in order to make his appearance as a mem- 
 ber of Sonnenkamp's family. Sonnenkamp 
 said nothing, but his face showed how grate- 
 ful he was to the young man, who had not 
 only brought him the General as a guest, 
 but was taking upon himself his introduc- 
 tion to the assemblage. In the third car- 
 riage sat Roland with Eric, who did very 
 wrong, Roland thought, not to wear his 
 uniform also. 
 
 A long line of carriages waited before the 
 door of the Wine-count's villa, which stood 
 broad and stately, on the high road, with 
 well-arranged, shady grounds on each side. 
 The General gave Frau Ceres his arm, and 
 they were shown, by servants in rich livery, 
 to the garden, through paths bordered with 
 carefully-tended, fragrant flowers. At the 
 foot of the garden steps the Wine-count met 
 them, and begged the General to resign Frau 
 Ceres to his care. Various groups were 
 walking about the garden, or sitting on the 
 pleasant grass-plots. 
 
 The Wine-count's wife, a tall, stout wo- 
 man, had not heard in vain that she looked 
 like the Empress Maria Theresa. She was 
 dressed to-day quite in her imperial style, 
 and wore a splendid diadem of brilliants. 
 
226 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was presented to the bridal 
 pair. The bridegroom looked very weary, 
 but the bride, with her wreath of roses, 
 very animated ; much regret was expressed 
 that Manna was not with the familv at the 
 fete. 
 
 The Court Marshal expressed his pleas- 
 ure at meeting Herr Sonnenkamp again, and 
 at making the acquaintance of his wife and 
 of his handsome son, of whom he had heard 
 so much. A glow was thrown over the 
 whole evening, when he said rather loudly, 
 with evident intention, that Sonnenkamp 
 had been most honorably mentioned at the 
 Prince's table, on the preceding day. 
 Frau Ceres, still wearing her white cape 
 over her richly ornamented dress, was seat- 
 ed next the Court marshal. 
 
 The Wine-chevalier, wearing several 
 orders, was moving about among the com- 
 pany. He was a man of good manners, 
 having been in constant intercourse with all 
 the aristocracy of Europe. In the time of 
 Napoleon, when he was a jovial travelling 
 agent for his father's firm, he had been em- 
 ployed by the wary Metternich on several 
 missions, which he had carried through with 
 much skill. There was scarcely a French 
 General whom he had not known, and he 
 had even conversed twice with Napoleon 
 himself. 
 
 The Wine-count had three sons and three 
 daughters ; the oldest daughter was already 
 married to an officer of noble family. Of 
 the three sons, one had disappeared in 
 America, after having squandered large 
 sums of money for his father ; the second 
 was a member of a theatre orchestra in a 
 capital of middle Germany, and it was said 
 he had written to his father that, for his 
 part, he would not be ennobled. The third j 
 and oldest son was the Wine-chevalier, who | 
 had striven very eagerly for the honor of I 
 nobility, and was very happy in his success. I 
 
 The Wine-count was most cordial in his I 
 manner ; there was a remarkable elasticity [ 
 in the movements of the slender, white-haired J 
 old man. He went from guest to guest, 
 with an appropriate friendly word for each, 
 and on all sides received doubLe congratu- 
 lations, for on this very day the Prince had 
 ennobled him. He expressed his thanks 
 very modestly, for he could assure himself 
 that he might have attained this honor two 
 years before, but at that time there was a 
 certain patriotic vertigo abroad which had 
 seized even a wine-grower. He answered 
 all the congratulations by saying that the 
 Prince's great kindness made him extreme- 
 ly happy. 
 
 Sonnenkamp kept smiling to himself, 
 looking forward to the time when he would 
 
 thus be courted also, and he prepared to 
 receive the homage with modest thankful 
 ncss. 
 
 Frau Ceres sat in much discomfort nexl 
 the Court Marshal, who left her to her own 
 thoughts when he found that no conversa- 
 tion could be kept up. At last a pleasure 
 came to her when the Cabinet minister's 
 lady arrived, and expressed great pleasure 
 at meeting her, as the Court Marshal gave 
 his seat to her. 
 
 Still greater was Frau Ceres' happiness 
 when Frau Bella also came up ; even in this 
 circle, where there were many of her equals, 
 she seemed to take a leading position. She 
 was very gracious to Frau Ceres, and beg- 
 ged her to take her arm to go into the gar- 
 den-saloon, where the rich outfit of the bride 
 was exhibited ; there was a universal ex- 
 pression of admiration, and some glances of 
 envy from those who returned from its ex- 
 amination. 
 
 Frau Ceres managed her long train very 
 awkwardly,, while Bella held hers up grace- 
 fully, and moved as if she were sailing 
 through light clouds. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was greeted by the Russian 
 Prince in a most friendly manner, and de- 
 lighted at his shaking hands with him ; but 
 his pleasure was soon strewn with ashes, 
 as the Prince said, — 
 
 " I forgot that you were to tell me some 
 particulars of the treatment of the slaves ; 
 I'm afraid I shall not find any of them left, 
 when I make up my mind to visit America." 
 
 He soon turned away, as the General was 
 introduced to him. Sonnenkamp began to 
 feel somewhat strange and neglected in the 
 circle, but his countenance brightened as 
 he saw Bella and Frau Ceres walking to- 
 gether so confidentially. 
 
 " You have hardly spoken to the Count- 
 ess," he said to Eric. 
 
 " Ah, I'm thinking of something quite 
 different," answered Eric. "I should like to 
 hear our new Baron tell his servants : John, 
 Peter, Michael, from this day you must ad- 
 dress me as Gracious Herr, or Herr Baron. 
 He must appear ridiculous to himself." 
 
 "Perhaps Doctor is a finer title," re- 
 plied Sonnenkamp sharply; "oris that 
 born with a person?" 
 
 Eric's remark irritated him, and he would 
 have been glad to send him out of the com- 
 pany. But he suddenly became more ami- 
 able, as Bella approaehed and said to him, 
 
 " Do you know, Herr Sonnenkamp, what 
 we are all really here for, and what this 
 whole fete means ? It is a christening feast, 
 and our gracious Prince has played off a 
 good joke. The Wine-dealer has striven for 
 nobility so long, at last offering up his 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 227 
 
 daughter as a sacrificial lamb, that the 
 Priuce could not help granting it to him at 
 last. And isn't it good that he has given 
 him the name Herr von Endlich ? (At Last.) 
 
 Then in a very amusing way she went on 
 to describe how fine it would be if so old 
 a candidate for baptism suddenly cried, I 
 don't want that name, I want another. 
 
 Turning to Eric, she sketched the whole 
 assemblage for him with apt, though some- 
 what malicious strokes. She ridiculed with 
 most sarcasm a knot of young girls, who 
 evidently could not forget the heavy weight 
 of hair upon their heads, for the hair-dres- 
 sers from the Baths and the Fortress had 
 been hurrying, since early morning, from 
 house to house, to deck out the girls 1 heads 
 in proper company style. Bella mimicked 
 the girls as they said to each other, " Please 
 tell me if my chignon is still on." 
 
 With much merriment she pointed out a 
 tall, lank Englishman, coming in sight 
 with his stout wife and three slim daughters, 
 who wore long curls and extraordinarily 
 brilliant dresses. He lived in winter at the 
 capital, in the summer at a country-seat, 
 passing the time in angling, while his daugh- 
 ters were constantly drawing. He was con- 
 sidered very rich, and his wealth had a sin- 
 gular source ; many years before, a brother 
 of his wife had been sent to Botany Bay, 
 and, being an experienced trader, had 
 there succeeded in establishing a large ex- 
 port business, and laid the foundation of 
 the family wealth. 
 
 Bella was full of charming humor, and 
 Eric felt as if he had done her injustice. He 
 had listened to the sharp judgment, the 
 mental dissection, of Bella from the physi- 
 cian, when he ought to have contested it de- 
 cidedly. He looked at her as if asking par- 
 don for something, and she, well satisfied, 
 showed a fresh cheerfulness, which was not 
 wanting in magic power. She treated Eric 
 with marked attention before the whole 
 company. 
 
 Count Clodwig joined the group, and' re- 
 marked that he was always surprised anew 
 to see how many odd characters settled here 
 on the banks of the Rhine. The Major 
 stood apart and looked at Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp, as if he would say : I beg you, don't 
 do this too ; stay with us. It would be pleas- 
 anter to me than to give her the prettiest 
 bon-bons which I shall carry home, to be 
 able to say to Fräulein Milch, What they 
 say about Herr Sonnenkamp isn't true ! For 
 again had Fräulein Milch penetrated the 
 well-guarded mystery. 
 
 Eric pitied, the Major, who looked unusu- 
 ally dull, and he succeeded in getting at the 
 cause of his low spirits, for the Major said, 
 
 "It's just as if a Christian were to turn 
 Turk ! . Ah, you may laugh, but Fräulein 
 Milch is right. All that beautiful money, 
 which has been earned with so much trouble, 
 is now to be thrown away on the nobles, and 
 we commoners may stand aside, and never 
 have any more notice taken of us." 
 
 Eric silently pressed the Major's hand, 
 and the latter asked : — 
 
 "But where's Roland?" 
 
 Indeed, where was Roland ? He had 
 vanished soon after their arrival, and was 
 nowhere to be seen. The evening came on 
 gradually, and wonderfully beautiful music 
 from wind instruments was heard in the 
 thick shrubbery ; for a while, the guests in 
 the garden were silent, and then it seemed 
 as if the music made them only the more 
 talkative. Eric looked for Roland, but no 
 one could tell him anything of him. 
 
 The music ceased, and darkness gath- 
 ered. On the balcony of the house ap- 
 peared a trumpeter, in a costume of the 
 middle ages, and sounded a call ; the com- 
 pany repaired to the house, up the' steps 
 to the great hall and the adjoining rooms. 
 Here a few seats were placed ; in the fore- 
 ground, two great arm-chairs, dressed with 
 flowers, for the bride and bridegroom ; be- 
 hind them, a line of chairs for the oldest and 
 most distinguished guests. 
 
 Frau Ceres was conducted to a seat -near 
 Bella ; Fräulein Perini had managed very 
 adroitly to get near her and pull gently at 
 her cloak. Frau Ceres understood, and all 
 eyes, which had been resting on the bridal 
 pair, now turned to her. Such ornaments, 
 imitating a wreath of wheat-ears of which 
 each grain was a great diamond, such a 
 dress, sown thick with pearls and diamonds, 
 were never before seen ; a long-continued 
 murmur of applause ran through the assem- 
 bly. 
 
 Frau Ceres stood by her chair, as if 
 rooted to the spot, till Bella begged her to 
 sit down ; she looked smilingly at the splen- 
 did jewels : it was all very well for the 
 American woman to put those on, but she 
 couldn't put on such a neck and arms as her 
 own. 
 
 Now it appeared that one of the walls of 
 the room was only a curtain, which was pres- 
 ently drawn up. Vine-dressers were dis- 
 covered, who sang and spoke praises of 
 the family, and finally presented a myrtle 
 crown. 
 
 The curtain fell amidst the expressions 
 of delight of the whole company, and as 
 they were about to rise, a voice behind the 
 curtain cried : — 
 
 " Remain seated ! " 
 
 The curtain rose again, and, behind a 
 
228 
 
 THE COUNTRY-nOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 thin gauze, Apollo was seen among shep- 
 herds and vine-dressers, and Apollo was 
 Roland ; the curtain had to be twice raised 
 again, for all were enraptured with the tab- 
 leau, and especially with Roland's god-like 
 appearance. Bella nodded exultantly to 
 Eric, who was standing apart ; but he felt 
 as if benumbed, as he asked himself 
 what effect all this would have on Roland, 
 and how Roland could have concealed it 
 from him. It was not long before Roland 
 joined the company in his ordinary dress ; he 
 was admired and praised on all sides, and 
 nearly taken off his feet. 
 
 Fran Cares was congratulated almost 
 more than Roland, on her happiness in hav- 
 ing a son of such divine beauty ; repeated 
 regrets were expressed that her daughter 
 was not at the fete. Frau Ceres received 
 all this most amiably, saying constantly : 
 " I thank you most sincerely, you are very 
 kind." Fräulein Perini had taught her her 
 lesson. 
 
 New rooms were opened, where tables 
 were spread, and the guests seated them- 
 selves. 
 
 Roland went to Eric. 
 
 " Are you the only one to say nothing to 
 me ? " he asked. 
 
 Eric was silent. 
 
 " Ah," Roland continued, " it has cost me 
 much trouble to conceal anything from you, 
 
 and still more to be attentive for these last 
 few days, but I wanted to surprise you." 
 
 Eric recovered himself, and decided that 
 it would be best not to lay much stress on 
 the matter, so that it might be less likely to 
 have any hurtful effect ; he only warned Ro- 
 land to be careful not to take too much 
 wine. The boy was so full of happiness 
 that he preferred to sit near Eric, to show 
 him that he was moderate, rather than to 
 take a seat which was reserved for him at 
 the table of the bride. 
 
 Pranken, who, with the portrait painter's 
 aid, had arranged the tableau, was in a 
 state of singular excitement this evening, 
 for the idea kept ringing in his head that he 
 might have married the Wine-count's beau- 
 tiful daughter ; here was new- varnished no- 
 bility, to be sure, but everything was made 
 sure of; here would be now an attractive 
 widow, or, better still, an attractive unhap- 
 py wife. He drove the thoughts away, 
 however, saying to himself that he loved 
 Manna. 
 
 As a former comrade of the bridegroom, 
 and as friend of the family, Pranken pro- 
 posed the toast to the bridal pair ; he spoke 
 well, and in a humorous tone, as was best, 
 and the company were well pleased. 
 
 The discharge of a cannon gave notice 
 that the fireworks were beginning, and the 
 guests betook themselves to the veranda and 
 the garden. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 FIREWORKS AND THEN DARKNESS. 
 
 Bella suddenly stood by Eric's side, with- 
 out bis noticing her approach. 
 
 " You are unusually grave to-day," she 
 said in a low voice. 
 
 "Iam not used to the confusion of such 
 a fete." 
 
 "I always feel as if you would have 
 something to say to me," she murmured 
 lower. 
 
 Eric was silent, and Bella continued : — 
 
 " Does it seem to you as it does to me, 
 when you see your nearest friend in a great 
 assembly, as if you met in a strange land, 
 or as if struggling in a river, in which you 
 are drowning ? " 
 
 . " Ah ! Bravo ! " many voices cried sud- 
 denly. A flight of rockets was sent off, 
 while music was heard, and a trumpet across 
 the river took up the strain, and echoed it. 
 Far away they saw the people from the 
 towns and villages about, standing on the 
 river-banks, their faces lighted by the glare. 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Bella, as all was dark 
 again, "Ave are all nothing but slaves! 
 If we could live like that, that would be life 
 indeed ! to burn like that rocket in the free 
 air, then come, darkness and death ; ye are 
 welcome!" 
 
 Eric trembled ; he did not know how it 
 happened, but he was holding Bella's hand 
 fast in his. 
 
 Again bright fires rose frtjm river and 
 hills. It seemed as if all those people who 
 were looking on from the distant shore 
 must have seen Eric's hand in Bella's. Eric 
 drew back with a start. The Prince came 
 up, and Bella immediately took his arm. j 
 Eric was left alone, and as he saw Bella 
 walking up and down the road before the 
 house, leaning on the Prince's arm, he tried 
 to recollect whether he had not said to her, 
 I love you. It seemed to him that he had 
 spoken aloud, and yet it could not be. Fire- 
 wheels, ihe monogram of the bridal-pair, 
 Roman-candles, were exhibited, and at last 
 from a boat on the Rhine rose a great golden 
 wine-flask, which burst in the air, and scat- 
 tered a shower of sparkling drops of light. I 
 Music resounded, and from the shore a ' 
 shout was heard, as if all the waves had 
 found a voice. 
 
 Eric's brain reeled ; he knew not where 
 he was, nor who he was. Suddenly he felt 
 an arm laid on his own : it was Clodwig. 
 Eric would have liked to kneel before him, 
 but he felt unworthy to utter a word, and 
 he could only make an inward vow : I will 
 send a bullet through my heart, rather than 
 
 allow it ever again to thrill with this excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Clodwig spoke of Roland, saying that he 
 could not think it right or wise that he 
 should be thrust into a sphere strange to 
 him. Eric answered at random ; Clodwig 
 believed that he must know of the project, 
 while Eric thought he was alluding to the 
 military profession ; and he seemed so dis- 
 tracted and inwardly excited, that Clodwig 
 admonished his young friend to exert him- 
 self less strenuously, and not to torment 
 himself needlessly. 
 
 Eric avoided saying good-night to Bella. 
 
 It was late when they drove back, in the 
 same manner as they had come, except that 
 the Cabinetsrath and his wife accompanied 
 them, to spend the night at Villa Eden. 
 
 The Minister rode with Sonnenkamp, and 
 the conversation naturally fell on the fete, 
 and on the dissolution of the old and re- 
 spected firm of wine dealers, since Ijhe 
 Wine-count was now about to sell at auction 
 his whole stock. The Ministers lady said 
 that Bella had told her that she intended to 
 write Eric's mother and aunt for a visit; 
 Pranken pretended to know of this plan, but 
 was inwardly very much surprised. Now 
 that they were alone and need not be reserved 
 with each other, the Minister's lady said 
 emphatically, that no one could bring about 
 the conferring of the new dignity on Herr 
 Sonnenkamp more easily and simply than 
 the Professor's widow. It was not exactly 
 decided upon, but it was hinted to Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, that he might establish the 
 first claim of hospitality by inviting the la- 
 dies to Villa Eden. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled to himself, for he had 
 a further plan of making Frau Dournay use- 
 ful : the General had said several times that 
 she was a trusted friend of his sister, the 
 Superior of the island convent ; here were 
 two wires to be pulled. 
 
 In the third carriage Eric rode again with 
 Roland ; they sat silent for a long time, as 
 the carriage rolled slowly on. At last a 
 voice called out : — 
 
 " Good evening, Herr Captain ! " 
 
 Eric ordered the driver to stop ; it was 
 Claus's son, the cooper, who was walking 
 along the wood. He brought Eric a greet- 
 ing from Martin Knopf at Mattenheim, and 
 said that he had been there with a message 
 from his father, asking Knopf to appear be- 
 fore the jury the next day, as a witness in 
 his defence. Roland rubbed his eyes, and 
 looked about him as if he were in a strange 
 world. He asked the cooper to get into the 
 carriage with them. The cooper thanked 
 him, but declined, and went on to say how 
 wonderful it had been, as he came over the 
 
230 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOIJSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 hills from Mattenheim, to see, just as he left 
 the woods, the strange fires mounting to 
 heaven from the Rhine far-below, and he had 
 stood just where the roeks eehoedthe cannon. 
 He held out his hand to Eric, but not to 
 Roland. 
 
 As the two drove on again, Roland said : 
 "Then Claus has heard the cannon in 
 his prison, and perhaps he saw the fire- 
 works too. Ah, he has not a single dog to 
 speak to near him. IVe often been sorry 
 that he had to wander about so constantly 
 through the fields by'day and night, but now 
 he must long for that old weariness. And 
 while he sits there in prison, everything is 
 growing outside, and the thieves of hares 
 and foxes know, that no one knows their 
 burrows so well as he : and I do believe he 
 is innocent. Ah, why must there be poor, 
 unhappy men ; why can't the whole world be 
 happy ? " 
 
 For the first time, Eric saw that he must 
 advise Roland not to say anything to his 
 father of these thoughts about the huntsman, 
 and about the poor and unfortunate. 
 
 Eric felt quite satisfied that all the praise 
 Roland had received for his appearance as 
 Apollo had done no harm. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A REPRESSED HEART. 
 
 " "What are we, when judged by our most 
 secret thoughts ? " 
 
 So had Eric written in answer to a dainty 
 note which Bella had written to him. She 
 had requested him to send the coat in which 
 she had painted him, as something peculiar 
 in its cut had yet to be introduced, in order 
 to give the finishing touch to the portrait. 
 The way in which she had signed her name 
 startled Eric ; there was her name, Bella, 
 but instead of her surname, an interroga- 
 tion point between two brackets. She had 
 scratched this out, as if thinking better of 
 it, but it was still to be perceived. 
 
 She put the coat upon the lay-figure in 
 her studio ; it affected her strangely, and she 
 stood there now, with her hand placed upon 
 the shoulder of the figure. 
 
 " What are we, judged by our most secret 
 thoughts ? 11 had Eric written, and it seemed 
 now as if the words came from the mouth 
 of the model before her. 
 
 Bella shuddered, and was seized with a 
 deadly trembling, for as she stood there 
 with her gaze fastened upon the floor, and 
 her hand laid upon the garment of the man 
 not her husband, it seemed to her as if she 
 should sink to the earth. At this instant, 
 her whole life unfolded itself to her view. 
 
 The days of childhood — there was no 
 
 definite image of these. The teachers 
 praised her quick comprehension ; a French 
 bonne was dismissed, and a strict English 
 governess received into the family ; Bella 
 learned languages easily, and good manners 
 seemed natural to her. Her smart repar- 
 tees, when she was very young, were re- 
 peated admiringly, and this flattered her 
 vanity, and extinguished all childish ingen- 
 uousness. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen visiting the house, 
 or meeting her casually in different places, 
 praised her beauty in her hearing. She was 
 confirmed, but the holy ceremony appeared 
 to her only as the sign of her deliverance 
 from the nursery, when she must lay aside 
 her short dresses and put on long ones ; 
 and when going up to the altar, the thought 
 which predominated in her was, Thou art 
 the fairest one. As the bishop had taken 
 tea the evening before with her parents, he 
 was not to her a supernatural being as to 
 the rest, for he had spoken familiarly with 
 her, and she appeared to herself to be, in 
 the church, the central point of all observa- 
 tion. 
 
 Her father yielded to her wishes, and 
 Bella, at fourteen years of age, was intro- 
 duced the next winter into society. She 
 made a brilliant appearance, and was much 
 courted ; everybody spoke with admiration 
 of the air of fresh youth that hovered around 
 her. But she early exhibited a sort of cold- 
 ness, so that 6he was nicknamed the mer- 
 maiden, and in her eye there was what 
 might be called a cold fire. Even the reign- 
 ing Prince singled her out. She still kept 
 the engagement-card of her first court-ball 
 as a sacred relic, and with it a withered 
 bouquet. 
 
 Now followed an unbroken chain of hom- 
 age and attention. Bella, with her ready 
 and apt replies, was the life of the circle in 
 which she moved. While yet a child, her 
 beauty had been praised in her own hearing, 
 and now that she was a woman, her remark- 
 able mental powers were extolled, either 
 directly or indirectly, so that she was sure 
 to be informed .of it. Her striking remarks 
 and keen criticisms were quoted, and her 
 witticisms passed around. In this way she 
 had acquired the reputation of great knowl- 
 edge, which, with her spirited piano playing, 
 and above all, her skill in painting, caused 
 her to be regarded as a social wonder, and 
 to be held up as a pattern to many a young 
 girl who came out after her in society. 
 
 Before she was sixteen, she had refused 
 many offers of marriage, and she smiled 
 when she heard of the betrothal of one and 
 another, for she could say, You could have 
 married this man, if you had wished to. 
 
THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 231 
 
 Her mother would have been glad to have 
 her married young, but her father was not 
 willing that his child should be separated 
 from him so early; he hoped that some 
 prince of the collateral branch would unite 
 himself with her in marriage. 
 
 Her seventeenth birthday was ushered 
 in by a morning serenade from the band of 
 the Guards, and congratulations poured in 
 from all sides ; but if she could have been 
 seen then, as the tones of the music awak- 
 ened her from sleep, and a new thought 
 stirred within her, her large eyes would 
 have presented a look different from any 
 ever seen in them before. The thought was, 
 I have no belief in love. All this singing and 
 talking of the power of love is nonsensical 
 romance ! Her mother's teaching had con- 
 tributed not a little to produce this convic- 
 tion ; she had early uprooted the influences 
 of love, perpetually representing to her 
 daughter that the main thing was, to make 
 a brilliant match ; and Bella, in fact, had 
 never loved any one, for she insisted upon 
 the submission of him towards whom she 
 felt any preference. From one of her 
 mother's cousins she heard suggestions of 
 an opposite nature ; she frequently said, half 
 satirically and half seriously, that the only 
 right love was that directed towards a man 
 of a lower condition. If you should love 
 the artist in whose studio you work, or your 
 teacher of music or of language, that would 
 be genuine love. But it seemed to Bella 
 as if any special attachment to a 'teacher was 
 like entertaining a love for a livery-servant, 
 or even for a being of a different species, 
 and choosing him for a husband. 
 
 On that seventeenth birthday, there was 
 perceptible, for the first time, that cold, 
 glassy, Medusa-look, which regarded men 
 with indilference, as if they were nothing 
 but shadows ; but no one remarked it, and 
 it seemed as if on that day something was 
 paralyzed within her which would never 
 again feel the stirrings of life. 
 
 Before she was twenty, after the year of 
 mourning for her father had elapsed, with 
 feelings already cold and benumbed, Bella 
 withdrew from society, entering it only oc- 
 casionally, as if she were performing a bur- 
 densome duty. She studied, she painted, she 
 practised music, she occupied herself with 
 artists, scholars, and statesmen ; and she 
 wore a constant rigidity of countenance and 
 look, except when she was flinging around 
 her criticisms, which always produced a 
 greater impression from the fact that her 
 deep, masculine voice was in striking con- 
 trast with her feminine appearance. 
 
 It created considerable excitement, when 
 it was understood that Bella had removed 
 
 the opposition of her parents to her younger 
 sister's marrying before her. Bella stood 
 before the altar by the side of her sister, 
 and through her sister's bridal veil she saw 
 the dark brown eye of the Adjutant Gener- 
 al, who had been recently made a widower, 
 fixed upon herself. She moved her lips 
 slightly, saying to herself with self-rejoicing 
 pride, You will woo me in vain. She took 
 delight in wounding, disturbing, break- 
 ing hearts, by turns enticing and then re- 
 pelling them. She had said to her father, 
 I should be glad to marry, if one can like 
 to do what one cannot bring his mind to do ; 
 but to stand up before the altar and say 
 
 yes, for life and for death! 1 was 
 
 frightened when I heard my sister say that, 
 and I thought that I must cry out, "No! 
 No ! No ! " And I do not answer for my- 
 self, that I should not involuntarily say no. 
 
 She proffered herself as companion of an 
 invalid princess, who was ordered to re- 
 side for a year at Madeira ; on returning, 
 after the death of the princess at the island, 
 Bella smiled when she was told of the Ad- 
 jutant General's marriage. She could not 
 complain that suitors gradually grew fewer 
 in number, but still she was vexed at it. 
 
 She took nöw a journey with two English 
 ladies to Italy and Greece, with Lootz for 
 her courier. She spent a whole winter at 
 Constantinople, and the malicious tongues 
 at the capital said, that she was after a man 
 of exalted position, and that everything else 
 was a matter of indifference to her ; that she 
 would marry a gray-bearded Pacha. On 
 her return Bella generally appeared dressed 
 in satin. 
 
 Then came Clodwig's suit ; and, to the 
 great surprise of the whole "^capital, the be- 
 trothal and the wedding took place within 
 four weeks of each other. Bella retired 
 with her husband to Wolfsgarten, not es- 
 sentially changed by marriage, and without 
 gaining that full development of the nature 
 it gives to woman. .What was there still to 
 be developed? She was accomplished, and 
 she was specially happy, so far as happiness 
 was possible to her, in perceiving — what 
 she had not looked for, although she hoped 
 to find it — Clodwig's nobility of soul. 
 
 For the first time, she felt humble and 
 modest ; her life was peaceful and retired, 
 and the days flowed on in uniform round. 
 Clodwig was as attentive, as sympathizing, 
 and as full of devotion as at first ; a com- 
 posure and a steadfastness, such as is as- 
 signed only to the gods, was the prevailing 
 characteristic of his spirit. He was person- 
 ally considerate and tender, to an extreme 
 degree ; and he exhibited his vehement na- 
 ture, which found vent in the strongest ex- 
 
232 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 pressions, only when dwelling upon mat- 
 ters of universal interest. Bella recognized 
 in this only a justifiable excitement, for 
 Clodwig's active life had been passed in a 
 petty, crippled period, and wasted in the 
 trifling affairs of a liliputian Principality, 
 while he himself was fitted for grander and 
 more universal affairs. 
 
 Clodwig often reproached himself for the 
 firm confidence that he had entertained dur- 
 ing his whole life, that the Idea would, of 
 itself, become realized ; and he now saw, 
 when it was too late, that one must plunge 
 headlong into the current of cooperating in- 
 fluences. As soon as he went again among 
 men, and especially when he entered the 
 court-circle, he was always gentle and in- 
 dulgent. He was full of admiration of his 
 wife's talents, and if at any time he moder- 
 ately criticized and set forth her superficial 
 and external mode of looking at things, she 
 was for an instant inwardly disturbed ; but 
 when she looked upon the noble, refined 
 form of the old man, all frowardness van- 
 ished. She was happy to see herself, and to 
 make the world see, how she could cherish 
 a great and good man. She knew that she 
 would be watched ; and the world should 
 never have occasion to remark invidiously 
 upon her conduct. 
 
 All at once there had now entered this 
 peaceful circle a man who disposed of her, 
 her husband, and the whole house, without 
 effort and with irresistible power ; and she 
 had been opposed to him at first, had ex- 
 pressed that opposition to Clodwig, and 
 "had zealously labored against his becoming 
 established in the neighborhood. But as 
 Clodwig had brought into prominent notice, 
 with an enthusiastic kindness of heart, the 
 sterling traits of this man's character, had 
 even drawn him towards herself against her 
 will, she resigned herself to the pleasure of 
 this enlivening intercourse. 
 
 Thus stood Bella before the portrait to 
 which she still delayed to put the finishing 
 touch, inwardly chafing, and thoroughly 
 vexed with herself. She, the mature in ex- 
 perience, to be the subject of such a girl- 
 ish infatuation! " girlish infatuation," she 
 called it, and yet she could not free herself 
 from it. Was it because her self-love was* 
 wounded ; was it because, for the first time, 
 she had stretched out her hand and it was 
 not taken ? 
 
 Her large eyes sparkled, and whoever 
 had beheld her now would have seen the 
 Medusa-look. 
 
 She left the ' studio with all speed, and 
 went to her dressing-room. She stood there 
 before the large mirror, and let down her 
 luxuriant hair, staring into the mirror, 
 
 while upon Tier closely pressed lips lay the 
 question, Art thou then so old ? She 
 opened her lips, like one ill with fever, like 
 one parched with thirst, panting to drink. 
 Her eyes beamed with a joyous brightness, 
 as she said to herself : Thou art beautiful. 
 Thou art able to judge of thyself as impar- 
 tially as thou wouldest a stranger. But 
 what means this silly infatuation ? 
 
 She took the long tresses of her hair in 
 both hands, and held them crossed under 
 her chin ; she was terrified as she now per- 
 ceived, for the first time, how strong a like- 
 ness she bore to the bust of Medusa in the 
 guest-chamber above. 
 
 "Yes, I will be Medusa! He shall be 
 shattered, turned into stone, annihilated ! 
 He shall kneel to me, and then I will tram- 
 ple him under my feet ! " 
 
 She raised her foot, but immediately cov- 
 ered her face with both hands, while tears 
 flowed from her eyes. 
 
 "Forgive, forgive my pride, my mad- 
 ness ! 11 was the cry uttered within her. 
 Fierce irritation and passionate emotion, 
 pride and humility, contended together 
 within her breast, and it seemed as if the 
 chill of that morning serenade had been all 
 at once removed, and the heart had unfolded 
 itself, as some long-closed calyx unfolds its 
 petals. A longing sprang up within her — 
 a longing for home, as in some wayward 
 child who has run away from its parents 
 into the woods — a longing for some place 
 of shelter and rest, — a home : where is it ? 
 where ? 
 
 She yearned for a soul to which she could 
 lay open all her own soul. 
 
 " Forgive me ! forgive ! " was echoed and 
 re-echoed within her. At first it was di- 
 rected to Clodwig, and now to Eric. 
 
 " Forgive ! forgive my pride ! But thou 
 canst not know how proud I have been : 
 and I sacrificed to thee more than a thou- 
 sand others, more than the whole world, can 
 even conceive and comprehend. 1 ' 
 
 She shuddered at- being alone, rang for 
 her dressing-maid, and made an elaborate 
 toilet. 
 
 " Tell me how old I am. Do you not 
 know ? " she suddenly asked. 
 
 The dressing-maid was startled at the 
 question, and not returning an immediate 
 answer, Bella continued : — 
 
 " I have never been young." 
 
 " O my gracious lady, you are still young, 
 and you never looked better than you do 
 now." 
 
 " Do you think so?" said Bella, throw- 
 ing back her head, for a voice within her 
 said : Why shouldest thou not be also young 
 for once ? Thou art ! Thou art what thou 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 233 
 
 canst not help being ; and let the world be 
 what it must be too. 
 
 Leaving the house, she went around the 
 garden, seeming to herself to be a captive. 
 Unconsciously she went into the room on 
 the ground-floor, and as she stood near the 
 unearthed antiquities, a voice within her 
 said : — 
 
 " What are all these ? What are these 
 vessels ? Lava-ashes ! all ashes ! What is 
 all this antiquarian rummaging? What is 
 the use of this picking up of old buried 
 trash, this perpetual thinking and talking 
 about humanity and progress ? all foreign, 
 dead, a conversation over a death-bed ; 
 nothing but distraction, forgetfulness ; no 
 life, no hope, no future ; never towards the 
 day, always towards the night, — the night of 
 the past, and the ideal of humanity. But 
 I am not the past, I am not an ideal of hu- 
 manity. I am the to-day, I will be the to- 
 day. Ah me, where am I ! " 
 
 •She went into the garden, and watched 
 two butterflies hovering hither and thither 
 in the air, now alighting upon the flowers, 
 now coming together, separating again, and 
 again uniting. 
 
 " This is life ! " was the cry within her. 
 " This is life ! they grub up no ancient rel- 
 ics, they live 1 with no antiquities." 
 
 Then came a swallow darting down, 
 seized one of the butterflies, and vanished. 
 
 What is thy life to thee now, thou poor 
 butterfly ? 
 
 Below, over the Rhine, clouds of smoke 
 from the steamboats were floating in the 
 air, and Bella thought : — 
 
 " If one could only thus fly away ! What 
 do we here ? AVe heat with our blood this 
 dead earth, so that it may have some little 
 life. Our life-breath is nothing but a puff 
 of vapor that mingles with thousands of 
 other vaporous films ; this we call life, and 
 it vanishes like the thousands " 
 
 The children of the laborers upon the 
 estate, coming out of school, saluted the 
 gracious lady. 
 
 Bella stared at them. What becomes of 
 these children ? What is the use of this 
 fatuous renewing of humanity ? 
 t As if to conceal herself from herself, she 
 buried her face in a flowering shrub. She 
 left the park ; she saw in the court outside 
 the dove cooing about his mate. The beau- 
 tiful mate was so coy, picked up its food so 
 quietly, hardly paying any attention to the 
 tender gurgling, and then flew away to the 
 house-top, where she trimmed her feathers. 
 The dove flew after his mate, but she shook 
 her head again and took flight. 
 
 Then as Bella was gazing with a fixed 
 look, she saw a servant yoking some oxen. 
 
 He first placed a pad upon the head of the 
 beast, and over that a wooden yoke. 
 
 " This is the world ! This is the world," 
 said a voice within her. "A pad between 
 yoke and head, a pad of thoughts, of got-up 
 feelings." 
 
 The servant was astounded to see the 
 gracious lady staring so fixedly, and now 
 she asked him : — 
 
 " Does it not hurt them ? " 
 
 He did not understand what she meant, 
 and she was obliged to repeat the question ; 
 he now replied : — 
 
 "The ox don't know anything different, 
 he's made for just this. Since the gracious 
 Herr has let the double yoke be taken off, 
 and each ox has now his own yoke to him- 
 self, they're harder to manage, but they 
 draw a deal easier than when they were 
 double-yoked." 
 
 Bella shivered. 
 
 ' 1 Double yoke — single y oke, " was sound- 
 ing in her ears, and suddenly it seemed to 
 her as if it were night, and she herself only 
 a ghost wandering around. This house, 
 these gardens, this world, all is but a realm 
 of shadows that vanishes away. 
 
 It was terribly sultry, and Bella felt as if 
 she should suffocate. Then a fresh current 
 of air streamed over the height, a thunder- 
 storm unexpectedly came up, and Bella had 
 hardly reached the house before there came 
 thunder, lightning, and a driving rain. 
 
 Bella stood at the window and stared out 
 into the distance, and then up at an old ash- 
 tree, whose branches were dashing about in 
 every direction, and whose trunk was bend- 
 ing from the gale. The tree inclined itself 
 towards the house, as if it must there get 
 help. Bella thought to herself, — For 
 years and years this tree has been rooting 
 itself here and thriving, and no tempest can 
 wrench it away and lop off its boughs. 
 Does it know that this storm will pass over, 
 and serve only to give it new strength ? I 
 am such a tree also, and I stand •firm. 
 Come tempest, come lightning and thunder, 
 come beating rain, neither shall you uproot 
 me, nor lop off my boughs ! 
 
 " Eric ! " she suddenly exclaimed aloud to 
 herself. Clodwig now entered, saying, — 
 " Dear wife, I have been looking for you." 
 
 Bella's soul was deeply moved when she 
 heard him call her " dear wife." Clodwig 
 showed her a letter that he had been writing 
 to the Professor's widow, inviting her, ac- 
 cording to Bella's expressed desire, to make 
 a visit of several weeks at Wolfsgarten. 
 
 " Don't send the letter," said she abruptly, 
 "let us again be quietly by ourselves ; I 
 would rather not be disturbed now by the 
 Dournay family." 
 
234 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Clodwig expressed his opinion that the 
 noble lady, so far from interfering with 
 their quiet, would be an additional element 
 of be autiful companionship, and would be 
 the means of their seeing Eric in a pleasant 
 way. 
 
 The storm had ceased, and when Bella 
 opened the window, a refreshing breeze 
 drew in. She held the letter in her hand ; 
 it had been tempest, lightning, rain, and 
 thunder that raged to-day in her soul, and 
 now there was refreshing life. She agreed 
 with her husband ; she said to herself, that 
 intercourse with the noble woman would 
 restore her to herself; and for a moment 
 the thought occurred to her that she would 
 confess all to the mother, and be governed 
 by her. Then came the thought that this 
 was not necessary ; it would be very natural 
 for Eric to come to Wolfsgarten, and her 
 intercourse with him would fall back into 
 the old peaceful channels. 
 
 Bella wrote a short postscript to the let- 
 ter of her husband ; and the Doctor also, 
 who came in just as they were closing the 
 letter, added a few words. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 AN OPEN COURT AND AN OPEN INVENTORY. 
 
 The fireworks were still crackling and 
 snapping in their ears, the dazzling lights 
 still gleaming in their eyes, and the music 
 of the band still sounding in their recollec- 
 tion, when they were obliged to make ready 
 for appearance at court, as witnesses in the 
 affair of the burglary. 
 
 Pranken remained with the guests at the 
 Villa, having undertaken to show them the 
 recently purchased country-house. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, Roland, and Eric, and also 
 the ' porter, the coachman, Bertram, the 
 head-gardener, the little "Squirrel," and 
 two gardeners repaired to the county town 
 to attend the trial. They went by the 
 house of the Wine-count, now styled Baron 
 von Endlich, where the remnants of fire- 
 works were still visible, scattered here and 
 there ; the house was yet shut up, the family 
 still sleeping their first sleep as members of 
 the nobility. 
 
 Eric spoke of the beautiful and genuinely 
 pious conduct of the priest towards the 
 prisoners. He was a living example of the 
 grand doctrine that religion required one 
 to interest himself in the stumbling and the 
 unfortunate, whether they were guilty or 
 innocent. The Doctor, on the other hand, 
 maintained in a very droll fashion that it 
 was an extremely beneficial thing for the 
 Ranger to pass, once in his life, several 
 weeks within walls and under a roof. 
 
 There was little else said ; they reached 
 the county town in good season. 
 
 Sonnenkamp went to the telegraph office, 
 in order to send some messages, one of 
 which was directed to the University-town 
 for the widow of the Professor. 
 
 " At that time — does it not seem to you 
 as if it were ten years ago ? — at that time 
 it was very different from to-day. Don't 
 you think that there were villains also among 
 the singers, perhaps worse ones than those 
 in prison yonder ? " 
 
 It pained Eric grievously that Roland 
 must be initiated so early into the bitterness 
 and the dissensions of life. They went to- 
 gether to the court-house. 
 
 The president and the judges occupied 
 a raised platform ; on the right sat the jury, 
 and on the left, the accused and their coun- 
 sel ; the room was full of spectators, for 
 there was a general curiosity to hear the 
 mysterious Herr Sonnenkamp speak in pub- 
 lic, and no one knew what might be picked 
 up in the way of information. 
 
 The dwarf, the groom, and the huntsman 
 sat on the criminals' seat. The dwarf took 
 snuff very zealously, the groom looked 
 around imploringly, and Claus held his 
 hands before his eyes. 
 
 The dwarf looked as if he had had good 
 keeping, and thriven under it ; he gazed 
 around the hall with an almost satisfied 
 bearing, as if he felt flattered that so many 
 people concerned themselves about him. 
 The groom, whose hair had been very nice- 
 ly dressed, regarded the crowd with a con- 
 temptuous glance. 
 
 Claus seemed to have pined away consid- 
 erably, and when the dwarf wanted to whis- 
 per something to him, as he sat there at 
 a little distance from his fellow defendants, 
 he turned away displeased. He looked up 
 to the space occupied by the spectators, and 
 saw among them his wife, two of his sons, 
 and his daughter ; but the cooper was not 
 present. The children appeared to have 
 grown since he had last seen them, and they 
 were dressed in their Sunday-clothes, in 
 order to witness the disgrace — no, it must 
 simply be the honor of their father. 
 
 The huntsman moved restlessly on the 
 seat, and spoke to his wife with his lips, ut- 
 tering no sound. He meant to tell her to 
 be undisturbed, as in a couple of hours they 
 would go home together. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, Eric, and Roland were in 
 the witnesses' seat. 
 
 Roland sat between his father and Eric, 
 to whom he clung as if he were afraid. 
 Knopf sat next to Eric, and nodded to Ro- 
 land. 
 
 " Before the law the testimony of all men 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 235 
 
 is equal," said Roland in a low voice to Eric, 
 who knew what was passing in Roland's 
 mind. 
 
 His pride was a little touched that the 
 testimony of the porter would be of as much 
 account "as that of his father, but he had 
 quickly overcome the feeling. 
 
 The indictments were read. It had been 
 found, on further investigation, that one 
 compartment of the closet built into the 
 wall, separate from the great safe, had been 
 opened with a key and then closed again ; 
 a considerable sum of money had been taken 
 from it, the greater part of which was found 
 in the groom's possession. 
 
 At his own request, Sonnenkamp was 
 summoned first, to identify the stolen prop- 
 erty. . 
 
 Roland straightened himself up, when he 
 heard his father give his testimony in so 
 plain and gentle a manner. 
 
 Sonnenkamp expressed regret that people 
 should meet with misfortur^, but justice 
 must have its course. 
 
 He was dismissed. He had already made 
 his bow, and was about to leave the court- 
 room, when the counsel of the accused groom 
 asked the President whether he intended to 
 let Herr Sonnenkamp off from testifying as 
 to the amount of gold and valuable papers 
 in the closet ; if Herr Sonnenkamp did not 
 know this, he could not tell exactly how 
 much had been stolen from him in the part 
 that had been broken into. 
 
 The whole assembly was breathless. 
 Now it would be seen what was the amount 
 of Sonnenkarnp's wealth, reputed so im- 
 measurable. A perfect silence prevailed 
 for a time ; it was broken by Sonnenkarnp's 
 asking whether the court could oblige him 
 to testify on his conscience as to the sum, 
 or whether he could reply, or not, as he saw 
 fit. The President said, that he must ex- 
 press the opinion, that the amount of what 
 was stolen was certainly of great import- 
 ance in reference to the sentence to be im- 
 posed upon the accused. , 
 
 Again there was a pause. Sonnenkamp 
 unbuttoned his coat, unbuttoned his waist- 
 coat, and taking out a little memorandum- 
 book, he approached the judge's seat, and 
 offered it to him, saying : — 
 
 " Here is an exact inventory of the notes 
 payable to bearer, of those payable to my 
 order, and of the sum in specie." 
 
 When half way up the steps of the plat- 
 form where the president and the judges sat, 
 Sonnenkamp stopped, for the defendant's 
 counsel now cried : — 
 
 " We have an open court, entirely open, 
 and there is nothing which the Herr Presi- 
 dent is to know, and we to be ignorant of." 
 
 "Well then," said Sonnenkamp, turning 
 round, "it shall be told openly: Twelve 
 millions of paper payable to the bearer, 
 three millions to my order, and only two 
 hundred thousand in gold coin. Is that sat- 
 isfactory ? " 
 
 A bravo was uttered by the spectators, 
 and the President was obliged to threaten 
 them with clearing the hall, if it were re- 
 peated. 
 
 Sonnenkamp descended ; he had desired 
 to leave the court-room at once, but now 
 he seemed otherwise determined, for he took 
 a seat again on the witnesses' bench. Ro- 
 land cast down his eyes, and tremblingly 
 seized hold of Eric's hand, which he held 
 firmly. There was a low talking among the 
 crowd, a movement this way and that, so 
 that the President was obliged to command 
 quiet by violently ringing his bell ; and 
 Sonnenkamp left the hall. 
 
 The head-gardener gave his testimony, 
 which was scarcely listened to. When 
 Eric was summoned, there was again silent 
 attention. 
 
 Eric narrated the whole story, and the 
 huntsman's uniform expressions of bitter- 
 ness at the difference between the rich and 
 the poor, but protested that he regarded 
 the man as incapable of committing any 
 crime against society. 
 
 A strange whispering pervaded the whole 
 assembly when Eric narrated the inquiry 
 of Claus : What would you do, if you were 
 the possessor of millions ? The question 
 had now. in a manner, gone forth to the 
 whole world. 
 
 Knopf was summoned. He offered first 
 a written testimony of the old Herr Weid- 
 mann, with whom the huntsman had lived 
 several years as a servant, who testified to 
 his uprightness, his incapability of any de- 
 ceit, much less any positive crime. Then 
 Knopf added from his own knowledge, how 
 the huntsman was always racking his brains 
 over many matters which he could not 
 master. 
 
 Roland was summoned, and advanced 
 with an erect attitude to the witness-stand ; 
 Claus nodded to him. 
 
 Roland could not be sworn, as he was a 
 minor ; but it made a good impression 
 when he said in an unembarrassed voice, 
 that he considered his word as good as an 
 oath. 
 
 He identified the articles that had been 
 stolen from him ; he asserted that his father's 
 rooms had been locked, but he should not 
 be willing to swear to that, as he had not 
 been near those rooms for several days be- 
 fore the burglary. And how, without be- 
 ing asked, he expressed his conviction that 
 
236 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 Claus could have had no participation in the 
 crime. 
 
 The huntsman got up at these words, 
 and the forester, who sat behind him, ob- 
 liged him to sit down again, putting his 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 The evidence against Claus seemed to be 
 only as the receiver of stolen goods. The 
 two others could make no defence, and 
 each sought to lay upon the other the guilt 
 of the burglary. 
 
 Eric was recalled, in order to testify more 
 in detail concerning the huntsman's request 
 to be shown all over the house, a few days 
 before the robbery. When Eric had sat 
 down, Roland got up and asked : — 
 
 " Herr President, may I be permitted to 
 say one word more ? 11 
 
 " Speak, 11 replied the President encourag- 
 ingly ; " say all that you wish to. 11 
 
 Roland stepped forward quickly, with 
 head erect, and said, in a voice that had 
 now a full, manly tone, — 
 
 " I here raise my hand in testimony, 
 that my poor brother here is as innocent 
 as he is poor. It is true he has often com- 
 plained that one man should starve while 
 another gormandizes ; but before God and 
 man 1 declare that he has often said to me : 
 The hand must wither that grasps unjust 
 possessions. Can a man do that, and then 
 go away by night and break into another's 
 house, and rob ? I beseech you, I conjure 
 you earnestly, to declare that this man is 
 as innocent as all of you are ; as innocent 
 as I am ! 11 
 
 He ceased, standing as if he were rooted 
 to the spot, and for a while there was a 
 breathless stillness in the assembly. 
 
 "Have you any thing more to say? 11 
 asked the President. Roland seemed now 
 to wake up, and said, — 
 
 " No, nothing more. I thank you." He 
 returned to Eric, who grasped his hand ; it 
 was cold as ice, and he warmed it in his 
 own. On the other side, Knopf also tried 
 to grasp the hand of his former pupil, but 
 he could not, for he was obliged to take 
 off his spectacles, which had become wet 
 from the great tears rolling from his 
 eyes. 
 
 The proceedings were brief. The Head- 
 master was one of the jury, who now with- 
 drew into their room for consultation. Af- 
 ter a short absence they returned, and the 
 head-master, who had been chosen foreman, 
 laying his hand upon his heart, announced 
 the unanimous verdict : — 
 
 The dwarf and the groom, guilty ; the 
 huntsman, not guilty. 
 
 Outside, in front of the court-house, as 
 his wife and children, — the cooper among 
 
 them now, — crowded round Claus, Roland 
 pressed up to him and seized his hand. 
 
 The huntsman turned from them all, say- 
 ing that he must speak to young Weid- 
 mann, who had been one of the jury ; the 
 young man came up just then, and Claus 
 cried out to him, with a great flow of words, 
 that he must tell his lather that all his 
 troubles were wiped out, since every one 
 had heard what Herr Weidmann thought 
 of him. 
 
 Young Weidmann went to Eric and con- 
 gratulated him on having formed such a 
 pupil ; others came also to offer congratu- 
 lations and shake hands. Eric begged 
 young Weidmann to remember him to his 
 father, and say that he should soon pay the 
 promised visit to Mauenheim. 
 
 Knopf stood in the midst of a group of 
 people, begging them not to spoil the boy 
 with their praises ; and, in his effort to 
 keep others back, he refrained from going 
 himself to sha^e hands with Roland. 
 
 Sonnenkamp appeared, and all took off 
 their hats to him respectfully. Here was 
 the man possessed of such incredible wealth, 
 and he wore a coat like other people, and 
 had to stand on his own feet. Sonnen- 
 kamp seemed a prodigy to them all. How 
 was it possible for a man to possess such 
 wealth? But there were some knowing 
 scoffers who declared that Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp had overstated his property, and 
 others, still more knowing, who were will- 
 ing to swear that he was even richer than 
 he had said, but they were hardly noticed. 
 Sonnenkamp, greeting all around in a most 
 friendly manner, went to Claus to con- 
 gratulate "him, and then called Roland 
 aside. Roland stood before his father for 
 the first since he had learned his great 
 wealth ; his eyes fell ; looking up to him 
 seemed like looking up to a high mountain, 
 but Sonnenkamp laid his hand kindly on 
 his shoulder, and told him that he might 
 drive home alone with Eric, as he was him- 
 self obliged to remain in town to wait for a 
 telegram. 
 
 Roland begged Claus and his family most 
 pressingly to ride home with him ; the 
 huntsman refused, but Roland urged it so 
 warmly that he at last yielded, and entered 
 the carriage with his wife, leaving the chil- 
 dren to walk. Roland took the released 
 prisoner in triumph through the town and 
 villages ; the wife was embarrassed at rid- 
 ing in such state, but Claus himself looked 
 round without constraint, only saying sev- 
 eral times : — 
 
 " All has gone on very well without me, 
 and will do very well, when I am across the 
 ocean." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 237 
 
 To Eric he expressed his determination 
 of emigrating to America with his family. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE MAJOR MAKES A CONQUEST. 
 
 The same sun that shone at Wolfsgarten, 
 where Bella was maintaining a severe inter- 
 nal struggle, and that shone through the 
 lowered green shades in the court-room 
 upon the bench of the accused, glimmered 
 also through the closed Venetian blinds in 
 the quiet sitting-room of the Professor's 
 widow in the University-town. Eric's moth- 
 er sat by the window filled with flowers, in 
 the piano recess, at her silent work, think- 
 ing of her son ; it was a subject of constant 
 thought with her, why he had to enter upon 
 a mode of life so out of the ordinary 
 course. 
 
 She often looked up sadly to the portrait 
 of her husband, which seemed to say to her : 
 My child, both of us entered upon a path 
 in life out of the ordinary course, thou even 
 more than I ; and that is transmitted as an 
 inheritance from generation to generation ; 
 we ought to rest content, as thereby we 
 keep a firmer hold upon the' spirit of our 
 son, and though he may be thrown down to 
 the ground by fortune, he can never be held 
 there permanently. 
 
 So did the mother console herself; and 
 Eric's letters were also a source of consola- 
 tion. He had made a faithful report to her, 
 then he excused himself for the irregularity 
 and haste of his letters, on the ground that 
 he must forget, for a time, himself and 
 everybody else who belonged to him, as 
 only in this way could he hope to gain pos- 
 session of another soul. At first he men- 
 tioned Clodwig and Bella frequently, — his 
 home feeling with these friends, and the 
 happy realization of a state of tranquillity ; 
 then, for a while, there was nothing said of 
 Bella, except sometimes a brief greeting 
 from her at her request. The mother had 
 not noticed this, but aunt Claudine, who 
 seldom said any thing unless her opinion 
 was asked, and then had something to say 
 very much to the purpose, did not hesitate 
 to remark unreservedly, after Clodwig's 
 and Bella's visit, on being asked what im- 
 pression it had left, that she had noticed a 
 certain restlessness in Bella's look, and she 
 feared from the manner in which she had 
 looked at a likeness of Eric, taken when he 
 was young, that there was here a more than 
 common interest. The mother was forced 
 to assent to this, for she had also noticed 
 how deeply interested Bella had been in 
 making inquiries concerning Eric's youth- 
 
 ful years. But she said further to her sis- 
 ter-in-law that Bella was an artist, at least 
 was more than a common dilettante, and 
 had observed with the eye of an artist the 
 picture, that was exceedingly well painted; 
 a considerable sum had already been offered 
 for it in order to be put into an art-collec- 
 tion. 
 
 There was stillness in the abode of the 
 two ladies, who lived almost as quietly as 
 the flowers which throve so well under 
 their watchfulness and care. The postman 
 brought a letter in Clodwig's neat hand- 
 writing, in every word of which the man 
 himself could be discerned, so neat and 
 regular were the letters, with no stroke 
 hastily made, and none too elaborately pre- 
 cise ; the whole had an appearance of uni- 
 formity, and the lines were straight and at 
 an equal distance apart, though the paper 
 was unruled. A feeling of pleasure was 
 awakened by the mere sight of the letter, 
 and the contents were such as to strengthen 
 this quiet satisfaction. He said that the 
 Professor's widow would lay him under an 
 obligation of gratitude by accepting an 
 invitation to make a visit of several weeks. 
 He appealed to the friendly relations with 
 her deceased husband, and the beautiful 
 renewal of them in his intercourse with Eric, 
 who gave to him a youthful friendship such 
 as he had scarcely dreamed of. Lastly, he 
 appealed to their mutual personal acquaint- 
 ance, and there was a written smile when 
 he added, that, during his whole life, he had 
 never made a demand upon the heart which 
 had not met with a response, and he prayed 
 her now not to shame him in his old age. 
 He closed by saying that he entreated the 
 mother of his friend Eric to permit him to 
 call himself " her friend Clodwig." There 
 was no formal politeness in the letter, and 
 yet it was full of a delicate friendliness. 
 
 Bella had hastily scratched underneath, 
 in a coarse hand, a request that the mother 
 and aunt would honor her with a visit ; she 
 said that she wrote only a few words, as she, 
 felt sure that she should be favored with 
 the intimate intercourse of the respected 
 mother and the amiable aunt. In a post- 
 script she besought them to bring with 
 them Eric's music. 
 
 In the letter there was enclosed a second 
 one from the Doctor, who claimed to have 
 been a scholar of the old Professor. He 
 offered good-humoredly his professional 
 services, and there was only one brief sen- 
 tence in which he suggested that it would 
 be a protection and a safeguard to his 
 young friend Eric, to be again under the 
 eye of his mother. 
 
 This awakened in her many thoughts, 
 
238 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 and she resolved to accept the invitation. 
 Sonnenkamp's telegram was delivered. 
 
 Just as she had finished reading this, 
 there was another knock, and the Major en- 
 tered. 
 
 When the mother saw him, at first she 
 was frightened, not recognizing him, as she 
 looked at the red face, the short, white 
 hair, and the decoration on his breast. For 
 a moment it seemed to her that he was some 
 messenger of justice, who had come to exe- 
 cute some commission or other, she knew 
 not what, that endangered Eric's welfare. 
 
 The Major did not mend matters at all, 
 when he said, — 
 
 " Frau Professorin, I come to execute a 
 warrant of ejection ; but I am not indeed to 
 drive you out of Paradise, but to shut you 
 up in the Garden of Eden." 
 
 He had been making up this pretty speech 
 during the whole journey, and he had said 
 it over inaudibly to himself certainly a hun- 
 dred times : and now it came out so clumsi- 
 ly, that the good lady trembled so that she 
 could not rise. 
 
 The Major cried : — 
 
 "Don't get up; everybody knows that 
 there's no ceremony at all to be made with 
 me. I don't desire to incommode any one ; I 
 greatly prefer that people would sit when I 
 enter. Isn't it the same with you ? One 
 feels sure in this case that he doesn't make 
 any disturbance." 
 
 " Have you come from my son ? " 
 
 " Yes, from him too. Observe, Tin not 
 one of the best people in the world, neither 
 am I one of the worst ; but there's one thing I 
 can say to my credit, that I have never in all 
 my life envied anybody but you, and you I 
 did envy when you said, ' my son ;' that I 
 did envy you for. Why can't I say this 
 too? If I only had such a son as you 
 have ! " 
 
 Now there was tranquillity at last. The 
 Major delivered a letter from Sonnenkamp 
 and the Cabiuetsrathin, and desired that 
 the letters should be read immediately, as 
 they would render it unnecessary lor him to 
 say anything. 
 
 The Professorin read, and the Major 
 watched her countenance while she was 
 reading, with peculiar marks of quiet satis- 
 faction. 
 
 The Professorin bade him welcome, and 
 called her sister-in-law, who came in. 
 
 The blinds were opened, and the in- 
 streaming light shone upon cheerful faces. 
 
 "What shall we decide upon doing?" 
 asked Aunt Claudine. 
 
 " There is no longer any question of de- 
 ciding ; we accept the heartv invitation." 
 
 "Which?" 
 
 " Of course Herr Sonnenkamp's." 
 
 "That's right," said the Major with a 
 broad smile. " Will you allow me to light 
 a cigar? Did your husband, now gone to 
 his eternal home, smoke too?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 Aunt Claudine had quickly lighted a 
 match, and held it up to the Major with her 
 delicate fingers. 
 
 " That's fair ! that's fair ! " cried the Ma- 
 jor. " You've given me fire, and I prom- 
 ise to go through fire for you." 
 
 He was very happy over this turn, and he 
 puffed away yet happier. 
 
 There were, of course, a great many 
 things to be got ready, before they could 
 set out. The Major promised that Joseph 
 should come and bring everything away 
 after they had departed ; not one thread 
 should be left behind. He then withdrew 
 for a few hours, in order to pay a visit to 
 some brother free-masons. 
 
 At midday, the Major was riding with the 
 two ladies in a first-class railroad car to- 
 wards the Rhine, and he was as proud and 
 as happy as if he had carried off the army- 
 chest of the enemy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 POTATOES AND SOMETHING BETTER BE- 
 SIDES. 
 
 Claus and his wife were in the same car- 
 riage with Eric and Roland. When Claus 
 reached the line where his beat began, he 
 asked them to stop, and got out. 
 
 " No, I go in no carriage here," he said. 
 " And look here at my hands ; my hands 
 have been hand-cuffed. What now are they 
 to do ? Are they to avenge themselves ? On 
 whom ? And if I should know on whom, 
 what then ? " 
 
 He took up a clod of earth, raised it up 
 towards heaven, and cried : — 
 
 " By thee I swear that I will emigrate. 
 The New World must give me some land of 
 my own ; I have long enough looked after 
 the land of other people in the old." 
 
 Eric and Roland also got out, and went 
 with the couple into their house. Then a 
 sudden call was heard from the vineyard, 
 and Sevenpiper came from it with the hal- 
 berd which Claus had always carried as the 
 badge of his office as field-guard. He 
 handed it over to Claus, saying, — 
 
 "Take this now again; I have kept it 
 faithfully for you." 
 
 He joined the escort of the couple to their 
 home. The dogs barked in the yard, and 
 the birds flitted here and there, and twittered 
 all together, for their master had come 
 back. But the black-bird sang louder than 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 239 
 
 all, caroling, Rejoice in your life ; but 
 she stuck fast at the second bar. The field- 
 guard gazed round upon all, as if he had 
 just waked up. At last there was a calm, 
 and the whole family sat round the table, 
 and ate the first new potatoes which a 
 neighbor had boiled for them. Never had 
 Roland eaten any food which had such a 
 relish, and all laughed when he said, — 
 
 ' ' Claus, these potatoes originated there 
 where you are going and where I came 
 from ; they were born in America, and we 
 have immigrated hither." 
 
 They had a pleasant time together, and 
 Roland presented the stolen watch which 
 had been restored to him to Claus, as a 
 lasting token of remembrance. He was not 
 willing to take it, not even when Eric and 
 Sevenpiper joined in the request. 
 
 "Just take it, father," finally said the 
 cooper, and Claus yielded. 
 
 Sevenpiper led the talk to-day. He made 
 fun of the field-guard for being a great deal 
 too uneasy ; and for continually worrying 
 how people got to be so rich, which was 
 wholly needless. A man might, indeed, be 
 empty, but one couldn't eat more than his 
 fill, or do more than quench his thirst ; and 
 the riih man couldn't get any more out of 
 sleep than to sleep sound, and sleeping 
 sound didn't depend upon the bed in which 
 one slept, but it was just sleeping sound ; 
 and to ride in one's coach was pure non- 
 sense ; it was much better to go upon one's 
 own good walking-sticks. 
 
 There was also some mention made of 
 the dwarf, and Sevenpiper said, — 
 
 " Yes ; if any one wants to visit the grave 
 of this mannikin, he will have to carry a 
 ladder along with him." 
 
 "What for?" asked Roland. 
 
 "Because he will be hanged." 
 
 Claus did not like to have them talk of 
 bad people. 
 
 Sevenpiper was a good representative of 
 " blessed be nothing." He had sent a child 
 to his house, and just as some bottles of 
 wine arrived which Fraulein Milch had 
 sent, there was heard singing at the en- 
 trance of the house. The whole organ was 
 there with all its stops, and soon Eric and 
 Sevenpiper were singing too. 
 
 At last Eric insisted that they must be on 
 their way home ; and as they were turning 
 
 from the village path into the road, a car" 
 riage drove up, from which signals were 
 made, and the powerful voice of the Major 
 cried : — 
 
 "Battalion, halt!" 
 
 They halted ; in the carriage with the 
 Major were the mother and the aunt. 
 
 " This is the only thing which I had yet 
 to wish for," said Roland. "Herr Major, 
 Claus has been released ; he is innocent." 
 
 The mother embraced her son after she 
 had first embraced Roland. They got out, 
 and Eric walked to the villa arm-in-ärm 
 with his mother, who held Roland by the 
 hand on the other side. The Major po- 
 litely offered his arm to the aunt, but she 
 declined, excusing herself by saying that it 
 was a peculiarity of hers never to take any 
 one's arm. 
 
 " That's really the better way ; Fräulein 
 Milch thinks so too. You'll get acquainted 
 with her ; you'll be good friends with one 
 another, you may rely upon that. She 
 knew every thing — every single thing. 
 It's incomprehensible how she picked it all 
 up. She knew that Count Clodwig had 
 sent you an invitation. But we know a 
 stratagem or two ; we've been beforehand 
 with him. ' He whom fortune favors leads 
 home the bride,' as the saying is." 
 
 Music was heard in the distance, and the 
 Major informed them that it was a part of 
 the wedding celebration at Herr von End- 
 lieh's. 
 
 " O mother, if I am ever again despond- 
 ing and low-spirited, I will call to mind this 
 hour, and be again happy ! " 
 
 The mother could not speak ; her heart 
 was too full. 
 
 There was a very friendly welcome at the 
 villa. The Cabin etsrdthin embraced and 
 kissed the Professorin ; Frau Ceres sent an 
 excuse for not appearing. Sonnenkamp 
 came after nightfall. 
 
 The moon shone brightly when Eric and 
 Roland escorted the mother and the aunt 
 to the vine-embowered dwelling. And as 
 she stood here upon the balcony, Eric's 
 mother took his hand again, quietly, and 
 said, — 
 
 "If thy father could see thee, he would 
 rejoice in thee ; thou hast still thy pure and 
 good glance ; yes, all is well, thou hast the 
 old pure glance." 
 
240 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE MOTHER IS HERE. 
 
 " My mother is here ! " 
 
 A dewy atmosphere of inexhaustible fresh- 
 ness encompassed Eric ; he heard the voice 
 of a child awakening from a dream, and yet 
 it was he himself who had spoken. He closed 
 his eyes, and went back in thought to the 
 days of childhood ; all that had since ex- 
 cited and oppressed his spirit was torn into 
 fragments, and had sunk out of sight. 
 
 " My mother is here ! 11 
 
 This was now a call of duty. Eric stood 
 by Roland's bedside ; it was never necessary 
 for him to speak in order to waken him, for 
 as soon as he looked directly upon him, Ro- 
 land waked up. Now he opened his eyes, 
 and his first words were : — 
 Thy mother is here ! " 
 
 Eric heard these same words, now spoken 
 by another, which he had heard in his own 
 dreamy reverie, and, placing his hand upon 
 the brow of the youth, he regarded him with 
 a mingled feeling of joy and sorrow. Why 
 has this poor rich boy not the blessedness 
 of a mother's love ? 
 
 The new day received its consecration, 
 for Eric and Roland began it by going to 
 give a greeting to the mother. 
 
 As they were walking along the river, 
 Roland shouted across it : — 
 
 ' ' Father Rhine ! Eric's mother is here ! " 
 
 Eric smiled ; the youth's face was all a- 
 glow. 
 
 They went to the mother as to a temple, 
 and they came away from her as from a tem- 
 ple, for this gentle, peaceful spirit conveyed 
 a benediction in every word, in every move- 
 ment of the hand, in every glance of the 
 eye ; and she it was who appealed to 'the 
 sanctity of established rule, and the persis- 
 tent continuance in duty, for she said to 
 them that she should regard it as the most 
 perfect proof of love and loyal attachment, 
 if they would go on with their work to-day 
 just as they did yesterday ; in every situa- 
 tion in life, whether in tribulation or in glad- 
 ness, the appointed duty must be performed. 
 
 They were again seated at their work, 
 and they read together, to-day, the return of 
 Ulysses" to Ithaca. Eric was somewhat ab- 
 sent, for everything took the hue of the feel- 
 ing that he was with his mother ; he over- 
 came this, — he would be wholly engaged in 
 what was before him, but he caught himself 
 unexpectedly drawn away in this direction 
 as he looked at Roland. "Ah! why can 
 you not have the same feeling ? The best 
 refreshment and blessing for a human being 
 is the mother's love. Every other love 
 must be sued for, be obtained by conquest, 
 
 be earned, be struggled for through obsta- 
 cles ; a mother's love alone one has always' 
 unsought and undeserved." 
 
 Now Bella came again into his mind. 
 Eric hoped to have annihilated everything 
 in himself that was false to human nature 
 and to purity, and summoning up a greater 
 strength than ever, a strength obtained by 
 hard wrestling, he devoted himself to the 
 Avork of instruction, and succeeded in pro- 
 jecting himself and the youth into the Jife 
 of another, so that they forgot everything 
 immediately around them. 
 
 At noon, the realization of the mother's 
 presence came to them as a fresh gift. 
 They were in the garden together ; Frau 
 Ceres was not visible, and she begged, 
 through Fräulein Perini, to be excused. 
 Sonnenkamp smiled, for he knew that it had 
 never occurred to Frau Ceres to send an ex- 
 cuse, and that Fräulein Perini had done it 
 of her own accord ; and it was well for her 
 to do so, he thought, for the refractory dis- 
 position of his wife led her to turn away 
 from the guests intruding upon her privacy, 
 and her strong point was in declining ; she 
 allowed nothing to approach her. Fräulein 
 Perini manifestly took very great pains to 
 render herself as agreeable as possible to 
 the Professor's widow, and was grateful 
 as a child when she was shown how to 
 execute a new piece of handiwork. 
 
 The Cabiuetsräthin served as a very ex- 
 cellent means of bringing them together. 
 There was something exceedingly captivat- 
 ing in the way in which she so very modest- 
 ly placed herself as the inferior of the Pro- 
 fessorin, giving to her the position of honor 
 which she might perhaps have attained as a 
 right, but which was now conceded to her 
 by sovereign grace ; for the Cabinetsräthin 
 repeatedly said, that the Professorin had 
 been the first lady at the court in her day, 
 and that even now, if the court circle wanted 
 to specify any exalted excellence, they 
 pointed to her. She found herself, at first, 
 put under some degree of constraint by be- 
 ing placed upon such an elevated pinnacle, 
 but she was grateful to the illustrious lady 
 for her evident endeavor to convert her con- 
 dition of dependence and poverty into one 
 which was regarded Avith respectful homage. 
 
 Fräulein Perini herself was subdued by 
 this character so calmly dignified, this coun- 
 tenance so placid and open, so beaming 
 with youthful brightness, so benignantly ra- 
 diant that nothing unworthy or impure 
 could approach ; and in this countenance 
 the heart manifested itself, always young, 
 full of the inspiration that had been awakened 
 by the ideal life of her husband, and that 
 was now called forth by the presence of her 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 241 
 
 son. She said the simplest things with such 
 charming grace, that they appeared to be of 
 great importance, and with such freshness, 
 that it seemed as if this were the first time 
 they had ever been known. 
 
 While they were together at noon, a let- 
 ter came from Bella. She sent a welcome 
 to the Professor's widow, and appointed the 
 next day for a visit. 
 
 Frau Dournay wished to send back an 
 answer by the messenger, but he had been 
 immediately sent off, no one knew why. 
 It was Sonnenkamp who had given the or- 
 der, and when she despatched her letter 
 through a messenger attached to the house, 
 it strayed first into Sonnenkamp's cabinet, 
 who understood how to open it very dex- 
 terously, and who read with great satisfac- 
 tion the reply which was no less decided 
 than it was delicate in expression. Sonnen- 
 kamp smiled as he read where the lady laid 
 stress upon the fact that she was the guest 
 of the family, received as such in the kindest 
 manner, and begged that the promised visit 
 might be made to them, and to herself as their 
 visitor. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled again and again, for 
 he confidently expected that the Professor's 
 widow would compel the whole neighbor- 
 hood to accept himself, finally, as a member, 
 in full standing, of their social body. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE IGNORANT IS READY TO BE TAUGHT. 
 
 Sonnen KAMP went from his cabinet to the 
 room of Frau Ceres ; she sent word to him 
 in the ante-chamber by a maid, that she 
 desired to see no one. Paying no attention 
 to the message, he went in and found her 
 lying on the sofa, with the curtains drawn, 
 so that in the large room there was a dusky 
 twilight. Frau Ceres looked at him with 
 her large dark eyes, but spoke not a word, 
 only extending to him her delicate, small 
 hand with long finger-nails. He kissed the 
 hand, and then seated himself by the side of 
 his wife. 
 
 There was silence for sometime, and then 
 he began to explain to her that a nearer 
 approach was to be made to the accomplish- 
 ment of his plan through the guest now in 
 the house, for this lady's hand would open 
 the folding-doors of the apartments of the 
 princely palace. 
 
 At the mention of the palace, Frau Ceres 
 raised herself a little; her restless look 
 showed how she was stirred by hope ; for, 
 beyond the sea, and in all his devious wan- 
 derings, Sonnenkamp had always held be- 
 fore his wife this idea, like some bright 
 
 fairy-tale, that she would be able to enter 
 into the court-circle, arid it seemed to her 
 as if she were to be introduced into some 
 heavenly sphere, where everything was re- 
 splendent and glorious, a perpetual round 
 of godlike existence. Such was the idea 
 Frau Ceres had entertained of court-life. 
 She was aware now that this was an exag- 
 gerated notion, but, wherever she went, she 
 heard of this good fortune, and saw that 
 every one was striving towards the court- 
 circle, and she was angry with her husband, 
 that- his promises made so often and so long 
 ago had never been fulfilled. They came 
 to Europe ; they had retired into seclusion, 
 where people said everything was so beau- 
 tiful, but whence she was continually ex- 
 pecting to be summoned to Court. 
 
 Why is there so long delay ? Why are 
 people so distant? Even Bella, the only 
 one who exhibited any friendliness, treated 
 her like a parrot, like some strange bird 
 whose bright plumage she was amused with, 
 but with whom she had nothing more to do 
 than from time to time to give it a lump of 
 sugar, and address to it some casual, pretty 
 word. Even the recollection of her having 
 surpassed all others in splendor at the fete 
 of Herr von Endlich was only half satisfac- 
 tory to Frau Ceres. 
 
 In the midst of all her apparent listless- 
 ness and want of interest in external things, 
 she was continually harping upon one 
 thought, and this thought had been instilled 
 into her by Sonnenkamp ; but it had become 
 stronger than he desired, taking exclusive 
 possession of her being. 
 
 He understood how to represent in a very 
 plausible way, that the Professorin — to 
 whom the Cabinetsrathin herself looked up, 
 because she had been the favorite and most 
 influential lady of the Court, even the friend 
 and confidante of the Princess-dowager — 
 that this lady would give to the whole family 
 a new splendor, and surely be the means of 
 their attaining the desired end. 
 
 Sonnenkamp succeeded in impressing her 
 so deeply with his sagacity, that Frau Ceres 
 at last yielded, saying, — 
 
 "You are, in fact, very wise. I will 
 speak to the tutor's mother." 
 
 He now proceeded to give some instruc- 
 tions, how she should bear herself towards 
 her, but, like a spoiled child, — even almost 
 like an irrational animal, Frau Ceres shrieked 
 out, clapp.ed her hands, stamped her feet, 
 crying, — 
 
 "I won't have any instructions! not 
 a word more ! Bring the lady to me ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp went to the Widow, deeply 
 moved and troubled ; he wanted to give to 
 her some directions in regard to her inter- 
 
242 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 view with his wife, but was afraid of every 
 hint, and only said, — 
 
 " My dear little wife has been a little 
 spoiled, and is very nervous." 
 
 Eric's mother visited Frau Ceres, and 
 found her lying quietly upon the sofa ; she 
 had sense enough to know that the less demon- 
 strative one is, the more effect does one 
 produce upon others. 
 
 When the visitor on entering made a 
 very graceful courtesy, Frau Ceres suddenly 
 forgot everything, and before a word could 
 be said, she cried, — 
 
 " You must teach me that ! I would like 
 to courtesy in that way. Is not that the 
 way they do at Court ? " 
 
 The visitor knew not what to reply. Is 
 this something worse than a nervous person, 
 — is she insane ? She retained self-command 
 enough, however, to say : — 
 
 " I can very well conceive that our forms 
 must be rather strange to you, in your free 
 Republic ; I think that it is better at the 
 first interview to shake hands.' 1 
 
 She extended her hand, which Frau Ceres 
 took, and rose as if forgetting herself. 
 
 " You are ill, I will not disturb you any 
 longer,' 1 said the Professor's widow. 
 
 Frau Ceres considered it would be better 
 to pass for a sick person, and said, — 
 
 "Ah, yes! I am always ill. But I 
 beseech you, remain." 
 
 And when the Mother now addressed her, 
 the sound of her voice, its tones of deep 
 feeling, made such an impression upon her 
 excitable nature, that she closed her eyes, 
 and when she opened them, great tear-drops 
 stood upon her long lashes. 
 
 The Mother expressed her regret that 
 she had made her shed tears, but Frau 
 Ceres shook her head violently. 
 
 "No, no, I thank you. I have not been 
 able to weep for years — these tears have 
 lain here — here." She struck her bosom 
 with violence. " I thank you." 
 
 The Mother wanted mow to withdraw, 
 but Frau Ceres rose up quickly, went up 
 to her as she stood there struck with aston- 
 ishment, and shrinking as if from a crazy 
 person, fell on her knees before her, and 
 kissed her hand, crying, — 
 
 "Protect me! Be a mother to me; I 
 have never called anyone mother; I have 
 never known a mother." 
 
 The Mother raised her up, saying, — 
 
 " My child, I can be a mother to you — 
 I can and will. I am happy that such fair 
 tasks are assigned me here, tasks that I can 
 lovingly fulfil. But now be composed." 
 
 She led Frau Ceres back to the sofa, 
 carefully helped her to lie down, and covered 
 her with a large shawl ; it was an odd com- 
 
 plication of soft cushions in which she 
 always lay muffled, as if she were buried. 
 
 She held the Mother's hand fast, and 
 sobbed without cessation. 
 
 The Mother now extolled their happiness 
 in having each of them such a son, speak- 
 ing less of Eric than of Roland ; and as 
 she went on to relate how in the twilight 
 he had appeared like the transfigured form- 
 of her own dead child, Frau Ceres turned 
 towards her and kissed her hand. She 
 proceeded quietly to speak of herself as a 
 person of many peculiarities, which ren- 
 dered it no easy thing for any one to live 
 with her ; she had been in the habit of 
 being too much alone, and she feared that 
 she was not young enough and had not 
 animal spirits sufficient to be the companion 
 of a lady who had every claim to the bril- 
 liancy and joy of a stirring life. 
 
 Frau Ceres requested her to draw back 
 the curtains a little, and as she saw her 
 more plainly she smiled ; but immediately 
 her countenance, with the fine, half-opened 
 mouth, assumed again the listless look 
 which was its habitual expression ; she took 
 the fan and fanned herself. 
 
 At last she said, — 
 
 "Ah yes, to learn! You cannot think 
 how stupid I am, and yet I would so like 
 to be clever, and I would have learned so 
 many things, but he never wanted me to, 
 and has not let me learn anything, and 
 always said : ' You are fairest and dearest to 
 me just as you are.' Yes, it may be to him, 
 but not to myself. If Madame Perini were 
 not so kind, I don't know indeed what I 
 should do. Do you play whist? Do you 
 love nature ? I am verv simple, am I 
 not ? " 
 
 Perhaps Frau Ceres expected that the 
 mother would contradict her, but she did 
 not, only saying : — 
 
 " If there .is anything that I can teach 
 you, I'll do it cheerfully. I have known other 
 ladies like yourself, and I could tell you 
 why you are always ailing." 
 
 " Why ! Do you know that ? you ? " 
 
 " Yes' but it is not flattering." 
 
 " Ah, no matter; tell me." 
 
 " My dear child, you are all the time ill, 
 because you are all the time idle. If a 
 person has nothing to do, then his health 
 gives him something to do." 
 
 " Oh, you are wise, but I am weak," said 
 Frau Ceres. 
 
 And there was in her an utter helpless- 
 ness and weakness ; she looked upon her- 
 self, and was looked upon by Sonnenkamp, 
 as a fragile toy ; and at the same time she 
 was indolent,' and the least effort was a ' 
 burden to her. She did not know whether 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 243 
 
 to hear or to see required the greater exer- 
 tion ; but she found the latter the greater 
 bore, for while one was reading one must 
 hold the book and hold one's self in a par- 
 ticular position, and therefore she always 
 let Fraulein. Perini read aloud to her; this 
 had the advantage that one could go to 
 sleep whenever there was the inclination. 
 
 This was the case now. 
 
 Whilst the Mother was speaking, Frau 
 Ceres suddenly let go her hand, and it was 
 soon evident that the reclining one had 
 fallen asleep ; Frau Dournay sat there in that 
 chamber furnished splendidly and richly as 
 if it were an apartment in some fairy tale. 
 She held her breath, and did not know 
 what course to take. What is the meaning 
 of all this ? Here are riddles in plenty. 
 She did not dare to change her position, 
 for she was afraid of waking the sleeper. 
 The latter turned now and said, — 
 
 "Ah, go now, go now, — I will come 
 down soon myself." She left the room. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was waiting for her outside. 
 
 "How did she seem?" he asked anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "Very gentle and quiet," replied the 
 Mother. " But I have one request. I hope 
 to cure the excitability or lassitude of your 
 wife, but I beg you never to ask me what 
 we have said to each other. If I am to 
 gain her entire confidence, I must be able 
 to say to her in good faith, that what she 
 tells me is told to me alone ; and that what she 
 imparts to me will never pass my lips. 
 Are you willing to promise that we ladies 
 shall do as we like together ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Sonnenkamp. It 
 seemed hard for him to consent, but he felt 
 that he must. 
 
 chapter in. 
 
 A NEIGHBOR SECURED. 
 
 Pranken came the next day, and when he 
 met the widow of the Professor, summoned 
 to his aid his most polished manner ; she 
 gave him to understand at once, that she 
 regarded him as a son of the house. She 
 did this with so much delicacy and such a 
 charming tact, that Pranken was extremely 
 delighted. 
 
 When she thanked him for having been 
 the means of obtaining such a position for 
 Eric, he declined receiving any thanks for 
 what he had done, as it was only a trifling 
 amount toward the payment of his debt to 
 the late Professor, to whom he owed all the 
 culture he possessed. 
 
 He said this with a tone that entirely won 
 the Widow's heart ; she could make allow- 
 ance for the exaggeration of politeness, but 
 
 she felt there was a basis of sincerity, inas- 
 much as no one, unless he were utterly 
 abandoned, could have come within the 
 sphere of her husband's voice and eye, 
 without receiving therefrom a good influence 
 for life. 
 
 Pranken spoke of his brother-in-law and 
 his sister, and how much Eric was liked and 
 loved at Wolfsgarten ; and he conveyed in 
 a happy turn, how much he expected the 
 lady's presence would effect in composing 
 and calming the recently excited and dis- 
 turbed state of his sister. He hinted at 
 this very guardedly, representing only how 
 difficult a task it is to live with an elderly 
 man, even a very noble one, and how in 
 some unexpected way the apparent har- 
 mony might be disturbed. 
 
 She understood more than Pranken im- 
 agined, and she was very glad to find the 
 young man disposed, in the retirement of 
 country life, to a deeper consideration of 
 the influence of one human being upon 
 another. 
 
 Pranken could not refrain from disclosing 
 something of his religious transformation, 
 but he did it as an act of special confidence. 
 There was suddenly presented to him the 
 vision of this lady near Manna, who would 
 lay open to her her whole soul, and would 
 be assured that he acknowledged his inward 
 change to the whole world ; and it just oc- 
 curred to him now, that the Superior had 
 spoken in high praise of this "lady in Man- 
 na's presence. A smile came upon his lips, 
 for he thought how excellent a use could be 
 made of her in diverting Manna from her 
 childish intention of taking the veil, al- 
 though it was in every way to be deplored 
 that this lady was not a member of the same 
 church. 
 
 He then invited the Professor's widow, 
 by Sonnenkamp's request, to drive with 
 them to the country-house which the Cab- 
 inetsrathin — he corrected himself immedi- 
 ately and said the Cabinetsrath — thought 
 of purchasing ; she would certainly do her 
 part towards securing such an agreeable 
 neighbor for Herr Sonnenkamp. Her ob- 
 jection, that she was hardly yet settled, was 
 flatteringly set aside. 
 
 The carriage drove up. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin and Sonnenkamp 
 entered, and the mother must drive with 
 them to the viUa now for sale. They were 
 in extreme good humor on the way, but in- 
 voluntarily there came over Eric's mother 
 j the thought that she was mixed up in some 
 sort of intrigue, and that her simplicity was 
 made use of for some interested purpose. 
 What it was, she was wholly ignorant. She 
 felt serious anxiety, and this positively in- 
 
244 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 creased when Sonnenkamp said, as they en- 
 tered the house, that it belonged to him, and 
 he -was glad to be able to pass it over to his 
 noble neighbor. 
 
 What does this mean? Has a surprise 
 been prepared for her ? Does Sonnenkamp 
 mean to give her the house ? 
 
 She was soon aware of her mistake, for 
 the Cabinetsrathin immediately proceeded 
 to assign the rooms to herself, her husband, 
 and her children. She had two sons in the 
 army, and one invalid daughter ; rooms were 
 also designated for her grandchildren, and 
 when she was looking for a choice spot for 
 herself, Sonnenkamp promised to have the 
 grounds laid out anew. She was amazed to 
 find what capabilities the grounds possessed. 
 
 Sonnemkamp was extremely complaisant ; 
 it had been, indeed, his desire to reserve 
 the country-seat as the payment for his pa- 
 tent of nobility, — for the sum to be paid by 
 the Cabinetsrath was merely nominal, — but 
 he had been obliged to give way to Pran- 
 ken^ representations that this was utterly 
 impracticable, and that it was much wiser 
 to be on neighborly terms with so influen- 
 tial a man, as thus every thing would come 
 about much more naturally. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin sat with the Profes- 
 sors widow in the garden, and endeavored 
 to impress upon her that she would surely 
 be glad, through her great influence, to aid 
 the Sonnenkamp family in obtaining the 
 rank which was their due ; at first she went 
 no farther, but it was her fixed plan that the 
 widow should apply the main lever, and that 
 neither she nor her husband should take a 
 prominent part. Should the plan miscarry, 
 they would remain concealed, and the 
 learned widow, who was reputed as some- 
 what erratic, would be the only one com- 
 mitted. 
 
 Under high-sounding and lofty expres- 
 sions of magnanimity and disinterestedness, 
 there was a hidden policy not easily unrav- 
 elled. 
 
 When Pranken was alone with Sonnen- 
 kamp and the Cabinetsrathin, Sonnenkamp 
 smiled, as one does who considers it a good 
 joke to allow himself for once to be circum- 
 vented. He listened in a very friendly way 
 while Pranken was representing to him that 
 the Cabinetsrath must be put in possession 
 of the house at onCe, for if it were done 
 later, either shortly before or shortly after 
 the consummation of their wishes, it would 
 give rise to scandalous remarks. 
 
 Sonnenkamp smilingly congratulated his 
 young friend on being so well-fitted for a 
 diplomatic career ; it was not denied by 
 Pranken that he should adopt that as his 
 employment, rather than the life of a 
 
 landed proprietor, provided it could 
 done with the consent of those nearest 
 him, and of his fatherly friend, as he termed 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Pranken knew a very accommodating 
 notary, who came that very evening. 
 
 The purchase was concluded, and the 
 Cabinetsrath was the neighbor of Herr 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 As Sohnenkamp was taking a 
 
 walk with 
 latter for 
 expected 
 
 Pranken in the mild evening, the 
 the first time shrank from his 
 father-in-law, when he said, — 
 
 " My dear young friend,' you must cer- 
 tainly have had something to do with usurers 
 before this. I know these tender-hearted 
 brethren ; they hang together like a secret 
 priesthood. But I would say to you, that 
 the most delectable insight into the so- 
 called human soul would be furnished by a 
 history of bribery. I am acquainted with 
 the different nations and races, I have tried 
 it everywhere, and it has hardly ever been 
 unsuccessful.' 1 
 
 Pranken looked strangely at the man. 
 He had confidence in him; but that he 
 should speak so freely of the bribery of all 
 nations disturbed him somewhat, and it 
 pained him greatly to think that he himself 
 was to be son of such a man. 
 
 Sonnenkamp continued good-humoredly, 
 
 "You evidently entertain the old prejudice 
 that bribery is a bad thing, just as a little 
 while ago usury was regarded to be. It's 
 nothing but a matter of business, and it's a 
 stupid thing for the government to require 
 an oath from persons, that their transac- 
 tions shall not be affected by any receiving 
 of money. As far as I am concerned, it 
 may be, and it usually is, with the judges, 
 only a matter of form ; when it comes to 
 that point, a rich man knows how to get ofF, 
 provided he hasn't foolishly gone too far. 
 It's very curious, that among other nations, 
 among the Romans and the Sclaves, men 
 took the offered ihoney, and, under some 
 form or other, gave an opportunity for 
 competition in bidding ; but among the 
 simpering Germanic people, the women are 
 employed in this business. Of course!. 
 Among no people in the world are so many 
 cows employed in agriculture as among the 
 Germans, and in this business, too, they 
 harness in the cows. Here the lady must- 
 be applied to in extremely gallant style, and 
 I must confess that I would much rather 
 deal with the women, for they keep their 
 word ; there's nothing more common than 
 to give a bribe, and to have the bribee fail 
 to keep his promise, unless another is added 
 just as large. My father " 
 
 Pranken started. For the first time in 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 245 
 
 his life, Sonnenkamp spoke of his father, 
 but he went on quietly, — 
 
 " My father was a connoisseur in the art 
 of bribery, and in Poland his 'way was, to 
 give a man a note for a hundred or a thou- 
 sand dollars, as it might be, but he tore the 
 note in two, kept one part himself and gave 
 the other to the person bribed, surrender- 
 ing his own half only when he had gained 
 his end. You do not think it is necessary 
 to divide thus with the Cabinetsrathin ? " 
 
 Pranken felt hurt to hear a lady of the 
 nobility pointed out and arraigned in this 
 , style. He gave Sonnenkamp the most con- 
 clusive assurances, who said further, — 
 
 "All proceeds in a regular order, and 
 what is designated by the old-fashioned 
 word bribery, is a necessary consequence 
 of an advanced civilization. As soon as a 
 people enters into complex relations, bribery 
 is there, must be there, sometimes open, 
 sometimes concealed; and I know this, 
 that nothing has a greater variety of forms 
 than bribery." 
 
 As Pranken stood there in fixed amaze- 
 ment, Sonnenkamp, taking his arm, con- 
 tinued, — 
 
 "Young friend, it is the same thing 
 whether I buy an agent or a vote for my 
 election as member of Parliament or of 
 Congress, or whether I buy an agent or a 
 vote to make me a noble. In America we 
 are more open about it. Why should not 
 this Cabinetsrath and his spouse make some 
 profit out of their position ? Their position 
 is their whole property and capital. I am 
 glad — it's all in order. In Germany you 
 are obliged to cloak matters over respecta- 
 bly. It's all the same. If you take up the 
 diplomatic career, as I hope you will, I 
 shall be able to give you a good many les- 
 sons.' 1 
 
 Pranken declared himself ready to learn a 
 great deal, but inwardly he had an inex- 
 pressible dread of this man, and this dread 
 changed into contempt. He proposed to 
 himself, if he ever married Manna, to keep 
 away from this man as far as possible. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was so happy in finding a 
 fresh confirmation of his knowledge of men, 
 that he endeavored to impart it to his own 
 son. 
 
 The next morning, as they were leaving 
 the breakfast-table, at which the Cabinets- 
 rathin had been present, he took Roland 
 with him into the park, saying to him, — 
 
 " Look, these noble people ! All a pure 
 cheat ! This Cabinetsrath and his family, 
 ) they are beggars, and I make them persons 
 j of property. Don't let it out, but you ought 
 to know it. They are all a rabble ; great 
 ! and small, high and low, they are all wait- 
 
 ing to have an offer for their souls as they 
 call them. Every one in the world is to be 
 had for money." 
 
 He took delight in dwelling upon this at 
 length ; he had not the remotest conception 
 what a deep commotion and revolution this 
 was exciting in the youth's soul. 
 
 Roland sat speechless, and Sonnenkamp 
 turned over in his mind whether he had acted 
 properly, but soon quieted his doubts. 
 Religion, virtue, all is an illusion. Some 
 
 — this Herr Dournay is one of that number 
 
 — still believe in their illusions, and impose 
 upon themselves and upon the world. It 
 is better, he quieted himself in conclusion, 
 that Roland should know all to be a mere 
 illusion. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A DIFFERENT ATMOSPHERE. 
 
 After the first days, the Mother under- 
 stood what her son meant when he com- 
 plained of the difficulty of maintaining a 
 steady and firm hold upon thought, in the 
 midst of the distractions with which he had 
 to contend, like those upon a journey. In 
 such a house as this, with extensive posses- 
 sions and a great variety of duties, that de- 
 votion of the mind, which is so necessary 
 for the thorough acquisition of any branch of 
 knowledge, is continually interfered with, 
 and it is even difficult, in such relations, not 
 to lose one's self. Without laying out any 
 programme, at any rate without any an- 
 nouncement of one, she resolved to reg- 
 ulate her own method of living ; only when 
 one possesses himself can he have anything 
 to supply to the calls of others. 
 
 Eric and Roland went every day to bid 
 her good-morning, and a consecrated sphere 
 soon encompassed the mother ; whoever 
 approached her acquired, in a degree, a 
 nobler bearing, and pitched his conversa- 
 tion to a musical and well-tuned key. She 
 had sterling good sense, without any claim 
 to originality or genius either in her own 
 eyes or those of others ; her mind was not 
 intuitional but logical, and what she com- 
 prehended and discovered by investigation 
 appeared to her to be necessarily true ; she 
 made as little show of knowledge as of dress, 
 for it is a matter of course that one should 
 be neatly dressed. 
 
 Chasteness, in the highest and purest sig- 
 nification of the word, was the impression 
 which the Mother made, both in regard to 
 her external appearance and her inner be- 
 ing ; she was pure in thought, and pure in 
 feeling ; she had been for thirteen years a 
 lady of the court, and knew the world ; but 
 she retained something of an ideal atmos- 
 
246 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 phere ; she knew vice and believed in vir- 
 tue ; she was quick and cautious, ready 
 to accept the gage of battle and nobly 
 yielding, at the same time. 
 
 If she were externally and superficially 
 compared with Bella, the older lady would 
 be at a disadvantage ; but on a nearer con- 
 sideration, she had something satisfying in 
 her presence and conversation, while Bella 
 was only exciting. 
 
 Bella not only desired to excite attention 
 to her personal appearance and her senti- 
 ments, but she was also fond of proposing 
 subjects for discussion, and propounding the 
 most difficult questions ; she was always 
 putting something forth and making a stir. 
 She gave very cursory and off-hand replies 
 to what was said to her, and could set out 
 in good style what she heard, so as to be 
 extremely taking at the first acquaintance, 
 but a longer familiarity with her showed 
 that it was merely fluent talk. 
 
 The Professorin, on the other hand, made 
 no demands, was grateful for all that was 
 offered, and was ready to lend it serious 
 thought. 
 
 Externally, the ladies could hardly be 
 compared, for the personal appearance of 
 the Professorin was not what would be 
 called distinguished ; she was somewhat 
 plump in figure, of a pale blond complexion, 
 and that fresh purity of look which one sees 
 portrayed in the pictures of well-preserved 
 women of Holland. Her strongest character- 
 istic was a uniform reserve ; she could listen 
 quietly to every communication, and she 
 could withhold her reply, if she had any 
 opinion to express, until she had patiently 
 heard all that was to be said. 
 
 When questions were addressed immedi- 
 ately to her, to which she did not want to 
 give a direct reply, she had the faculty of 
 not seeming to hear them ; and if she were 
 pressed to give a decided reply, she an- 
 swered only just so far as she thought best, 
 never allowing herself to be urged beyond 
 a prescribed limit. 
 
 She soon became the centre of the circle. 
 The fundamental trait which characterized 
 all that she said and did was truthfulness : 
 she never spoke for effect, she never smiled 
 when there was nothing to smile at; she 
 gave to every utterance of her own the nat- 
 ural tone, and to every utterance of others 
 the requisite degree of attention. This 
 truthfulness was not compromised in the 
 least by her reserve, for she never violated 
 the truth in the smallest particular, and it 
 is not necessary to speak out everything that 
 one knows and thinks. This is not crafti- 
 ness ; it is rather the simple dictate of pru- 
 dence, and prudence is a virtue too ; it is 
 
 the same thing as goodness ; nature herself 
 is prudent, that is to say, veiled. 
 
 She was very happy to indulge and culti- 
 vate her fondness for botany by means of 
 Sonnenkamp's splendid collection of plants, 
 and his essentially valuable communications. 
 
 The Mother and Aunt lived together in 
 perfect harmony, and yet were very differ- 
 ent in character ; and as they had very dif- 
 ferent spheres of knowledge in which they 
 found enlivenment, so also they had differ- 
 ent spheres of life. Their amateur-pursuits 
 were the two most beautiful in the whole 
 circle of sciences. The Professorin Avas a 
 botanist, Aunt Claudine an astronomer, 
 sedulously avoiding, indeed, every appear- 
 ance of the bluestocking ; she passed many 
 silent evenings in the tower making obser- 
 vations of her own, generally through a 
 small telescope, without any one's being 
 aware of the fact. 
 
 The Professorin took delight in spending 
 several hours every day in the hot-houses, 
 and among the rare imported plants ; and 
 when Sonnenkamp one day showed her his 
 method of training fruit-trees, she did not 
 express admiration and astonishment as 
 other people did, but exhibited a great pro- 
 ficiency in the knowledge of the new French 
 art of gardening, and remarked how pe- 
 culiar it was that the restless French peo- 
 ple, when they withdrew from the whirl of 
 active life, should devote themselves with 
 such tender and persistent care to the cul- 
 tivation of fruit. Sonnenkamp's counte- 
 nance gleamed with pleasure, when sh*e 
 maintained that in orcharding, as he prac- 
 tised it, there was the unfolding of a talent 
 for military generalship, inasmuch as he 
 was called upon to decide what part of the 
 fruit should be allowed to mature, and 
 what should be sacrificed and removed in 
 its unripe state in order that the rest might 
 thrive. 
 
 Sonnenkamp expressed himself as very 
 much obliged for the compliment, but he 
 smiled inwardly, thinking that he saw 
 through the fine courtly breeding ; that this 
 lady, before she came there, had read up 
 in his favorite pursuit, in order to render 
 herself agreeable to him. He received this 
 homage in an apparently natural way, as if 
 he regarded it as sincere ; but he deter- 
 mined not to allow himself to be taken in 
 by any such arts. 
 
 He meant to offset politeness with po- 
 liteness ; and he hastened to place every- 
 thing in a friendly way at the disposal of 
 the Mother and Aunt Claudine. 
 
 Towards Frau Ceres the Professorin soon 
 established a definite line of conduct, al- 
 lowing her to claim but a limited portion of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 247 
 
 her time; and now Fran Ceres went into 
 other rooms than her own apartments, which 
 she had never done before, and she fre- 
 quently sent to ask the Mother if she might 
 pay her a visit ; the request was sometimes 
 granted and sometimes refused. 
 
 Frau Ceres soon felt her mental influence, 
 for she was always interested in some 
 thought or other ; she was like a priestess 
 whose vocation it was to cherish perpet- 
 ually a little flame upon an altar. When 
 Frau Ceres was eager to make this and 
 that inquiry about life at Court, the Pro- 
 fessorin was able, in an unlooked-for way, 
 to arouse her to think, and take an inter- 
 est in general matters. 
 
 The Aunt, who was very reserved in her 
 manners, brought a new element of life into 
 the house. The grand-piano in the music- 
 saloon, that had lain so long idle, now sent 
 forth clear and brilliant tones ; and Roland, 
 who had wholly neglected musical practice, 
 entered into it with zest, and became the 
 aunt's scholar. The house, formerly called 
 dry by Eric because it was void of music, 
 was now refreshed and steeped in harmony ; 
 it was a cheerful time with the new guests. 
 Sonnenkamp's countenance acquired an 
 expression of satisfaction such as it had 
 never worn before, when Frau Ceres, sit- 
 ting by him in the music-saloon, said.. — 
 
 "I cannot conceive how it used to be 
 before these noble ladies were here." 
 
 One day, after Aunt Claudine had played 
 beautifully, and had repeated a piece twice 
 Jt Eric's request, Frau Ceres said to the 
 Mother : — 
 
 "I envy you, that you can so compre- 
 hend and enjoy all this." 
 
 She evidently plumed herself upon this 
 little formula learned by heart, but the 
 Professorin unintentionally stripped off 
 this pretty adornment by saying : — 
 
 " Each one has his own satisfaction, 
 either in nature or in art, if he is only true 
 to himself. It is not necessary to under- 
 stand and know a thing thoroughly before 
 one can derive pleasure from it. I take 
 delight in these mountains, without knowing 
 how high they are, and what strata they are 
 composed of, and many other things that 
 men of science are acquainted with. So 
 you ran take pleasure in music. Endeavor 
 first of all to get the simple truth, and try 
 after nothing farther, and everything else 
 will be yours. 11 
 
 No one imagined, not even Frau Ceres 
 herself, that she went out of the music-sa- 
 loon to-day a different being ; for no one is 
 able to say what word will have a direct 
 influence upon a thirsting, aspiring, and re- 
 ceptive heart and mind. Frau Ceres was 
 
 not conscious of the real change in herself ; 
 without learning, without acquirements, 
 one can enter into the joys of life and of 
 knowledge through one's own natural sus- 
 ceptibilities. 
 
 The quiet, healthful life of the house was 
 suddenly broken in upon ; a carriage rattled 
 on the gravel of the courtyard ; a silken 
 train rustled : Bella and her husband made 
 their appearance. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A DOUBLE GAME. 
 
 Like a bit of a home in a foreign land 
 comes a meeting with friends among new 
 surroundings, and the visit of Bella and 
 Clodwig was a true pleasure to Frau Dour- 
 nay ; Bella embraced her rather impetuous- 
 ly, while Clodwig took her hand in both of 
 his. 
 
 " But where is Eric? 11 asked Bella very 
 soon, holding the Aunt's hand fast, as if she 
 must cling to something. 
 
 With an uneasy glance first at Clodwig, 
 then at Bella, the Mother answered that it 
 was a rule not to allow the study-hours 
 to be interrupted even by so pleasant a 
 family occurrence as their welcome visit; 
 she emphasized the word family, and Son- 
 nenkamp, acknowledging it with a bow, 
 said that an exception might be made to-day, 
 but Clodwig himself begged that this should 
 not be. Bella dropped the Aunt's hand, 
 and stood with downcast eyes, while the 
 Professor's widow watched her closely. 
 
 Bella looked fresh and animated ; she 
 was in full dress, and wore a large cape of 
 sky-blue silk, under which her bare arm 
 was seen in all its roundness. 
 
 They went into the garden, and Sonnen- 
 kamp was pleased to hear Frau Dournay 
 explaining his system of horticulture, but he 
 left them in order to announce their visit to 
 his wife, wishing to use every effort to pre- 
 vent her declaring herself ill. 
 
 Bella walked with the Mother, and Clod- 
 wig with Aunt Claudine, with whom he was 
 soon in animated conversation. The Aunt, 
 who was an accomplished piano player, was 
 herself something like a piano, upon which 
 children or artists can play, but which, if 
 no one wished to do so, remains quietly in 
 the background. 
 
 Bella asked Frau Dournay many ques- 
 tions as to the impression which all the 
 family made upon her, but she received 
 only indirect answers : she talked much her- 
 self ; her cheeks glowed, she let her cape 
 fall a little, and her beautiful full shoulders 
 were seen. 
 
 " It's a pity that Clodwig didn't know 
 
248 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 your sister-in-law earlier," she suddenly 
 said. 
 
 "He did know her well, and, unfor- 
 tunately for herself, she was, as you know, 
 a much-admired belle at court; but that 
 was long before your time. 11 
 
 Bella was silent ; Frau Dournay threw a 
 quick searching glance at her. What was 
 passing within her ? what did this restless 
 fluttering from one subject to another 
 mean ? 
 
 Eric and Roland came; Bella quickly 
 drew her cape over her shoulders again, 
 and folded her arms tightly under it, hardly 
 giving Eric the tips of her fingers. 
 
 Roland was extremely lively, but Eric 
 seemed very serious ; whenever he looked 
 at Bella, he turned away his eyes again di- 
 rectly. She congratulated him on his 
 mother's arrival, and said, — 
 
 " I think if a stranger met you, even in 
 travelling, he would feel that you are still 
 happy enough to have a mother ; and what a 
 mother she is { A man seems to lose a 
 nameless fragrance when his mother is lost 
 to him." 
 
 Bella said this with a tone of feeling, 
 and yet her mouth wore a peculiar smile, 
 and her eyes seemed to seek applause for 
 these ideas. 
 
 Sonnenkamp joined them, and, stroking 
 his chin with an air of satisfaction, asked 
 the ladies to come to his wife, who felt 
 quite revived by a visit from such guests. 
 He proposed that the gentlemen should 
 drive with him to the castle, to take a view 
 of the progress of the building, and of the 
 place where the Roman antiquities had 
 been found. Bella merrily upbraided Son- 
 nenkamp for robbing her of her pleasant 
 guests, then she went with the ladies to the 
 garden-parlor, while the gentlemen pro- 
 ceeded to the castle. Frau Ceres was soon 
 ready to go with them to the music-room, 
 where the Aunt readily consented to play to 
 them ; Bella sat between Frau Dournay and 
 Frau Ceres, while Fräulein Perini stood 
 near the piano. 
 
 When the first piece came to an end, 
 Bella asked : — 
 
 "Fraulein Dournay, do you ever play 
 accompaniments for your nephew?" 
 
 The Aunt answered in the negative. 
 Again the Mother threw a quick look at 
 Bella, who seemed to be thinking con- 
 stantly of Eric, and not to be able, nor in- 
 deed to wish, to conceal it. While Fraulein 
 Dournay was playing again, Bella said to 
 the mother : — 
 
 "You must give me something of your- 
 self ; let me have your sister-in-law at 
 Wolfsgarten." 
 
 " I have no right to dispose of my 
 sister. But, pardon me, a word spoken 
 while she is playing annoys her, though 
 she makes no claim for herself in any 
 other respect." 
 
 Bella was silent, and Frau Dournay also ; 
 but while listening to a refreshing bit 
 of Mozart's music, their thoughts took 
 very different paths. What Bella's were 
 could hardly be defined ; her whole being 
 was thrilling with joy and pain, renunciation 
 and defiance. The Professorin owned that 
 her instinctive perceptions were confirmed, 
 though she felt as if they left a stain upon 
 herself. 
 
 When the piece was finished, Bella said: 
 " Ah, Mozart is a happy being; hard as 
 his life may have been, he was happy 
 always, and he still makes others happy 
 whenever they listen to him ; even his sor- 
 row and mourning have a certain harmoni- 
 ous serenity. Did your husband love music 
 too ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; he often said that men in 
 modern times express in music that imagina- 
 tive romance of the human heart which 
 the ancients wove into their myths. Music 
 transports us into a world far removed from 
 all palpable and visible existence, and 
 transports us waking into the land of 
 dreams." 
 
 Täiey went out upon the balcony, and 
 played with the parrots ; Bella told one of 
 them a marvellous story of a cousin at Wolfs- 
 garten, which lived in a wonderful cage, 
 sometimes flying off into the woods ; but it wai 
 too gentlemanly to get its own living there, 
 and always came back to its golden cage. 
 
 Bella's cheeks burned hotter and hotter ; 
 her lips trembled, and all at once it occurred 
 to her that she must settle the matter then. 
 She spoke to Mother and Aunt so earnestly, 
 and yet with such childlike entreaties, that 
 they at last agreed that the Aunt should go 
 to her, within a few days, and remain as 
 her guest. 
 
 " You will see," she said, in low but half 
 triumphant tone to the mother, " Fräulein 
 Dournay will be Clodwig's best friend ; they 
 are exactly made for each other." 
 
 Frau Dournay looked fixedly at her. 
 Has it come to this, that the wife wishes to 
 give a compensation to her husband ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A TROUBLED BUT HOPEFUL MOTHER. 
 
 The ladies withdrew to dress for din- 
 ner. Frau Dournay had let clown her 
 long gray hair, and sat some time speechless 
 in her dressing-room, with her hands folded 
 in her lap. It seemed to her as if her brain 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 249 
 
 had received a heavy blow from what she 
 had become convinced of by unmistakable 
 indications. Her heart contracted, and her 
 tears forced themselves into her eyes, 
 though they would not fall. Was it for this 
 that a chiid was cherished, guarded, and 
 nurtured by all that was best, that he might 
 end thus ? No, not end, — begin an endless 
 entanglement which must lead to utter ruin. 
 Was it for this that a mind was endowed 
 with all the treasures of knowledge, that 
 they might be turned into toys, and masks, 
 and cloaks of baseness ? 
 
 " O my God, my God ! " she moaned, and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 Before her mind's eye everything seemed 
 laid waste, — the pure, free, upright, noble 
 nature of Eric, and her own as well. She 
 could feel no more joy in the glance, the 
 words, the learning, of her son ; he had used 
 them all for falsehood and treachery. 
 
 Now the tears fell from her eyes, as she 
 thought what her husband would have said 
 to this. How often had he lamented that 
 every one said : ' ' The world is bad and 
 totally corrupt ; why should I alone separate 
 myself and deny myself its pleasures ? And 
 so every one became an upholder of the em- 
 pire of sin." But how the ruin embraces 
 everything ! This noble-hearted Clodwig, 
 with his unexampled friendship — they must 
 meet him, greet him, talk with him, and yet 
 wish him dead. Shame ! And he goes on 
 teaching the boy, teaching him to rule him- 
 self, and to work with noble aim for others, 
 while he himself — oh horrible ! And this 
 passionate woman who could not endure 
 to devote herself to the best of men, what 
 was to become of her ? And this Sonnen- 
 kamp, and his wife, and Fräulein Perini, and 
 the Priest? " Look," they would all cry, 
 " Look ! these are the liberal souls ! These 
 are the people who are always talking about 
 humanity, and beneficently work for it ; and 
 meanwhile they cherish the lowest passions : 
 they shrink from no treachery, no lies, no 
 hypocrisy ! " 
 
 Oh, these unhappy wives, these wives 
 who call themselves unhappy ! There runs 
 through our time a great lie concerning the 
 unhappy wife. The fact is this : girls want 
 a husband of wealth and standing, and a 
 young and brilliant lover besides. Why 
 will they not marry poor men ? Because 
 they can give them no fine establishment. 
 And these men, who offer themselves as lov- 
 ers, — 
 
 "Lovers! 11 she exclaimed aloud. Frau 
 Dournay sprang quickly up and rang the 
 bell violently, for she heard the carnage 
 drive into the court. She told the servant 
 to ask her son to come to her directly. 
 
 Eric came, looking ' much excited ; he 
 gazed in astonishment at his mother, whom 
 he had never seen looking as she did now, 
 with her long hair hanging loose, and her 
 face looking gray like her hair. 
 
 " Sit down,' 1 she said. 
 
 Eric seated himself. His mother pressed 
 her hand to her brow. Could she warn her 
 son plainly ? What can a mother, what can 
 parents do, if a child, grown up and free 
 from control, wanders from the right path? 
 And if he has already wandered, can he still 
 be honest ? He mustlie ; it would be double 
 baseness if he did not shield himself with 
 lies, — himself and her ! 
 
 " My dear son," she began, in a con- 
 strained tone, " bear with me if I feel lost 
 in this restless life, which has broken in 
 upon my loneliness and quiet. I wonder at 
 your calm strength — But no, I won't speak 
 of that now. What was I going to say to 
 you? Ah, yes, the Countess Wolfsgar- 
 ten, the wife of our friend," — she laid a 
 quiet but marked emphasis on this word, 
 and paused a moment, then continued, 
 " wishes to have Aunt Claudine go and re- 
 main with her." 
 
 " That is good ! that's excellent !" 
 
 " Indeed ! and why ? Do you forget that 
 it 'will leave me quite alone in a strange 
 house ?" 
 
 " But you are never alone, dear mother. 
 And Aunt Claudine can find a noble vocation 
 at Wolfsgarten ; Countess Bella is full of 
 unrest, in spite of all the beauty which en- 
 compasses her life ; a strong, 'true nature 
 like Aunt Claudine's, steadfast, and bring- 
 ing peace to others, will soften and compose 
 her as nothing else in the world could do. 
 I acknowledge the sacrifice that you must 
 make, but a good work will be accomplished 
 by it." 
 
 His mother's eyes grew less troubled ; 
 her face quivered as from an electric shock, 
 as she said smiling : — 
 
 " At last we have all found our mission, 
 we are all to be teachers. Let me ask you 
 how Countess Bella, our friend's wife, ap- 
 pears to you." 
 
 A two-edged sword went through Eric's 
 heart ; he saw how he was bringing a weight 
 upon his mother's spirit. And perhaps 
 Bella had betrayed by some passionate 
 word a feeling which must not exist, and he 
 appeared as a sinner and a traitor ! There 
 was a short pause ; then his mother asked, 
 with a sudden change of expression, — 
 
 " Why do you not answer me ? " 
 
 " Ah, mother, I am still much more inex- 
 perienced than I thought myself ; I cannot 
 put absolute trust in my judgment of people. 
 I have no knowledge of human nature, 
 
250 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 though my father used to say that psych- 
 ology was my forte. It may be so. I can 
 follow a given trait of charactor back to its 
 remote causes, and forward to its conse- 
 quences, but I have no true knowledge of 
 human nature." 
 
 The Mother listened quietly, with down- 
 cast eyes, to this long preamble, in which 
 Eric was trying to gain mastery of himself, 
 but when he stopped, she said : — 
 
 " You can at least say something, even 
 if it is not very clear-sighted." 
 
 "Well, then, I think that in this highly- 
 gifted woman a struggle is going on be- 
 tween worldliness' and renunciation of the 
 world ; between the desire to appear and 
 the longing really to be. It seems to me as 
 if something had been repressed, checked, 
 in the development of her life, and as if she 
 were not yet quite ripe for the beautiful 
 work of making life's evening full and per- 
 fect to so noble a man as Clodwig." 
 
 " Yes, he is a noble man, and to wrong 
 him would be like the desecration of a tem- 
 ple,' 1 said his mother significantly. 
 
 The words came out sharply, and she went 
 on : " You have judged rightly, the Prank- 
 ens are a presumptuous and daring race. 
 It was believed that Bella would marry her 
 music-master, with whom she played a great 
 deal ; indeed she played with him in a double 
 sense. But that's not to the purpose. An- 
 apparently insignificant event brought about 
 in Bella a derangement — I don't know 
 what to call it — a sort of overturn in her 
 character. In her youth, while she might 
 still be considered young, — she was twenty- 
 two or twenty-three — she had to see her 
 younger sister married before her ; she bore 
 it with the greatest composure, but I think 
 that, from that time, a change came over 
 her difficult to be described ; she had sud- 
 denly grown old, older than she would con- 
 fess to herself ;. there was something of the 
 matron about her. This was affected, but a 
 bitter tone was real. Her sister died after 
 a few years, leaving no children. All these 
 circumstances brought out something dis- 
 cordant in Bella ; she really hated her sister, 
 and yet behaved as if she were pining for 
 her. She had no mother, or rather, she had 
 one whose highest triumph was to hear 
 people say, 4 Your daughter is handsome, 
 but not nearly so handsome as you were 
 when you were a girl.' To be handsome 
 is the chief pride of the Prankens. Bella is 
 unfortunately a development of that un- 
 happy class of society, in which people go 
 to the theatre only to satirize and ridicule 
 the performance, to church only to make a 
 formal reverence to the mercy of God ; in 
 which women are held in low esteem unless 
 
 they are handsome, and know how, as age 
 comes on, to intrigue, and to affect piety. 
 Such a being can say to herself : I have in 
 the course of my life adorned with flowers 
 eight or ten hundred yards of canvas, for 
 perfectly useless sofa-cushions. Is that a 
 life worth living ? Now she has no chil- 
 dren, no natural fixed duties — " 
 
 " And just for these reasons," interrupted 
 Eric, " Aunt Claudine, without knowing it, 
 will have a softening and tranquillizing in- 
 fluence ; her calm nature, which never has 
 to renounce, because it never longs for any 
 change, seems just chosen for the work. 
 However highly I value Frau Bella, our 
 friend's wife, for herself, we must think 
 first of all that we are fulfilling a duty to 
 the noble Clodwig ; it will establish anew 
 and increase the purity and beauty of his 
 life." 
 
 " Well, Aunt Claudine is going to Wolfs- 
 garten ; and now leave me, my dear son, — 
 but no, I must tell you something, though 
 it may seem childish. When I saw you 
 running so fast through the garden to-day, 
 I thought of your father's pleasure when he 
 had been on a mountain excursion with 
 you ; and once, when you were just eleven, 
 when you had been in Switzerland with 
 him, he said on coming home, that his chief 
 delight had been in seeing you run up and 
 down the mountains without once slipping ; 
 and you never did get a fall, though your 
 younger brother was never without some 
 bump or bruise." 
 
 It was with a glance of double meaning 
 that she looked at Eric, as she passed her 
 hand over his face. 
 
 " But we have talked enough; now go. 
 I must dress for dinner." 
 
 She kissed his forehead, and he left her ; 
 but outside the door, he stopped and said, 
 with folded hands : — 
 
 " I thank you, Eternal Powers, that you 
 have left me my mother : she will save us> 
 all." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 STATISTICS OF LOVE. 
 
 When they assembled again at the villa, 
 the Doctor chanced to be there. Or was 
 it not mere chance ? Did he desire to note 
 accurately, once for all, the relation between 
 Eric and Bella ? 
 
 He saluted the Professorin with great 
 respect ; she said she must confess that 
 her husband, who made a point of mention- 
 ing frequently his distant friends, had 
 never uttered, to the best of her recollec- 
 tion, the name of Doctor Richard. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 251 
 
 ** And yet I was a friend of his," cried 
 the Doctor in a loud tone. 
 
 After a while, he said in a low voice: 
 "I must be honest with you, and tell you 
 that I was only a little acquainted with 
 your husband ; but your father-in-law was 
 my teacher. I introduced myself, how- 
 ever, to your son as the friend of your hus- 
 band, because this seemed to me the readi- 
 est way to be of service to him, exposed as 
 he is here, in the house and in its connec- 
 tions, to a variety of perils. 11 
 
 The Professorin warmly expressed her 
 obligation to him, but her heart contracted 
 again. This man had evidently alluded to 
 Bella. 
 
 The "Artist who had painted the portrait 
 of the Wine-count's daughter was there ; 
 and soon the Priest came too, and regret 
 was expressed that the Major could not 
 be present, having gone to celebrate St. 
 John's day in the neighborhood ; he con- 
 sidered everything appertaining to the 
 Masonic order in the nature of a military 
 duty. 
 
 The company in general were in a genial 
 mood. The Doctor asked the painter how 
 he got along with his picture of Potiphar's 
 wife. 
 
 The Artist invited the company to visit 
 shortly the studio, which Herr von Endlich 
 had fitted up for him for the summer' 
 months. 
 
 " Strange ! " cried the Doctor. " We al- 
 ways speak of Potiphar's wife, and we 
 don't know what her own name was ; she 
 takes the name of her husband, and you 
 artists don't refrain from painting nude 
 beauties with more or less fidelity. The 
 chaste Joseph presents always an extremely 
 contemptible figure, and perhaps because 
 the world thinks that the chaste Joseph is 
 always a more or less contemptible figure. 
 ..Eneas and Dido are just such another con- 
 stellation, but iEneas is not looked upon 
 in so contemptuous a way as the Egyptian 
 Joseph." 
 
 It was painful to hear the Doctor talk in 
 this style. 
 
 The Priest said : — 
 
 "This narrative in the Old Testament is 
 the correlative to that of the adulteress in 
 the New ; and after a thousand years, the 
 harmony is rendered complete. The Old 
 Testament strikes the discordant note ; the 
 New Testament brings it to the accordant 
 pitch." 
 
 Clodwig was exceedingly delighted with 
 this exposition ; there was something of the 
 student-nature in him, and he was always 
 enlivened and made happy by any new 
 
 view, and any enlargement of his knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 " Herr Priest, and you also, Frau Pro- 
 fessorin," cried the Doctor, who was to-day 
 more talkative than ever, " with your great 
 experience of life, you two could render a 
 great service to a friend of mine." 
 
 " I ? 11 the priest asked. 
 
 " And I? " asked the Professorin. 
 
 " Yes, you. Our century has entered 
 upon a wholly new investigation of the laws 
 of the world; and things, circumstances, 
 sentiments, which one would not believe 
 could ever be caught, are now bagged in 
 the statistical net, and must be shown to be 
 conformable to laws. Nothing has been 
 esteemed freer and more incalculable, even 
 incomprehensible, than love and matri- 
 mony, and yet there are now exact statis- 
 tical tables of these ; there is an iron law, 
 by which the number of divorces in a year 
 is determined. My friend now goes a step 
 farther, and from* facts of his own ob- 
 servation has deduced the conclusion, that 
 marriages in which the man is considerably 
 older than the wife, present a greater aver- 
 age of happy unions than so-called love- 
 matches ; now, Herr Priest, and you also, 
 Frau Professorin, think over the list of 
 persons you are acquainted with, and ask 
 yourselves whether you find any confirma- 
 tion of this law." 
 
 The Professorin was silent, but the 
 Priest said that religion alone consecrated 
 marriage ; religion alone gave humility, 
 which was the only sure basis of all beauti- 
 ful intercourse between men themselves, and 
 also between man and God. 
 
 The Priest succeeded, continuing the 
 conversation, in diverting it entirely from 
 the subject so flippantly introduced. 
 
 Sonnenkamp stated that the Major wished 
 to have a grand masonic celebration in the 
 spacious knight's hall of the castle, when it 
 was completed ; he asked in what relation 
 the reigning Prince stood towards Masonry. 
 
 Clodwig replied that he himself had for- 
 merly belonged to the order, and that the 
 Prince was at present a protector of the 
 brotherhood, without being a member. 
 
 The conversation was carried on in 
 groups, and they left the table in a cheerful 
 mood. The Doctor took leave. 
 
 It was now settled that the Aunt should 
 go to Wolfsgarten ; and, in order to give 
 her time to make preparation for leaving, 
 Clodwig and Bella were to remain over 
 night and take her in the carriage with 
 them on the morrow. 
 
 Bella was in very good spirits, and, on 
 Sonnenkamp' s offering to present her with a 
 
252 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 parrot, requested that it might be the wild- 
 est one, which she promised to tame. 
 
 In the evening Roland urged them Re- 
 take a sail with him on the Rhine. The 
 Aunt and Bella went together; Fräulein 
 Perini withdrew with Frau Ceres ; the Pro- 
 fessorin remained with Clodwig, and Son- 
 nenkump excused himself to forward some 
 unfinished letters. 
 
 On the boat there were laughter and mer- 
 riment, in which Bella joined, dipping her 
 hand into the water and playing with her 
 wedding-ring, which she moved up and down 
 on the finger, repeatedly immersing her 
 hand in the Rhine. 
 
 " Do you understand what the Doctor 
 was aiming at ? " she asked Eric. 
 
 " If I had been willing to understand, 
 I should have been obliged to feel offended," 
 he replied. 
 
 " Now we are speaking of the Doctor,' 1 
 resumed Bella, "there is one thing I must 
 tell you that I have forgotten to mention 
 before. The Doctor is doughty, unadulter- 
 ated virtue ; but this rough virtue once 
 wanted to pay court to me, and I showed 
 him how ridiculous he made himself. It 
 may very well be, that the man doesn't 
 speak well of me. You ought to know the 
 reason." 
 
 Eric was moved in his inmost soul. 
 What does this mean ? May this be a 
 wily move to neutralize the physician's 
 opinion ? He could not determine. 
 
 After a while, Bella asked, — 
 
 " Can you tell me why I am now so often 
 low-spirited ? " 
 
 " The more highly-endowed natures, 
 Aristotle says, are always melancholy," 
 replied Eric. 
 
 Bella caught her breath ; that was alto- 
 gether too pedantic an answer to suit her. 
 
 They did not succeed in keeping up any 
 continued conversation, but Bella said at 
 one time abruptly to Eric, — 
 
 "The visit here of your mother vexes 
 me." 
 
 "What! vexes you?" 
 
 "Yes, it wounds me that this man with 
 his gold should be able to change the 
 position of people, as he does." 
 
 Eric had abundant matter of thought in 
 this casual remark. 
 
 " You have the happiness to be greatly 
 beloved," said Bella suddenly. Eric looked 
 up alarmed, glancing towards Roland, and 
 Bella continued aloud, — 
 
 " Your mother loves you deeply." After 
 a time, she said in a low tone to herself, but 
 Eric heard it, — 
 
 " Me no one loves ; I know why, — no, 
 I don't know why." 
 
 Eric looked her full in the face, then 
 seized an oar and made the water fly with 
 his rowing. 
 
 Meanwhile, the mother and Clodwig sat 
 together, and the former expressed her joy 
 that Eric had been thrown into the society 
 of men of such well-tried experience ; in 
 former times, a man could have completed 
 his culture by intercourse with women ; 
 but now, that end could be attained only by 
 intercourse with noble men. 
 
 They soon passed into those mutual un- 
 foldings of views which are like a perpetual 
 greeting, when two persons have pursued 
 the same spiritual ends apart from each 
 other, in wholy different .relations of life, 
 and vet with the same essential tendencies. 
 
 The Professorin had known Clodwig's 
 first wife, and recalled her to remembrance 
 in affectionate words. Clodwig looked 
 round to see if Bella was near, for he had 
 never spoken before her of his former wife. 
 It was pure calumny, when it was said that 
 he had promised Bella never to speak of 
 the deceased, for Clodwig was not so weak, 
 nor Bella so hard, as this ; it was only out 
 of consideration for her, that he never did 
 it. 
 
 In low, half-whispered tones, the conver- 
 sation flowed on ; and finding in each other 
 the same fundamental trait, they, agreed 
 that it was happy for human beings here 
 below to pass lightly over what was un- 
 toward in their lot, and retain in lively 
 remembrance only what was felicitous. 
 
 " Yes," said the Professorin in confirma- 
 tion, " my husband used often to say, that a 
 Lethe stream flows through the soul buoy- 
 ant with life, so that the past is forgotten." 
 
 It was a season of purest interchange of 
 thought, and of true spiritual communion, 
 for Clodwig and the mother. They were 
 like two beings in the spirit-world, survey- 
 ing calmly and clearly what had passed in 
 this state of existence. There was nothing 
 painful in the mutual awakening of their 
 recollections, but rather an internal percep- 
 tion of the inexhaustible fulness of life: on 
 this elevated height the sound of desire and 
 plaint was no longer heard, and the individ- 
 ual life with all its personal relations was 
 dissolved into the one element of universal 
 being. 
 
 But now there was a diversion, and Clod- 
 wig expressed regret at having lived so 
 much a mere spectator, and that he had, 
 without throwing himself into the great cur- 
 rent of influence, waited passively in the 
 confident expectation that the idea which 
 was stirring in the world would accomplish, 
 of itself, -its own grand fulfilment. He 
 expressed his satisfaction that the young 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 253 
 
 men of to-day were of a different stamp, 
 and that Eric was to him an inspiring rep- 
 resentative of youth as thoughtful as it was 
 bold, as moderate as it was active. 
 
 Bella entered just as they happened to 
 refer again to the statistics of love. She 
 was pale, but Clodwig did not perceive it ; 
 sitting down near them in silence, she re- 
 quested them to continue their conversa- 
 tion ; but neither the Professorin nor Clod- 
 wig resumed the interrupted theme. 
 
 Clodwig spoke of Aunt Claudine, asked 
 after her favorite pursuits, and was glad to 
 own a fine telescope, which she could use at 
 Wolfsgarten. 
 
 After a brief rest, Bella left them and 
 went into the park. 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A STRUGGLE BETWEEN DUTY AND PASSION. 
 
 "I must speak with you this evening in 
 the park, under the weeping ash," Eric had 
 said to Bella as they were getting out of the 
 boat. 
 
 " This evening?" she asked. 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And in the park, under the weeping 
 ash ? " 
 ' 'Yes." 
 
 She had of her own accord placed her 
 arm in his, and they walked together in 
 silence to the villa ; then she relinquished 
 his arm, and went straight to Clodwig and 
 the Mother. 
 
 She knew not what she desired here, but 
 she was happy, or rather soothed, when she 
 saw them sitting so confidentially together. 
 Yes, she thought, every one who gives an 
 ear to him, and returns a stimulating reply 
 occasionally, is as much to him as I. 
 
 She rose and went into the park; she 
 walked about restlessly,, knowing that Eric 
 must get released from Roland, in order to 
 keep the appointment with her. But she 
 had no idea how hard it was for him to 
 effect this ; not so much because Roland 
 was not obedient, and mindful every hour 
 of the task set him, but because Eric was 
 inwardly disturbed that he was obliged to 
 assign to his pupil as a duty and a theme 
 some noble thought, some lesson, some sub- 
 ject of study, merely to become temporarily 
 freed from his presence. The book he gave 
 him, the place he selected for him to read 
 until his return, appeared to him perverted 
 to a wrong use, dishonored and profaned ; 
 yet nothing else could be doae. It was a 
 bitter experience, but it was the last time ; 
 he would come out from this final interview 
 pure and strong, and have a plain and 
 straight path before him. 
 
 He became -composed with this thought, 
 and entered the park. He found Bella on 
 the seat upon the height ; she had evidently 
 been weeping freely. 
 
 Hearing his step, she removed the hand- 
 kerchief from her eyes. "You have been 
 weeping? " 
 
 "Yes, for your mother, for myself, for 
 us all ! O, how often have I heard your 
 mother ridiculed, blamed, pitied, and de- 
 spised, for following the impulse of her 
 heart and the man of her choice. For 
 some time the saying was, To live on love 
 and eight hundred thalers. She is now 
 more highly favored than any of us. With 
 blessed satisfaction she surveys now the 
 past, and looks forward to the future in her 
 son, and what are her deriders ? Puppets, 
 dolls, — gossipping, music-making, dancing, 
 chattering, scandal-making dolls ! They 
 turn up their noses at the man who has be- 
 come so rich on the labor of slaves, and our 
 aristocratic fathers sell their children, and 
 the children sell themselves, for a high rank 
 in society, for horses and carriages, for finery 
 and villas. The nobility, the poor nobility, 
 is the inherited curse from ancestral pride, 
 from slavery to the ancestral idea ! A peas- 
 ant Woman, who gleans barefooted in the 
 stubble-field, is happier and freer than the 
 lady who is driven through the streets in her 
 carriage, leaning back and cooling herself 
 with her fan." 
 
 " I have one request," began Eric in a 
 constrained voice ; "will you bestow upon 
 me one hour of your life ? " 
 
 " One hour ? " 
 
 " Yes. Will you listen to me ? " 
 
 " I am attentive." As she gazed at him, 
 her eye-brows seemed to grow larger and 
 larger, the corners of her mouth to be drawn 
 slowly down, and her lips to open as if 
 parched with a feverish heat ; nothing was 
 wanting but the wings upon her head, and 
 the snaky heads knotted under her chin, to 
 give the perfect Medusa-look. 
 
 Eric was for an instant petrified ; then 
 collecting himself, he continued : — 
 
 "Two questions now rend my heart; 
 one is, Has the violence of love taken from 
 me life, study, and the power of abstract 
 thought ? The other is, Must a child of hu- 
 manity, because destiny has once decided 
 for him, become a lifelong victim to this 
 determination ? And these two questions 
 resolve themselves into one, just as those 
 snaky heads form one knot under the chin 
 of the Medusa." 
 
 "Go on!" urged Bella. 
 
 " Well, then, there was one hour when I 
 would like to have said to the beautiful wife 
 sitting before me, ( I love thee ! ' and I would 
 
254 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 have embraced and kissed her, but then," — 
 Eric pressed his hand upon his heart, and 
 gnashed his teeth, — " but that hour over, 
 I should have put a bullet through my 
 brain ! " 
 
 Bella let her eyes fall, and Eric went on : 
 "One hour, and then my peace was gone; 
 I had nothing left. I could not sleep. I 
 could not think. This could not last. I 
 lost myself, and what did I' gain ? I saw 
 all that this love devastated, and could it 
 be love? No. Could I take it lightly like 
 others, it would be light. But why is this 
 the only thing to be made light of? Why 
 is not the ideal of life also to be made light 
 of, and why is not all feeling only a plausi- 
 ble lie ? » 
 
 In a hoarse voice lie added : — 
 
 " But I do not believe that love has the 
 right to lay everything in ruins ; but then 
 perhaps it may be said, it is not real love. 
 Pluck up heart, look at the world for your- 
 self, see how pleasantly, respectably, and 
 shrewdly it lies, the women tricked out with 
 artificial beauty, and the men Avith superfi- 
 cial knowledge. Do you see the abyss on 
 whose brink I stood ? And here I said to 
 myself, We are placed in the world in order 
 to live, and knowledge and culture have 
 been given us that we may get from them 
 life and not death. And how could I look 
 a noble man in the face, how could I look 
 up to the sun in heaven, how was I to edu- 
 cate a human being, to stand erect in the 
 world, to abhor crime, to discern the holy; 
 how was I to take the word mother upon my 
 lips, with the consciousness that I was my- 
 self the vilest of all, and that there was no 
 moment in which I, and another also, must 
 not tremble, and be filled with cowardly 
 fear and despair. w 
 
 Eric paused and placed his hand on his 
 forehead ; his voice choked, tears stood in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Go on ! " cried Bella, "I am listen- 
 ing." 
 
 " It is well. This once do I speak thus 
 to you, and only this once. You ha\;e 
 courage to hear the truth. Our- relation is 
 not love, must not be love ; for love cannot 
 thrive on murder, hypocrisy, and treachery. 
 I clasp your hand — no, I clasp it not, for 
 I know i could not let it go, if I did. Here 
 1 stand — 1 speak to you, you listen to me 
 — I speak to you, as if I were miles away, 
 as if I were dead ; there must be distance, 
 there must be death, before there is any 
 life." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " interposed Bella. 
 She looked at Eric's hand as if he were 
 aboKt to draw a weapon from his bosom. 
 Breathing deep, he went on: "It must 
 
 be possible for human beings who have been 
 made conscious of where they are, to find 
 again the right path from which they have 
 wandered. My friend ! you are happy if 
 you understand the happiness, and you can 
 and must learn to appreciate it ; and I am 
 happy. Howsoever my heart may be shat- 
 tered, I know I shall come to understand 
 my duty and my happiness. I have been, 
 heretofore, so proud, I thought I had mas- 
 tered the world and brought it under my 
 feet, and so did you ; and that we have met, 
 is to be not for our destruction, but rather 
 for our awakening into a new life. 
 
 " I foresee that the days will come when 
 we shall coldly extend to each other our 
 hands, and say, or even not say, though we 
 feel and know it, that there was one pure 
 hour, an hour won by a severe struggle, 
 when we were exalted in our own souls, 
 and because we held each other so highly, 
 we did not debase nor degrade ourselves. 
 This hour is hard, is overwhelming ; but 
 what is hard and overwhelming now, will 
 be, in the future, tender and full of restoring 
 strength. 
 
 " We would hold each other high, that we 
 may not destroy the laws of righteous liv- 
 ing. And here is life's duty. My friend, it 
 was a saying of my father, The man of under- 
 standing must be able to obey the command 
 of duty, with the same glow of zeal that 
 others obey the command of passion. So 
 must it be. The stars shine over our 
 heads, I look upon you as upon a star that 
 shines in its purity and in its ordained 
 orbit. Ah ! I do not know what I am say- 
 ing. Enough ! Let me now bid you fare- 
 well ; when we meet again — " 
 
 " No, stay here ! " Bella cried, grasping 
 his arm, which she let go immediately, as if 
 she had touched a snake. 
 
 She withdrew two steps, and threw back 
 her head, saying : — ■ 
 
 " I thank you." 1 
 
 Eric wanted to reply, but it was better 
 that he should say .nothing; he was about 
 to go away in silence, when Bella cried : — 
 
 " One question ! Is it true that you saw 
 Manna Sonnenkamp, before you came 
 here ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And you love her, and are here on her 
 
 account ? ' 
 " No. 11 
 
 " I believe you, and I thank you. 1 ' 
 There seemed to be in this utterance 
 something consolatory to her, that she had 
 not been sacrificed to love for another. 
 She looked wildly around, moved her head 
 right and left, and when she had become 
 calm again, she said : 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 255 
 
 " You are right. It is well." 
 
 She seemed to be looking for something 
 to give to Eric, without being able to find 
 it ; and now, as if she were giving utterance 
 to a thought that had long lain upon her 
 mind, and which anxiety for his welfare 
 forced from her, she criad, — 
 
 " Be warned ! Be oh your guard against 
 my brother ; he can be terrible." 
 
 Eric went away ; it was a hard matter to 
 return to Roland, but he must. 
 
 He sat still by Roland's side for a short 
 time, with his hands over his eyes; the 
 light pained them, and he did not venture 
 to look at Roland. 
 
 Then a servant, came with the message 
 that the Count and the Countess were going 
 to take their departure at once ; Eric and 
 Roland could bid them good-bye in the 
 court-yard. 
 
 They went down, and heard that, con- 
 trary to the original plan, they were to set 
 out immediately, and send the next day a 
 carriage for Aunt Claudine. 
 
 Bella extended her gloved right hand to 
 Eric, saying in a low tone : — 
 
 " Good-night, Herr Captain." 
 
 The carriage drove off. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THOUGHTS OF THE RELEASED. 
 
 Bella sat quietly as she rode homewards 
 with her husband. After a long silence, 
 Count Clodwig said, — 
 
 " My heart is full of happiness and joy ; 
 it is a real blessedness to see a woman who 
 is sixty years old, and who has never had a 
 thought that she needed to repent of." 
 
 Bella looked up quickly. " What does 
 this mean ? Has he any idea of what has 
 transpired ? 
 
 "That cannot be; he would not, in that 
 case, have referred to it. But perhaps it is 
 his lofty manner of giving a hint towards a 
 life of purity." 
 
 She was fearful of betraying herself if 
 she made no answer, and yet she was at a 
 loss what to say. Making a violent effort 
 of self-restraint^ she said at last, — 
 
 " This lady is very happy in her poverty ; 
 she has a noble, highly-cultivated son." 
 
 Clodwig now looked round as if some 
 one had pulled upon him. Could Bella 
 have had any notion that the thought had 
 crossed his mind, — What if this wife — and 
 then Eric be thy son ? 
 
 He was better off than Bella, for there 
 was no necessity of his making any reply ; 
 but he inwardly reproached himself for hav- 
 ing had the faintest impression of such a 
 thought. 
 
 They drove along in silence ; there was 
 oneness of feeling, and yet each had sad- 
 dening thoughts ; for the rest of the way 
 not a word was spoken. It seemed to 
 Bella as if some mighty force must come 
 and bear her away into chaos, into anni- 
 hilation. The carriage rattled so strangely, 
 the wheels grated, and the maid and the 
 coachman looked to her like goblins, and 
 the flitting shadows of the moon like pic- 
 tures in a dream, and the carriage with its 
 inmates like a monster; anger, shame, 
 pride, humiliation, were stormily coursing 
 through her heart, that had not yet been 
 calmed. 
 
 She was enraged with herself that she, 
 who was mature in worldly experience, had 
 allowed herself to be carried away by such 
 a girlish infatuation, for that was the name 
 she still gave it. And had not her self- 
 love been wounded ? Was not this the first 
 time that she had ever stretched out her 
 hand without its being grasped ? 
 
 It came across her that Eric might have 
 overstated his love to her, in order to lessen 
 the feeling of shame on her part. As she 
 thought it over, it seemed to her that she 
 detected something unnatural in his tone, 
 something forced and constrained. 
 
 She thought again of Eric. Where is he 
 now ? Is he talking with any one ? He cer- 
 tainly suffers deeply ; he has saved himself 
 and thee. Her thoughts were like a whirl- 
 wind. Now she scornfully exulted. It 
 was only a trifling jest, an experiment, a 
 bold play ! She, Bella, rhe strong, had 
 only tried to bring a young man to his knees 
 before her, and she would have thrust him 
 away with contempt if she had succeeded. 
 She can say this — who can contradict her? 
 Her whole past life was good evidence in 
 her favor, and vet she felt ashamed of this 
 lie. 
 
 But what is now to be done? she asked 
 again. She is simply to be quiet; she will 
 meet the man with indifference ; her last 
 word to him was to warn him against any 
 attachment to Manna. There was the 
 whole ! That was the pivot on which 
 turned the whole bold game. She prom- 
 ised herself to root out of her soul every 
 passionate feeling, every violent emotion. 
 She was now grateful to the destiny that 
 had aroused within her the strong forces of 
 nature — her virtue had now been tried in 
 the fire. 
 
 She took the veil from her face, and 
 looked up at the stars. They should be 
 witnesses that all immoderate, all childish 
 allurements, that were unworthy of her, 
 should be put far away. Now she silently 
 thought of what Eric had said, "For this 
 
256 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 end are culture .and knowledge bestowed 
 upon us, that we should rule over our- 
 selves." 
 
 As they were going up the hill on which 
 Wolfsgarten was situated, there came over 
 her a feeling pf imprisonment ; she thought 
 her hands were tied, and she put them out- 
 side of her mantle. Clodwig thought she 
 was seeking his hand ; he took hers and 
 held it with a gentle pressure. 
 
 They reached Wolfsgarten in silence, 
 and Clodwig said, as they stood in the 
 brightly lighted garden-saloon, — 
 
 " We can be silent in each others com- 
 pany ; and this is the fairest comradeship, 
 when each, one abides in himself and yet is 
 with another. " 
 
 Bella nodded, looking at the whole sur- 
 roundings with a wondering glance. What 
 is all this ? To whom does all this belong ? 
 What power has brought her here ? Where 
 has she been ? How would it be now. here 
 alone with her husband, if 
 
 It seemed to her that she must fall on 
 her knees, grasp his hand, and beg for for- 
 giveness. 
 
 But it is better, she thought, not for 
 herself — she believed that she was ready 
 to humble herself to the utmost, — but bet- 
 ter for him not to know anything of what had 
 transpired, ft ought to be concealed from 
 him. She bowed her head, and Clodwig 
 kissed her brow, saying : — 
 ■" Your brow is hot. 11 
 
 Each retired to rest. 
 
 Bella sent her maid away and undressed 
 without her aid to-night. 
 
 After Clodwig and Bella had driven off, 
 the Mother went to the vine-embowered 
 house with Eric. She led him by the hand 
 like a little child ; she felt his hand tremble, 
 but she said nothing ; when they had 
 reached the steps, she said, — 
 
 " Eric, kiss me ! 11 
 
 Eric understood her meaning ; she wanted 
 to see if he could kiss her with pure lips. 
 He kissed her. Mother and son uttered no 
 word . 
 
 Every pain was removed from Ericas 
 whirling brain. And truth requires it to 
 be said, that the most painful thought was, 
 that a feeling of regret had come over 
 Eric, a short time previously. The temp- 
 ter suggested that he had been too scrupu- 
 lous, too conscientious. He had thrust 
 from him a beautiful woman, who was 
 ready to clasp him with loving arms. When 
 he surprised himself in these thoughts, he 
 was profoundly wretched. All pride, all 
 self-congratulation, and all exalted feelings 
 of purity, were extinguished ; he was a sin- 
 ner without the sin. He had believed him- 
 
 self raised upon a lofty eminence ; he had 
 even represented his love to Bella in 
 stronger colors than the facts warranted. 
 Now there was a recoil, and the whole 
 power of the rejected and disdained love 
 avenged itself upon his doubly sinful head. 
 
 For a long tim« he wandered about in 
 the quiet night. 
 
 The soul has its feverish condition from 
 wounds as well as the body, and equally 
 requires a soothing treatmeat. 
 
 Eric had amputated a part of his soul 
 in order to save the rest, and he suffered 
 from the pain. But as the dew fell upon 
 tree and grass, and upon the face of Eric, 
 so fell a dew upon his spirit. 
 
 The self-exaltation of virtue was now 
 taken out of him, washed away by his 
 double repentance, and he was now again 
 a child. 
 
 As he looked back to the vine-embow- 
 ered house, he thought : I will, as a man, 
 preserve within me the child ; and still fur- 
 ther he thought : Thou hast withdrawn thy- 
 self from temptation through the conscious- 
 ness of duty ; be tender towards the rich 
 and great, to whom everything is offered, 
 to whom so much is allowed ; the conscious- 
 ness of duty does not restrain them so ab- 
 solutely as it does him who is in the world, 
 him who must help and be helped by 
 others, and who has lost everything when 
 he has lost himself. 
 
 He returned home late in the evening ; 
 and at night he dreamed that he was strug- 
 gling in the midst of the noefds of the 
 Rhine, and he, the strong swimmer, was 
 not able to contend against the waves. 
 
 He shrieked, but a steam-tug drowned 
 his cry, and the helmswoman of a boat 
 looked down upon him with contempt — 
 and all at once it was not the helmswo- 
 man, but a maiden form* with wings and 
 two brightly-gleaming eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE GUARDIAN AND HELPER. 
 
 Early in the morning, a carriage from 
 Wolfsgarten came for Aunt Claudine and 
 the parrot. 
 
 For the thirty years since her marriage 
 with the Professor, Frau Dournay had not 
 passed a day without her sister-in-law ; now, 
 for the first time, she was letting her go 
 from her. It seemed to both of them hard- 
 ly conceivable that they could live aparV 
 from each other, but it had been decided 
 upon, and must be. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was most politely attentive ; 
 he charged the Aunt to consider his house 
 her home, and not to remairi more than a 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 • 257 
 
 few days as a guest at Wolfsgarten. He 
 gave a basket full of carefully-covered 
 grapes and bananas into the coachman's 
 charge ; the parrot's cage was on the seat 
 near Aunt Claudine. 
 
 The parrot screamed and scolded as they 
 drove off, and kept it up all the way, not 
 liking, apparently, to leave Villa Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp proposed a drive to 
 the Professorin, to help her forget the part- 
 ing, but she answered, that not by diversion 
 but by quiet reflection, can we compose and 
 reconcile ourselves to the inevitable. Ro- 
 land looked at her in surprise ; these were 
 Eric's thoughts, almost his very words. 
 
 Several days passed quietly at the villa, 
 which was hardly quitted even for visits to 
 the vine-covered cottage. Bella's visit had 
 brought a disquiet to the house, which still 
 hung over them all, and they realized it 
 ^afresh as they constantly missed the Aunt ; 
 Bella had taken something which seemed 
 an essential part of their life. And besides, 
 the house was again without any sound of 
 music. / 
 
 Eric and Roland were more industrious 
 than ever, for the Mother had asked if she 
 might not be with them in the study-hours, 
 saying that she had never heard any of Eric's 
 teaching. Eric knew that she wished to 
 help him to keep a strict guard over himself; 
 for though not a word had been said, she 
 felt that something must have passed be- 
 tween him and Bella. And she not only 
 wanted to watch over her son at every hour, 
 but to inspire him by her presence to keep 
 true to his duty to Roland. 
 
 So she sat with them from early morning 
 through much of the day, breathing low, 
 and not even allowing herself any needle- 
 work ; and Eric and Roland felt a peculiar 
 of a calm mind, of deep insight, and wide 
 incitement in the presence of a third person, 
 views. At first Roland often looked up at 
 her, but she always shook her head, to re- 
 mind him that he must give his whole mind 
 to what he was about, and take no notice 
 of her. Eric was completely free from the 
 first hour, when he had caught himself giv- 
 ing such a turn to the lesson that his mother 
 might learn something new, and had met her 
 gaze, which said, — That's not the thing to 
 be considered. He returned to his simple 
 plan, without regard to his mother's pres- 
 ence. She was pleased with the methodi- 
 cal way in which Eric gave his instruction, 
 and knew how to keep his pupil's attention. 
 She listened with pleasure, one day, when 
 he said that Indolence liked to say: — 
 Nothing depends on me, a single individ- 
 ual ; but, a nation and humanity consist of 
 
 individuals ;-a scholar learns through single 
 hours and days ; a fruit ripens by single 
 sunbeams ; everything is individual, but 
 the collected individuals make up the great 
 whole. Eric had prepared himself, and 
 read apposite passages from -Cicero, and 
 from Xenophon's Memorabilia. Roland 
 must feel that he had the fellowship of the 
 noblest spirits. But, when they were alone, 
 his mother said, — " I think that in illustrat- 
 ing everything and trying to give your pu- 
 pil knowledge, you weaken and loosen hi< 
 firm hold on fundamental principles." 
 
 Eric felt a shock of disappointment ; he 
 had hoped that his mother ~ould express 
 entire pleasure, and she was finding fault 
 instead ; but he controlled himself, m.d she 
 continued, smiling : — 
 
 " I cannot help laughing, because my two 
 points of criticism are really one and the 
 same, looked at on two sides. The one 
 view is this, that it seems to me dangerous 
 to give your pupil, as you do, just what he 
 desires ; you follow the devious path of a 
 young discursive mind, and just there lies 
 the danger of private instruction. I mean, in 
 this way it pampers the youthful mind by 
 giving it only what it wishes for, not what 
 it ought to have. The discipline of a definite 
 course of study lies in the necessity of taking 
 up and carrying forward what the connected 
 plan requires, and not what may suit the 
 fancy ; this fits one for life too, for life does 
 not always bring what we long for, but 
 what we need and must have." 
 
 " And what is your second point ? " asked 
 Eric, as his mother paused. 
 
 " My second point is only a repetition of 
 the first. I remember your father's saying 
 once, that the first and only true support, 
 or rather the very foundation of education, 
 must be : — ' Thou shalt, and thou shalt not ; 
 straight forward without comment, without 
 explanation, without illustration.' Now ask 
 yourself whether you are not weakening his 
 character. When our Roland is brought 
 into a conflict, I don't know whether knowl- 
 edge will help him, rather than the ancient 
 command : ' Thou shalt and thou shalt not.' 
 I only say this to you that you may think it 
 over ; others may praise you, I must warn 
 you. lean say, though, that you have at- 
 tained one important point ; the boy has a 
 holy reverence for the spirit of the Past." 
 
 Eric grasped his mother's hand, and 
 walked on sometime in silence. Then he 
 explained to her how he wished to give Ro- 
 land not only knowledge, but a firm founda- 
 tion of self-reliance, on which his life might 
 rest. 
 
 "My son," replied his mother, " you 
 I have set yourself a difficult task ; you want 
 
258. 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 to accomplish a three-fold work at once ; 
 that is not possible. Listen to me patient- 
 ly. You want to complete and perfect a 
 neglected education ; you want to lead to 
 highev aims, gaining at the same time a 
 moral foothold and moral elevation, with- 
 out using the means handed down to you ; 
 and, finally, you want to train a youth, who 
 knows his own wealth, to be a useful, unsel- 
 fish, even self-sacrificing man. Now why 
 do you laugh, pray ? I will stop, though 
 I might add, that you want to make a boy 
 without a family affectionate, and a boy 
 without a country patriotic. Now tell me 
 why you laugh." 
 
 " Forgive me, mother; there's reason in 
 your being called Professorin ; you have 
 discoursed like a Professor from his desk. 
 But let me tell you that the two-fold or the 
 five-fold task is only a simple one in the 
 end. I confess I have often said to myself 
 that I might make it easier, but then I 
 would ask myself whether this was not an 
 attempt to excuse my own desire of comfort. 
 I must make the experiment of placing a 
 youth upon the platform of acting, freely 
 from " 
 
 " Reason P" lesponded the mother. 
 " Reason may give composure, but not hap- 
 piness nor blessedness ; reason may not be 
 the nourishment which suits the young 
 spirit. Remember, my son, that meat is 
 good food, but we do not feed a new-born 
 child on meat instead of milk. Do you un- 
 derstand what I mean ? " 
 
 "Yes; you mean that religion is the 
 mother's milk of the spirit." 
 
 " Exactly," said the Mother, in triumph. 
 " Your father always said that no man had 
 ever produced any great work, or accom- 
 plished any great deed, who did not be- 
 lieve in God ; God is the highest object of 
 imaginative thought. So long as philoso- 
 phy cannot show a moral law which can be 
 written, concisely and with perfect clear- 
 ness, upon two tables of stone, education 
 must make its progress through religion." 
 
 "' Mother," answered Eric, "we believe 
 in God more truly than those who would 
 confine him within the limits of a book, of 
 a church, or of a special form of worship." 
 
 " Ah," said his mother, " let us drop the 
 subject. Do you see that butterfly, flitting 
 in great circles against the window pane ? 
 The butterfly takes the glass, from its trans- 
 parency, to be the open air, and thinks 
 that he can pass through it, but dashes his 
 head at last against the glasf» wall that 
 seemed to be nothing but air. But enough, 
 I am not strong enough for you. If your 
 father still lived, he could help you as no 
 one else can." 
 
 The conversation, now turning on the 
 father's death, wandered away from the 
 previous subject. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 AN EXTRAORDINARY SCHOOL-COMMITTEE. 
 
 Frau Ceres was jealous because the 
 Professorin devoted less time to her, and 
 surprised them by suddenly expressing the 
 desire to be present at the lessons, saying 
 that she had more need of instruction than 
 the rest. And Sonnenkamp also betook 
 himself to Roland's room. He could never 
 be idle, and so, when he did not smoke, he 
 had the habit of whittling all sorts of fig- 
 ures out of a small piece of wood ; and he 
 was especially fond of cutting into gro- 
 tesque shapes fragments of grape-vine 
 roots. This was the only way he could 
 sit and listen. 
 
 Eric saw that his instruction was inter- 
 fered with by this heterogeneous assem- 
 blage. The Mother understood his dis- 
 quiet, without a word being said, and staid 
 away from the lessons. Frau Ceres and 
 Herr Sonnenkamp soon did the same. 
 
 While Eric was enabled to banish, by a 
 strict fulfilment of his duties, every trace 
 of the disturbing element introduced by 
 Bella, the Mother was full of restlessness. 
 She had attained what had been the object 
 of her strongest wishes, access to a large 
 garden of plants and unlimited sway therein, 
 and yet she was not quite content. 
 
 One morning, as she was walking early 
 in the park with her son, she said : — 
 
 " I have discovered something new in 
 myself: I have no talent for being a guest." 
 
 Eric interposed no questions, for he 
 knew that she would reach the goal, even 
 if she took a roundabout way. The Mother 
 continued : — 
 
 "I have the feeling that I must bring 
 something to pass*; I cannot be forever a 
 passive recipient ; and here is the special 
 danger of riches. The rich look upon 
 themselves as guests in this world ; they 
 themselves have nothing to do, and others 
 must do everything for them. I tell thee, 
 my dear son, that I cannot stand it, I must 
 do something. You men, you can work, 
 create, influence, and renew your life by 
 what you do, while we women can only re- 
 create and restore our life by loving." 
 
 Eric suggested that she accomplished her 
 part by simply being, but the Mother very 
 energetically responded : — 
 
 " I am always vexed with Schiller for 
 this : he should not have said, it isn't like 
 him to write, 'Ordinary natures pay with 
 what they do ; noble ones with what they 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 are. 1 That sounds like a carte blanche for 
 all do-nothings, with or without coronets 
 upon their seals." 
 
 Eric held up to her the satisfaction aris- 
 ing from her influence upon Frau Ceres ; 
 but the Mother shook her head without any 
 remark. 
 
 She had placed great hopes in that, but 
 such an enigmatical and incomprehensi- 
 ble person was presented to her view, that 
 she seemed to herself wholly useless. She 
 would not acknowledge to her son that the 
 house had something oppressive to her ; that 
 the family had all its glory and pride in ex- 
 ternal possessions, so that everything here 
 appeared external, directed by alien hands, 
 and altogether destitute of any strength 
 developed from within. 
 
 Fräulein Perini spoke always of Frau 
 Ceres as " the dear sufferer." From what 
 was Frau Ceres suffering ? 
 
 The Professorin had once lightly touched 
 upon the thought how greatly Frau Ceres 
 must miss her daughter ; when, with eyes 
 sparkling like those of a snake as it sud- 
 denly darts up its head, she sent Fräulein 
 Perini, who was at hand, into the garden ; 
 she then said to the Professorin, looking 
 timidly round : — 
 
 "He is not to blame; I, only I. I 
 wished to punish him when I said that to 
 my child ; but I did not mean she should go 
 away." 
 
 The Professorin begged that she would 
 confide the whole to her, but Frau Ceres 
 laughed like a person wholly beside her- 
 self. 
 
 "No, no, I shall not say it again, and 
 certainly not to you." 
 
 The distress which the Professorin had 
 experienced at the first interview with Frau 
 Ceres was felt anew. She believed now 
 that she knew the suffering of the dark- 
 eyed woman, who, sometimes listless, and 
 sometimes restless as a lizard, was troubled 
 by a thought which she could not reveal, 
 and could not wholly keep back % 
 
 Like a child to whom a story is told, she 
 was urged by Frau Ceres to tell her over 
 and over again about the court fetes, which 
 alone seemed to awaken any interest. Frau 
 Ceres was delighted to hear the same things 
 repeated. 
 
 But the mother took care to show that a 
 princess has a special employment for 
 every hour, and that a regular performance 
 of duty was of great importance. She 
 spoke earnestly, and came back often to 
 the consideration, that a woman like Frau 
 Ceres, born in a Republic, could have not 
 the remotest conception of all this, and 
 
 259 
 
 that it was like being suddenly removed 
 into another century. 
 
 " I understand everything that you and 
 your son say," Frau Ceres stated, "but 
 what other people say, except the Major, 
 I hear it indeed, but I don't know where I 
 am. Just think, I was afraid of you at 
 first." 
 
 " Of me ? No one was ever afraid of me 
 before." 
 
 " I will tell you about it some other time. 
 Ah, I am sick, I am always sick." 
 
 The Mother did not succeed in arousing 
 Frau Ceres out of her life of mere alternate 
 sleeping and waking. 
 
 Sonnenkamp met the Mother with demon- 
 strations of deepest respect, and seemed to 
 practise upon her his airs and attitudes of 
 genteel behavior. He delicately hinted that 
 he had faithfully kept the agreement, and 
 had never asked her what his wife said and 
 desired ; and now he would only beg to be 
 permitted to make one inquiry, whether 
 Frau Ceres had never spoken of Manna. 
 
 " Certainly, but very briefly." 
 
 "And may I not be allowed to know 
 what this brief communication was ? " 
 
 " I don't know myself ; it is still a riddle. 
 But, I beseech you, do not lead me to dis- 
 loyalty and breach of trust." 
 
 "Breach of trust?" cried Sonnenkamp 
 with trembling lips. 
 
 " Ah, it was not the right word. Your 
 wife has confided nothing to me, but I be- 
 lieve, — I pray you not to mistake me, — I 
 suspect, she is secretly afraid of Fräulein 
 Perini, or is vexed or angry with her. As 
 I said before, I am very far from meaning 
 to blame Fräulein Perini, and I almost re- 
 pent of having said as much as I have." 
 
 " You can be at rest on that point. My 
 wife would like to send Fräulein Perini out 
 of the house ten times every day, and ten 
 times every day to call her back again. 
 There is no person, not even yourself, who 
 is more needful to her and more useful than 
 Fräulein Perini." The Professorin longed 
 to be out of the house, and she could find 
 no adequate reason for the deep hold which 
 the desire had taken upon her. She had 
 no desire to be made the depositary of se- 
 crets, nor to solve riddles, and yet she was 
 incessantly occupied with the thought of the 
 daughter of the house. A ^child, a grown- 
 up girl, whom such a family abandoned, 
 perhaps this maiden was a charge for her ; 
 but how it was to be, she could not perceive, 
 and yet the thought would not leave her. 
 
 She wanted to question the Major. Clod- 
 wig, and Bella ; and she would even have 
 liked to have recourse to Pranken, but 
 
260 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Pranken had not- been visible for several 
 weeks. She got Joseph to show her Man- 
 na's room one day ; and while there, it 
 seemed to her as if the dear child were call- 
 ing her, and as if it were her duty to lend 
 her a helping hand. 
 
 She wrote a letter to the Superior, inform- 
 ing her that she would pay her a visit at the 
 first opportunity. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 FRAU PETRA. 
 
 When Sonnenkamp was alone in the gar- 
 den, in the hot-houses, in the work-room, 
 or his seed-room, he wore perpetually a 
 complacent, triumphant smile, often con- 
 gratulating himself upon his success in mak- 
 ing persons and circumstances play into his 
 hands, ruling, bending, and directing them, 
 just as he did the fruit in the garden. 
 
 The refractoriness and the indolence of 
 Frau Ceres were very serviceable, at first, in 
 lending to the whole establishment an air 
 of respectability. It gave the appearance 
 of self-eontainedness, as if there was no 
 need of other people ; as if there was every- 
 thing in their own circle, and what should 
 be superadded to this would be received gra- 
 ciously, but was not an absolute necessity. 
 But this appearance of seclusion soon be- 
 came a sort of mysterious riddle, and excited 
 curiosity and scandal. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had foreseen this, but had 
 not anticipated that this state of feeling 
 would last so long. The shyness and re- 
 serve of the dwellers in the vicinity in form- 
 ing any intimate relations with him, and 
 their failure to visit him on familiar terms, 
 gradually disturbed him. This distance 
 must not be allowed to have too much 
 weight, it had better not be noticed ; and 
 complaisance must be shown towards these 
 who hold themselves thus distantly, and it 
 must not be seen that their bearing is re- 
 market! at all. 
 
 The relation to Otto von Pranken had 
 begun with the stable, but proceeding far- 
 ther, by the connection of the families prom- 
 ised now a firm basis in the future. Until 
 now, Sonnenkamp 1 s house, park, and garden, 
 considered as a whole, seemed like some 
 isolated, alien, and extraneous plant within 
 a flower-pot. Through Eric and his family 
 the roots had begun to spread, and the plant 
 to grow independently in the open ground. 
 
 The 'intimate relation with Clodwig and 
 Bella, which Pranken had not been able to 
 bring about, had been effected through Eric ; 
 and now the Professor's widow was to carry 
 that still farther, by giving and receiving 
 
 visits which would naturally unite the fami- 
 lies. 
 
 Sonnenkamp very cautiously expressed 
 to the Mother his regret, that his wife did 
 not incline to keep up a neighborly acquain- 
 tance with the respectable families around. 
 The Mother had a desire to get a look into 
 the life of this part of the country, and to 
 express^hanks to those who had manifested 
 so much friendliness towards her son. She 
 wanted first to visit the house of the Doctor. 
 Sonnenkamp suggested that she should then 
 call upon the justice's family. He placed 
 his whole house at her disposal if she wished 
 to make invitations. 
 
 One beautiful Sunday in the latter part 
 of summer was fixed upon for visiting the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Frau Ceres had promised to go with 
 them, but when the morning came for them 
 to start, she declared that it was impossi- 
 ble. The Professorin now observed, for 
 the first time, a spice of artfulness in her ; 
 she had consented, evidently, to avoid be- 
 ing urged ; and now she planted herself 
 upon her own will, without making any plea 
 of ill health. 
 
 Fräulein Perini remained at home with 
 her. 
 
 They drove first to Herr von Endlich's, 
 although they might have known that the 
 family were absent ; they wanted only to 
 leave their cards. 
 
 From Herr von Endlich's Sonnenkamp 
 returned to the villa, and left Roland, Eric, 
 and the Mother, to proceed to the town. 
 He called out to them at parting, that 
 they must take care not to drink all the 
 wine that should be offered them. 
 
 And when the Mother was now driving 
 with Eric and Roland, the thought occurred 
 to her that she was not making these visits 
 on her own account ; but she was just as 
 happy in making them as the representative 
 of her friendsly host. 
 
 Roland wished them to stop as they were 
 going along, for they met Claus, the field- 
 guard. Roland introduced him to Eric's 
 mother; she extended her hand, and said 
 she would soon give him a call. 
 
 Claus, looking very much gratified, and 
 pointing to Roland, replied : — 
 
 " Yes, yes, if I had to turn out a grand- 
 mother for him, it would be nobody else 
 but you." 
 
 They laughed, and drove on. When 
 they reached the town, the bells of the 
 newly-erected Protestant church were just 
 ringing. It stood upon a hill, from which 
 there was a wide view of the country 
 around. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 261 
 
 The Mother stopped, and went with Eric 
 and Roland into the church. • 
 
 Roland had never been in a Protestant 
 church while service was going on. The 
 Mother requested him not to go in now, 
 when she heard him say this, but to proceed 
 directly with Eric to the town ; he was bent, 
 however, upon remaining with her. 
 
 They entered the simple, plain building 
 just as the congregation was finishing the 
 hymn. The Mother was pained to hear a 
 discourse on eternal punishment, delivered 
 in a high-pitched voice, and regretted in 
 her own mind that she had yielded to Ro- 
 land. 
 
 After they had taken a survey of the 
 cheering landscape on coming out, the 
 Mother took Roland's hand, saying : — 
 
 " When you are prepared for it, I shall 
 make vou acquainted with one of your 
 countrymen, from whom you can get higher 
 views." 
 
 "Is it Benjamin Franklin? I know 
 him; 1 
 
 " No ; the man I speak of is a preacher 
 who died only a few years ago ; a man of 
 the deepest religious nature. I am glad to 
 have known him personally ; he has been a 
 guest at our house, and I have taken him 
 by the hand. He and your father, Eric, 
 became intimate friends at once.' 1 
 
 "Do you mean Theodore Parker?" in- 
 quired Eric. 
 
 " I mean him, and I feel elevated to have 
 had such a man live with us." 
 
 "Why have you never spoken of this 
 man? " said Roland, turning to Eric. 
 
 "Because I did not wish to interfere 
 with the faith in which you were brought 
 up." 
 
 Eric said this without meaning to re- 
 prove his mother, and yet she was alarmed 
 when she heard* his reply ; she repeated, 
 that Roland would learn about the man 
 after his judgment had become more ma- 
 ture. 
 
 The mischief, however, had been done, 
 of pointing out to the youth something 
 which was now withheld from him ; and as 
 he had never been accustomed to being 
 denied anything, he would now, as usual, 
 be eager after what was forbidden, and if 
 it was not given him, he would take secret 
 measures to get it himself. 
 
 Eric and Roland received the salutation 
 of many coming out of church. Eric intro- 
 duced his mother to the School-director, 
 the Forester, his wife and sister-in-law, who 
 all accompanied the friends into the town. 
 The walk along the public highway was 
 pleasant ; there is nothing, on the whole, 
 like this pleasant mood with which a large 
 
 number of persons of various condition 
 and character return fr'om church. 
 
 "Wasn't the Doctor's wife at church?" 
 asked the Mother. 
 
 They told her that she never went on 
 Sunday morning, but staid at home to com- 
 fort the country people who came early on 
 Sunday ; she often gave them simple house- 
 hold remedies, and arranged the order in 
 which they should be admitted to the Doc- 
 tor on his return. 
 
 Eric now heard, for the first time, that 
 they called the Doctor's wife Frau Petra. 
 She had something of St. Peter's office, the 
 keeping of the door into the heavenly king- 
 dom of healing. 
 
 They entered the Doctor's house. The 
 cleanliness, of the entry floor and steps was 
 notable as usual, and on the walls good pic- 
 tures were hanging, no one of which seemed 
 to owe its position to chance. Green climb- 
 ing-plants were standing upon pier-tables, 
 and sending out their tendrils in all direc- 
 tions. In the sitting-room the Avork-table was 
 placed under the window, before which was 
 a street-mirror ; and on the table itself 
 stood a camelia in full bloom. They heard 
 the Doctor's wife saying in the next 
 room, — 
 
 " Yes, good Nanny, you are talking the 
 whole time about religion and conformity 
 to the will of God, and now you are clear 
 down in the depths of despair, and out of 
 patience, and unwilling to take kindly ad- 
 vice. My husband can give medicine, but 
 you must give yourself love and patience. 
 And you, Anna, you give your child too much 
 to eat and then you have to keep coming 
 for help. One can't get understanding at 
 the apothecary's. And you, Peter, you 
 go home and apply a bandage wet with 
 warm vinegar." 
 
 Nothing further was heard. Apparently 
 the servant had come in and announced the 
 arrival of the visitors. 
 
 The door opened, and the Doctor's wife 
 entered. She gave a hearty greeting to 
 the Mother, and ordered the servant to 
 bring a bottle of wine and three glasses. 
 In spite of the Mother's refusal, the gentle- 
 men must drink. 
 
 When the Professorin lauded the benefi- 
 cent influence'of the Doctor's wife, the lat- 
 ter at once accepted the praise saying, — 
 
 " One can learn something in more than 
 forty years' experience, such as I have had. 
 At first 1 shuddered, but I was always angry 
 with myself for it ; now I have learned from 
 my husband what stands me in the best 
 stead." 
 
 " What is that?" 
 
 " Rude bluntness, the only effectual 
 
262 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 thing. Each one is thinking about himself, 
 but why talk about myself? 11 
 
 She expressed her satisfaction at becom- 
 ing acquainted with the Mother. The two 
 ladies smiled when Roland said : — 
 
 M We went to the church, and from there 
 we came to you, and we think we are much 
 better off here." 
 
 The wine came, and Eric and Roland 
 drank the health of the Doctor's substitute. 
 Then they went to the study of the Physi- 
 cian, and Eric explained the anatomical 
 charts to Roland. 
 
 The Mother urged the Doctors wife, with 
 whom she was visiting, to return her visit 
 soon, and expressed the hope of great good 
 to result to Frau Ceres from her resolute 
 nature. 
 
 " I should be afraid of being too blunt, 11 
 answered the Doctor^ wife, whose nature 
 was in reality exceedingly gentle and con- 
 siderate. 
 
 " I trust you will pardon my boldness ; is 
 it true that Manna is to be taken from the 
 convent, and have her education completed 
 by you ? 11 
 
 The Mother was amazed. What was to 
 her only a vague thought, was the gossip of 
 the neighborhood. She could not imagine 
 what had given rise to it, and the Doctors 
 wife could not tell where she had heard it. 
 
 When the Mother now made particular 
 inquiries about Manna, the Doctor^ wife 
 said that Roland was the only one of Son- 
 nenkamp's family whom she knew. She 
 knew nothing at all about Manna ; but Lina, 
 the Justice's daughter, had been her friend, 
 and from her something definite might be 
 learned. 
 
 The Physician joined them, but did not 
 stay long. He waited only to get, as soon 
 as he could, the report from his wife. 
 
 The Mother took leave, and Frau Petra 
 did not urge her to remain, saying that she 
 had still to speak with several of the patients 
 before they went. 
 
 In lively spirits they left the house. 
 
 They had to wait longer at the Justice's, 
 for wife and daughter must first make their 
 toilet. When they finally appeared, they 
 had many apologies to make for the disor- 
 derly appearance of the room, and for their 
 own hurried toilet ; yet dress and room were 
 as neat and pretty as one could wish. 
 
 The messenger was sent after the Justice, 
 who was taking his Sunday's glass ; and 
 when at last the Professorin had taken a 
 seat in the corner of the sofa, where one could 
 hardly find room among the embroidered 
 cushions, a pleasant conversation ensued. 
 The Justice's wife had adroitly made mention 
 
 of her father, whom the Mother knew, and 
 they gradually established an agreeable inter- 
 course, after the first awkward preliminaries 
 were all over. The Professorin knew how 
 to draw Lina out, and was greatly pleased 
 with her bright description of the convent- 
 life. Lina was encouraged by this, so that 
 she became more and more animated and 
 communicative, to her mother's great aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 The Justice made his appearance. He 
 had evidently swallowed down his glass 
 hastily, for nothing ought to be left unfin- 
 ished. He shook the hand of the Profess- 
 orin longer and harder than was at all ne- 
 cessary, and assured her humorously — hu- 
 mor seemed very odd on the little man's 
 grave face — of his magisterial protection. 
 He then gave an account to Eric and Roland 
 of the Pole's having broken out of the House 
 of Correction, and of their having put up an 
 advertisement for his apprehension, but 
 they would be glad never to see him again. 
 
 The Justice's wife and Lina put on their 
 hats, and went with their guests by a circu- 
 itous path along the Rhine to the house of 
 the School-director, not without some con- 
 sciousness, perhaps, of the good appearance 
 they were making. Eric walked with the 
 Justice's wife, the Justice joined Roland, 
 and Lina went with the Professorin. 
 
 Lina began of her own accord to talk of 
 Manna, of her present melancholy, and of 
 her former liveliness ; she had cherished the 
 most enthusiastic love towards her father, 
 so that it seemed as if she could not leave 
 him for a single day ; and Lina begged the 
 Mother to use her influence to have Manna 
 return once more. 
 
 The Mother carefully refrained from mak- 
 ing any inquiries, but it struck her strange- 
 ly that from these visits, made only out of 
 politeness, a new duty seemed to be unfold- 
 ing before her. 
 
 If she had been able to imagine that she 
 was only used by Sonnenkamp to play into 
 his own hands, she would have been still 
 more astonished at the various phases which 
 one simple occurrence may assume. 
 
 They did not find the family of the School- 
 director or of the Forester at home ; as they 
 were returning in the carriage and driving 
 by the Doctor's house, his wife was standing 
 in the doorway ; she called to them to stop. 
 
 She came out to them, and said that she 
 had forgotten to remind the Mother to call 
 upon the Major and Fräulein Milch to-day ; 
 the Major was very good-natured, but he 
 was very sensitive in regard to the respect 
 shown him, and he never forgave any one 
 for neglecting to pay the proper attention to 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 263 
 
 Fräulein Milch. Fräulein Milch was a very 
 excellent, respectable person, if they could 
 overlook one thing. 
 
 Thev returned to the villa in good spirits. 
 
 The' first person they met in the court- 
 vard was the Major. He looked somewhat 
 out of humor, but his countenance lighted 
 up when the Professorin said that she had 
 intended to call upon him and Fräulein 
 Milch to-day, and to get a cup of coffee, as 
 she unfortunately could not fall into the 
 ways of this part of the country, and drink 
 wine every day. 
 
 The Major nodded ; but he soon went off 
 
 to send a child of the porter's to Fräulein 
 Milch with the welcome message. 
 
 The Mother was very animated, and Eric 
 expressed his joy that his mother experi- 
 enced something of that exhilaration pro- 
 duced by a sight of the life of the people 
 and the life of nature along the Rhine. 
 
 When Roland came to dinner, he said in 
 a low tone to the Professorin : — 
 
 " I have looked into the Conversations- 
 Lexicon, and to-day is Theodore Parker's 
 birthday ; to-day is the twenty-fourth of 
 August." 
 
 The Mother whispered that it would be 
 well for him to speak of it to no one but her. 
 
264 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 SOUR CREAM SWEETENED. 
 
 TnE Major had never been in better 
 spirits at the table than to-day. He forgot 
 to beckon to Joseph to fill up a second time 
 his glass with the favorite Burgundy. 
 
 Frau Ceres smiled dubiously when the 
 Professorin gave an account of the ex- 
 cellent people she had seen, the refreshing 
 influence of the prospect of river and moun- 
 tain, and the yet fairer one of such noble, 
 genuine, domestic life. She added that she 
 had but little acquaintance with other lands, 
 but it was certain that no land surpassed 
 Germany in real depth of feeling and gen- 
 erally diffused culture. Cities and villages, 
 that were only empty names to the traveller 
 whizzing by, concealed within them the 
 beautiful and the best adornments of hu- 
 manity. • 
 
 "Nowhere, not in any place where 
 church-bells have rung, has a better sermon 
 been preached than that, 11 said the Major 
 to Eric. He then rose. " Now, the 
 Mother — all of you drink with me — now, 
 long life to the Mother ; she enjoys life 
 herself, and makes other people see life on 
 its beautiful and fair side, and the Builder 
 of all the worlds will bless her for it. My 
 brothers ! — I mean my — my — then, long 
 life to the Professorin. 11 
 
 Never before had the Major made so long 
 a speech at table, and never had he been so 
 joyous as to-day. Soon after dinner he 
 went towards home, repeating over to him- 
 self by the way the words of his speech, for 
 he specially prided himself on being able to 
 give it to .Fraulein Milch word for word. 
 All the reputation in the world is of no 
 account if she does not* praise him, for she 
 has the best insight into everything. 
 
 When he reached the house, and Fräu- 
 lein Milch complained to him that to-day 
 her sweet cream had turned sour, and not a 
 drop was to be got in the whole village, he 
 signified to her by a wave of the hand that 
 she was to keep silence, so that he should 
 not forget his toast. Placing himself di- 
 rectly in front of her, he said : — 
 
 "This is the speech I made at dinner." 
 Laadi looked up at her master, when she 
 heard him declaiming with such energy, and 
 when the Major had concluded, she signified 
 by a bark that she comprehended him. 
 The Major did not mean to tell a lie, but the 
 speech was assuredly better, at least it was 
 longer, as he rehearsed it now to Fräulein 
 Milch, than the one he had made. She 
 said, when he got through : — 
 
 "I am only glad that there were .some 
 good people there to hear you. 1 ' 
 
 Fräulein Milch did not take to Herr and 
 Frau Sonnenkamp ; but she especially dis- 
 liked Fräulein Perini. 
 
 " Why haven't you spread our beautiful 
 white table-cloth ? 11 asked the Major, when 
 he surveyed the neat table set in the gar- 
 den. 
 
 " Because the white is too dazzling in the 
 sunlight." 
 
 "That's true; it 1 s well. Mustn't I shut 
 Laadi up ? she's so demonstrative." 
 
 " No ; just let the dog be loose." 
 
 The Major was quite in despair that he 
 could not do something to show honor to his 
 guests. 
 
 After a while he came back in triumph, 
 for he had done something which was a 
 great sacrifice for him ; he had begged the 
 Grand-master's cook to give him a pitcher 
 of fresh cream. He scarcely ever borrowed 
 anything, but to-day an exception must be 
 made. 
 
 He managed to place the pitcher upon 
 the table unnoticed by Fräulein Milch, and 
 put his hand up to his mouth to keep himself 
 from laughing outright, when he thought of 
 the Fräulein's astonishment at finding sweet 
 cream upon the table. 
 
 He did still more. He went into the 
 sitting-room and dragged his great, leather- 
 covered easy-chair into the garden, for the 
 Professorin to sit in ; but when Fräulein 
 Milch came out, she surprised him by point- 
 ing out that the easy-chair would not bear the 
 bright sunlight out-of-doors. They carried 
 it back together. 
 
 " Sha'n't we go to meet them ? " said the 
 Major, who had taken out his spy-glass ; 
 "just look through, — step, 'I'll alter it, — 
 there; I- think there's somebody in sight 
 down yonder." 
 
 Fräulein Milch begged him to be quiet, 
 and the Major looked now as if he were 
 ready to weep. Laying his hand on Fräu- 
 lein Milch's shoulder, he said, — 
 
 ' ' It's hard — very hard — cruel — bad 
 — very bad — very cruel that I can't say, 
 Here, Frau Dournay, here is my wife." 
 
 Fräulein Milch wheeled about swiftly, and 
 there was a freezing coldness in her whole 
 demeanor. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, what's the matter? " 
 
 The dog barked as if she would say, 
 " What's all this? What do you look so 
 angry for ? " 
 
 "I'm quiet now — I'm quiet now! Be 
 easy, Laadi," said the Major soothingly. 
 He was so exhausted, that he was obliged 
 to sit down ; he tried to light his long pipe, 
 but it went out. 
 
 He stood by the garden-fence, drumming 
 with his fingers upon one of the rails, and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 265 
 
 lost in so deep a reverie, that the guests 
 stood before him, without his having noticed 
 their approach. 
 
 The meeting of the Mother and Fräulein 
 Milch was not so cordial as the Major had 
 hoped it would be. Each seemed to hold 
 back a little, and they evidently gave each 
 other a close inspection. But the Major 
 laughed inwardly when he thought of the 
 sweet cream, which Fräulein Milch poured 
 out just as usual, without noticing it. 
 
 He soon tapped with his stump-finger 
 upon his forehead, saying to himself, — 
 
 " She's much too smart to make any fuss 
 before strangers. O, she's wise; one can't 
 know how wise she is ! " 
 
 How he would have liked to say that to 
 the Professorin ! But he resolved to speak 
 as little as possible to-day, and leave the 
 field wholly to Fräulein Milch. 
 
 Just the right subject of conversation did 
 not seem to come up ; but when the 
 Doctor's wife was mentioned, Fräulein 
 Milch«expressed her respect for the noble 
 woman, who had just the right sort of aris- 
 tocracy. 
 
 " And what do you mean by the right 
 sort of aristocracy ? " 
 
 " It seems to me to receive every one's 
 respect and honor." 
 
 "Exactly so, and that perhaps is still 
 truer of Frau Dournay," interposed the 
 Major. 
 
 It seemed to him that Fräulein Milch 
 sneered a trifle, and it was not pleasant to 
 him. 
 
 The Mother asked Fräulein Milch if she 
 were a native of this part of the country. 
 
 She answered curtly in the negative. 
 
 At last an expedient occurred to the Ma- 
 jor. Two strange horses must be left in 
 the stable by themselves ; perhaps they will 
 kick a little at first, but they are soon on 
 good terms. He busied himself in giving a 
 long account to Eric and Roland of the 
 vineyard, which would this year yield wine 
 for the first time, virgin wine as it was 
 called ; they must go with him to see it. 
 
 The ladies were now by themselves. 
 The Mother wanted to say something com- 
 mendatory of Fräulein Milch, about whom 
 she had heard so many favorable things ; but 
 this did not exactly suit her, and by a happy 
 turn she referred to the strangeness of the 
 change in her own life, and how much she 
 needed help. 
 
 This was the right key to touch, for Fräu- 
 lein Milch was in her element whenever she 
 could render any advice and assistance. 
 She took an unexpectedly deep view, saying 
 that a firm position in life could be kept, so 
 long as one's self-respect was preserved. The 
 
 Mother was surprised at the tact and knowl- 
 edge of the world she displayed. She ex- 
 pected to see a narrow-minded, frivolous, 
 talkative housewife, and here was evidence 
 of refined thought which could be the result 
 only of deep and mature reflection. 
 
 She wanted to say, You are more than 
 your circumstances would indicate ; but she 
 refrained, and expressed anew her satisfac- 
 tion at the beauty of the landscape, which 
 was continually unfolding hidden charms, 
 and at the rich fulness of life, as revealed 
 in human beings, who even in solitude 
 cherished refined thoughts and noble senti- 
 ments. Fräulein Milch, who had seated 
 herself with her cup of coffee a little apart 
 from the table, now drew up nearer, and 
 beginning with an allusion to Eric's discreet 
 management, she proceeded to give a clear- 
 sighted characterization of Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp and his wife. 
 
 She did not mention Fräulein Perini. 
 She only expressed her regret that Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, who was not really hard- 
 hearted, should have no systematic benefi- 
 cence. She drew a picture of the necessi- 
 tous condition of various people in the 
 neighborhood, for she knew everybody for 
 miles around. The Mother said finally : — 
 
 '* I thank you ; you remind me of a work 
 which I had lost sight of, and which was the 
 very reason of my coming here. If I have 
 the disposal of Herr Sonnenkamp's charities, 
 will you assist me ? " 
 
 Fräulein Milch promised to do so ; but she 
 suggested that it would be very much more 
 expedient for the Professorin to have the 
 cooperation of the daughter of the house ; 
 in this way many good results could be se- 
 cured. The girl, who was serious and ear- 
 nest, would take again her proper place, 
 and the immeasurable wealth of the father 
 would have a secure and immovable basis if 
 it were intrusted to the care of the daughter 
 of the house. 
 
 The Mother's eyes gleamed as she looked 
 at Fräulein Milch ; yonder the Doctor's wife, 
 and here the housekeeper, are appealing to 
 her to bring Manna out of the convent, and 
 initiate her into an active life of common 
 usefulness. 
 
 She made, very cautiously, further in- 
 quiries of the charitable and sensible house- 
 keeper concerning the people in the neigh- 
 borhood, but Fräulein Milch evaded them. 
 She affirmed that she did not have the right 
 veiw of people ; she saw them on Sundays 
 and holidays, when they were in a merry 
 mood, singing, and going up and down the 
 mountain with wreaths on their heads ; but 
 whoever was not in the very midst of this 
 hilarious movement, whoever observed it 
 
266 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 from the window, or from behind the garden 
 hedge, could form no suitable estimate of 
 it ; generally the whole seems one undistin- 
 guishable jumble, just as when one stops his 
 ears and looks at people dancing, but hears 
 nothing of the music. 
 
 The Mother led the talk back to Manna, 
 and, forgetting her usual marked reserve, 
 Fräulein Milch declared that Manna must 
 have received some severe shock, as it was 
 not natural for any one to go from the ex- 
 treme of overbearing pride to the extreme of 
 humility. 
 
 "I will relate to you one little incident 
 of Manna, and you will know what she is. 
 A stinging fly, a Rhine-gnat, as it is called, 
 alighted on her hand, and sucked her blood ; 
 she quietly let it suck, and then said : ' The 
 u^ly fly ! I have let it drink my blood 
 without disturbing it, and just for that it 
 has stung me.' Now can't you know what 
 the child is from this little trait, supposing 
 that they have not spoiled her in the con- 
 vent ? I can speak of the child with so 
 much the more freedom, as she has a dislike 
 to me, of which Fräulein Perini was the 
 cause." 
 
 Fräulein Milch now launched out into a 
 passionate invective against Pranken. 
 
 She acknowledged that her aversion to 
 him arose from his making the Major the 
 target of his wit, more than was attributable 
 to youthful arrogance ; he was both witty 
 amd supercilious. And it was so much the 
 more remarkable that now he should pre- 
 tend to be pious, and that too, before he 
 had married Manna ; there must be some 
 deep-laid game here, not easily seen through. 
 
 Engaged thus in friendly intercourse, the 
 two women got to know each other. Frau 
 Dournay, with her naturally ladylike and 
 easy bearing, imparted a great deal, without 
 seeming to do so ; Fräulein Milch, with'her 
 acquired culture, which did not sit grace- 
 fully upon her, in every communication of 
 deep thought showed plainly the difficult 
 steps by which she had made it her own. 
 When the Professorin spoke with such ease 
 and fluency, Fräulein Milch nodded, saying 
 to herself; " Yes, forsooth ! this lady has 
 sat down at the table all spread, and been 
 served by others, with all the means of cul- 
 ture, while I have had to cook my own food 
 and to set my own table." 
 
 The Major saw from a distance the two 
 women take each other by the hand, and 
 Sie spoke to Laadi fondling words that he 
 would like to have spoken to Fräulein 
 Milch. 
 
 " You are a pretty creature, smarter 
 than all the world put together — clear as 
 the day — quiet and steady — not you, 
 
 Laadi, — what are you looking at me so 
 for ? » 
 
 He returned to the garden, Roland and 
 Eric following immediately. 
 
 As the Major was escorting the Profess- 
 orin a part of the way home, she said : — 
 
 " I believe that I am acquainted now not 
 only with the two best, but also the two 
 happiest people in this region." 
 
 The Major remained some time standing 
 in the same place, and looking after the de- 
 parting guests ; then turning his eyes up- 
 ward, he said : — 
 
 " Thanks to thee, thou Builder of all the 
 worlds ! Thou knowest what I would say, 
 without my speaking, — oh dear ! " 
 
 book viii. — chapter i. 
 on goethe's birth-day. 
 
 The swiftly-flowing Rhine between its 
 bends seems transformed into a lake, until, 
 curving around the jutting mountain, it con- 
 tinues its course. • 
 
 This is very^much the case with the story 
 we are narrating. 
 
 The Mother wanted to go straightforward 
 to the goal she had in view, but many 
 obstacles interposed. First came a very 
 pressing invitation from Clodwig, for the 
 Mother and the whole of Sonnenkamp's 
 family to celebrate Goethe's birth-day at 
 Wolfsgarten. 
 
 The invitation was accepted ; but Frau 
 Ceres and Fräulein Perini remained at 
 home . 
 
 They drove to Wolfsgarten. Eric did 
 not say it in so many words, but his eyes 
 expressed how much he felt protected and 
 supported by the Mother's presence, in 
 entering the house of his friend ; she seemed 
 a living testimony that he crossed the 
 threshold with a pure heart and a pure eye. 
 Yet he could not suppress all anxiety in re- 
 gard to his first meeting with Bella. She 
 came with the Aunt, as far as the wood, to 
 meet them.- 
 
 Bella embraced the Mother, and again 
 thanked her for having subjected herself to 
 the self-denial of letting Aunt Claudine re- 
 main with her. Extending her hand to 
 Eric, she said, with a sort of chilled 
 look : — 
 
 "You were his first thought to-day, my 
 young friend." 
 
 She said nothing further, and did not 
 mention her husband's name. 
 
 Rain began to .fall before they reached 
 Wolfsgarten, and it did not cease during 
 the whole 1 day, so that they were confined 
 in doors. 
 
 Clodwig was remarkably cheexful and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 267 
 
 happy, and the day passed off with a joy- 
 ousness that is possible only to persons in 
 entire leisure, and perhaps only on the 
 banks of the Rhine. 
 
 Roland was the happiest of all ; he seemed 
 to be the life and connecting link of the 
 company, looking up at every one, as if he 
 would ask : — 
 
 " Why are you not as glad as I am ? " 
 
 He went from the Mother to the Aunt, from 
 her to Bella and to Clodwig, to and fro, as 
 if he must let every one know how pleasant 
 and home-like a circle he had found. He 
 was in such very good spirits, that at last 
 he said : — 
 
 "Ah! when sister Manna comes home, 
 she will see at once that uncle, aunt, grand- 
 father and all are here, just as if they had 
 grown upon trees." 
 
 The inquiry was made where Pranken 
 was. 
 
 They said he had gone to stay with an 
 agriculturist devoted to the church, the 
 convent-firmer, as he was called ; for there 
 was nothing, at the present day, to which 
 an ecclesiastical coloring and characteristic 
 was not given. Pranken had the good for- 
 tune, by this means, to be near the convent, 
 whose lands were farmed by the agricultu- 
 rist. 
 
 They assembled in the grand saloon, 
 from which three doors opened upon the 
 covered piazza adorned with flowers and 
 hanging-plants, and furnished with comfort- 
 able seats. 
 
 As they were quietly sitting and chatting 
 together, Clodwig suddenly raised his hand 
 as a signal for them to be silent ; they un- j 
 derstood his meaning and ceased talking. \ 
 He had taken out his watch, and now 
 said : — 
 
 "This is the very moment Goethe was 
 born. I beg, M he added with a kindly 
 glance, " I beg Bella and Fräulein Dour- 
 nay 11 
 
 The ladies understood what he meant, 
 and seating themselves at the piano, played 
 Beethoven's Overture to Egmont, arranged 
 as a duet. 
 
 Clodwig, leaning back in his chair, lis- 
 tened with closed eyes ; the Professorin was 
 sittyig near him, while Eric, holding Roland 
 by the hand, was upon the piazza. 
 
 At the conclusion of the Overture, Clod- 
 wig informed them that he had been so for- 
 tunate as to know Goethe personally, and 
 related a variety of pleasing anecdotes. 
 
 The Mother expressed her regret at never 
 having heard the voice of the exalted ge- 
 nius, nor looked him in the eye, although 
 she was old enough, at the time he died, 
 to know what he was, even if she could not 
 
 fully comprehend him. She recounted the 
 fact of a man's coming to her father's house, 
 as they were sitting down to dinner, and 
 informing them that news of Goethe's death 
 had just been brought. An elderly lady 
 was so affected by it, that she could not sit 
 down with them to dinner. 
 
 In the qualified view he then expressed, 
 she had gained an acquaintance for the first 
 time with her husband's mind ; for while 
 he held Goethe in the highest veneration, 
 he had asserted that the Master had made- 
 poetic art too effeminate, in placing woman 
 too directly as the central point of living 
 interests, and giving the impression to men, 
 that poesy and an acquaintance with it were 
 the province of woman, just as so many 
 Free-thinkers, as they were styled, re- 
 garded religion as belonging peculiarly to 
 her. 
 
 Clodwig opposed this view of Goethe ; 
 he dwelt with special emphasis upon the 
 difficulty experienced in our modern life, 
 which does not admit of the worship of ge- 
 nius, as it is termed ; for this worship could 
 be possible only where a. pure manifestation 
 of God, a theophany, was granted. When 
 limitations were placed to this, worship was 
 no longer possible. 
 
 It was scarcely noticed that Bella, Clau- 
 dine and Herr Sonnenkamp had left the 
 saloon, for Bella had requested Herr Son- 
 nenkamp that he would give her some 
 advice about the new arrangements of her 
 conservatory. 
 
 And thus Clodwig and the Mother were 
 now left alone in the saloon, while Eric and 
 Roland were sitting in silence upon the 
 piazza, and listening to Clodwig as he 
 added, that the future would no longer, 
 perhaps, have any formal cultus, when there 
 was the true consecration of the spirit in 
 actual life. 
 
 Eric and Roland listened with bated 
 breath, as Clodwig and the Mother acknowl- 
 edged to each other the influence which the 
 Master had exerted upon the development 
 of their life and the training of their minds. 
 They thoroughly discussed that work too 
 little known, " Goethe's Conversations' with 
 Eckermann," which brings us into the living, 
 personal presence of the Master of masters. 
 Clodwig represented that the youth of to- 
 day no longer had the same veneration for 
 Goethe ; and the Professorin informed him 
 that her deceased husband — she quoted 
 him repeatedly — had explained this by 
 saying, that the youth of to-day regarded 
 themselves, first of all, as citizens, and this 
 life as a citizen, this active influence in the 
 State, had not dawned upon Goethe, and it 
 was not his sphere. 
 
268 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 They again extolled, as in an alternate 
 chant, the influence of Goethe in enriching 
 and in deepening their life. 
 
 Eric and Roland listened in silence ; once 
 only, Eric said in a low tone, — 
 
 "Note, Roland, this is glory, this is re- 
 nown, this is the noblest good-fortune, for 
 a man to exert such an influence that his 
 spirit always gives fresh inspiration ; that 
 two persons shall sit in after years, and 
 derive mutual edification from recalling 
 what one who is dead and gone has been 
 the means of establishing." 
 
 Roland looked into the large, gleaming 
 eyes of Eric, who could have embraced the 
 youth as he said, — 
 
 "For* once, I am present at your devo- 
 tions." 
 
 Again the two in the saloon spoke, and 
 now Eric heard his name mentioned, as the 
 Mother said, — 
 
 "Eric reads Goethe's poems aloud very 
 well." 
 
 He got up at once, and was ready to do 
 
 it. 
 
 Bella, Aunt Claudine, and Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp were called in, and Eric read aloud, 
 but to-day not so well as usual, for there 
 were many things which might be taken as 
 the embodiment of emotions in his own 
 heart and in that of Bella. 
 
 They sat down to dinner in an elevated 
 frame of mind, as after a religious service. 
 
 Clodwig could not speak often enough of 
 the good-fortune, which had led the son of 
 one of the guests to become the life-guide 
 of the son of another. 
 
 He plunged deeply into the consideration 
 that one Spirit, who presided over all, had 
 prepared and fitted the one to impart the 
 highest he possessed to the other. 
 
 He said very naturally, that Manna ought 
 to leave the convent, as no one could aid 
 her to complete her education more worth- 
 ily than the Mother. 
 
 Sonnenkamp and the Mother looked at 
 each other in amazement, for another was 
 expressing their own silent convictions. 
 
 Sonnenkamp thanked Clodwig very meek- 
 ly for the deep interest he felt in his fam- 
 ily, and said that a suggestion of Clodwig 1 s 
 had to him the weight of a higher command, 
 and he hoped that the Professorin would 
 receive it as such. She promised to under- 
 take the charge, as her only satisfaction was 
 in being useful. 
 
 The rain still continued. Again they 
 assembled in the grand saloon, and now 
 Bella displayed her proficiency in arts that 
 no one knew her to be mistress of. She 
 appeared, having a red velvet curtain draped 
 about her in the Grecian style, and imitated 
 
 | a famous Italian player with wonderful fidel- 
 ity to the life. She went out, and appeared 
 again as a Parisian grisette ; then she after- 
 wards appeared as a Tyrolese singer, every 
 time wholly different, and hardly recogniza- 
 ble. 
 
 She excited the most merriment when 
 she imitated in succession three different 
 beggar-women, — a Catholic, a Protestant, 
 } and a Jew. She enacted also, with the same 
 applause, a scene in which a Catholic, a 
 Protestant, and a Jewish woman came sepa- 
 rately to the dentist, to have an aching 
 tooth extracted. And without degenerat- 
 ing into caricature, she took off her ac- 
 quaintances, all with such perfect grace and 
 such accuracy of delineation, that words 
 failed to express the admiration. 
 
 Clodwig said in a low tone to the Mother : 
 " You may well be proud that she makes this 
 exhibition before you, for she cannot be 
 easily induced to do it in any one's pres- 
 ence whom she does not value highly." 
 
 Sonnenkamp added that it was a magnifi- 
 cent but wasteful luxury to possess such 
 talent, and not to exhibit it to the delight 
 of the whole world. 
 
 Eric, meanwhile, watched with a mixed 
 feeling these dramatic representations, which 
 he could not help admiring. How rich a 
 nature Bella possessed ! And how hard it 
 must be for her to circumscribe her mani- 
 fold activity within the narrow bo unds of a 
 limited sphere of duty ! But Bella, to-day, 
 'had thrown herself into the various parts 
 with all her energy ; she desired to have 
 every feeling and every remembrance ef- 
 faced from her own and from Eric's soul. 
 Eric had this impression, but he made no 
 remark. Bella spoke to him once only, 
 telling him that the Russian Prince, who 
 was staying with Weidmann, wrote fre- 
 quently to her, and desired to be remem- 
 bered to him ; and that he also wrote in the 
 warmest terms of esteem concerning Ro- 
 land's earlier tutor-, Master Knopf. 
 
 In the emphasis which she placed upon 
 the word tutor, Bella seemed desirous of 
 setting up again between her and Eric the 
 old boundary line that had disappeared. 
 
 Towards evening the rain held up, and 
 the sun came out with that inexpressible 
 glory of coloring only to be seen when the 
 mountains glow, and seem transfigured with 
 its misty beams. They immediately set out 
 towards home. 
 
 The whole day seemed a perfect series of 
 fantastic forms. Roland was continually 
 giving expression to his astonishment at the 
 versatility of the Countess ; but Sonnen- 
 kamp offered his hand to the Mother, say- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 269 
 
 M If agreeable to you, we will to-morrow 
 pay a visit to my daughter.' 1 
 
 The Mother * nodded assent. Sonnen- 
 kamp was highly pleased ; he had perfect 
 confidence in the nobleness of her motives, 
 and, for awhile, he himself experienced a 
 like elevation. It is such a fine thing, and 
 people are so happy in taking up with things 
 of that sort, and it always pays well, at any 
 rate, in making one feel comfortably. 
 
 But very soon the consciousness of his 
 own triumphant power came uppermost ; 
 the world subserves his plans, and it is his 
 chief delight to make people his tools and 
 playthings, and balance himself on their 
 shoulders. And it exactly suited his pur- 
 pose that Clodwig and the Professorin | 
 adopted his own secret plan ; they must now 
 feel grateful to him for carrying out their 
 desires, at the very time they were of ser- 
 vice to him, and were helping him to bring 
 to a successful issue his main design. He 
 saw in this a confirmation of his claim to be 
 a being of a higher species, one who dis- 
 poses as he will of others, and at the same 
 time makes them feel under obligation to 
 him. 
 
 On the evening of his return, Sonnen- 
 kamp ordered the gardener to place the 
 next day Manna's favorite flower, the migno- 
 nette, in every part of her room. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 AN ISLAND PLOUGHED UP. 
 
 Humility, respect, and helpful kindness 
 were manifest in Sonnenkamp's whole de- 
 meanor, as he extended his hand to the 
 Professorin on her getting out of the car- 
 riage ; as he conducted her to the steamboat ; 
 as he looked out for a seat protected from 
 the draught and giving an uninterrupted 
 prospect ; as he supplied all her wants and 
 asked if there was any thing he could do for 
 her. 
 
 The Professorin was startled when she 
 perceived that she had forgotten a book 
 which she had laid upon the table, intend- 
 ing to take it with her, but had left it there. 
 She evaded Sonnenkamp's question what 
 was the name of the book, for she could 
 well imagine, that the writings of the man 
 she held in such high veneration would not 
 be agreeable to Sonnenkamp. She said in 
 a joking way that she had lived so long in 
 the society of the learned world, that even 
 making a trip on the Rhine, in a clear, 
 bright sunshine, she thought she must have 
 a book with her. She must give herself up 
 wholly to the scenery and to her own 
 thoughts. 
 
 Sonnenkamp seated himself near her, and 
 
 said in a tone of genuine emotion, that he 
 could not but congratulate his children, nay, 
 almost envy them, that they were to live in 
 the society of a woman of such a youthful 
 spirit. 
 
 The more he. talked, the tenderer he be- 
 came, and his eyes glistened as if moistened 
 with tears. He frequently said that he 
 could not speak of his youthful years, which 
 were arid and desolate, with no gentle hand 
 of woman to soothe him with caresses. The 
 strong man was deeply moved, as he spoke 
 of his childhood in words that partly veiled 
 and partly revealed his meaning. At last he 
 came to the main point, composing himself 
 by a violent effort. The Professorin felt 
 that she must first inquire into the reason 
 why Manna had became so alienated from 
 him. Bending down his head, he proceeded 
 to say : — 
 
 " They may have told her something that 
 I disdained to contradict. Were you, hon- 
 ored lady, to know what it was, you would 
 without hesitation pronounce it to be a 
 falsehood devised by the most malignant 
 hostility." 
 
 The Professorin desired to know what 
 was said, but he replied that if he should 
 repeat it, he should run mad here on board 
 the boat. His features, that had been com- 
 posed and. placid, were suddenly distorted 
 in a fearful manner. 
 
 The Professorin now dwelt upon the visit 
 that she was going to make to the Superior, 
 the friend of her youth, and begged Herr 
 Sonnenkamp to avoid all direct endeavor 
 to influence his daughter in favor of herself. 
 
 " Children," she said, " must make their 
 own friends, and they cannot receive them 
 ready made from others. One must be 
 careful not to intrude one's self upon them, 
 and to wait quietly and patiently, until they 
 come of their own accord." 
 
 Sonnenkamp considered this so judicious, 
 that he promised not to go with her, in the 
 first instance, to the island, but to^ remain 
 at the inn on this side of the river until the 
 Professorin should send for him. 
 
 " You are as good as you are wise," he 
 said praisingly, for he detected as he thought 
 in the lady's unobtrusiveness a politic mo- 
 tive ; and he was pleased in the notion of 
 circumventing all cunning with a deeper 
 cunning still. 
 
 While Sonnenkamp and the Mother were 
 sailing down the Rhine, a strange circum- 
 stance occurred on the convent-island. From 
 one end of the year to the other, no horse 
 was to be seen upon the island, except 
 when the ground was ploughed. The 
 pupils in amazement pointed out to each 
 other a plough, which a horse was draw- 
 
270 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ing up and down the extreme point of 
 the island. A noble-looking farmer in a 
 blue blouse, and with a gray hat drawn 
 down over his eyes, was guiding the plough. 
 The children stood at a distance watching 
 the plough, as if it were some novel won- 
 der, and looked at Manna for permission to 
 go nearer in order to observe it. She nod- 
 ded permission, and they walked along the 
 gravelled walk by the side of the field. 
 Then the ploughman, taking off his hat, 
 made a salutation ; Manna remained stand- 
 ing with a fixed look as if she were under a 
 spell. Is that not Herr von Pranken ? He 
 continued his ploughing and said nothing. 
 As he turned the plough, to come back, he 
 looked towards her and smiled ; it was he. 
 
 "He's a splendid-looking ploughman, 1 ' 
 said one of the girls. 
 
 "And he seems so genteel," exclaimed 
 another. 
 
 " And he has a seal ring on his finger," 
 cried a third. "Who knows that this is 
 not a knight in disguise ! " 
 
 Manna called to the children to return 
 with her. She went into her cell, from 
 which the field could be overlooked, but she 
 kept away from the window. She felt flat- 
 tered that Pranken should subject himself to 
 the most humble condition, in order to be 
 near her, and she felt grateful to him for 
 being so modest and considerate as not to 
 speak to her. She debated with herself 
 whether she should not mention it to the 
 Superior, but she came to the conclusion 
 that she had no right to betray Herr von 
 Pranken's secret ; besides, so far from there 
 being any harm in it, it was the noblest 
 tribute of respect. 
 
 Going to the window, she saw that he 
 kept steadily at his work, and he had never 
 seemed to her so pure and noble, so lova- 
 ble as now, engaged in this rustic labor. 
 
 On the window-sill was a rose-bush with 
 a late rose in full bloom. Looking up she 
 caught sjght of it, and took hold of the stem, 
 thinking she would pluck and throw it to 
 him as a sign of recognition ; but just then, 
 a lay-sister came in and informed her that a 
 visitor had come who as.ked to see Manna. 
 The rose remained on its stem. 
 
 Manna turned round and seemed per- 
 plexed. Pranken is still there ploughing. 
 Could he be the one who was announced ? 
 or has the Countess Bella arrived ? With 
 wavering step she descended to the recep- 
 tion-room. The Superior introduced to her 
 a good-looking, portly lady, saying : — 
 
 " This is my friend, Professorin Dournay, 
 the mother of your brother's teacher." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " OUT OF THE WORLD, AND OUT IN THE 
 WORLD. " 
 
 The first feeling was surprise, the sec- 
 ond, quiet confidence, as the eyes of the 
 Professorin and Manna met ; each found the 
 other different from the preconceived im- 
 age. 
 
 Manna remembered Eric's tall figure, and 
 his resemblance to the picture of St. An- 
 thony, and before her stood a short, fair, 
 gray-haired woman. Frau Dournay had 
 pictured to herself Roland's handsome sistei 
 as like him, and now she saw a slender, del- 
 icate creature, who, at first sight, gave no 
 impression of beauty. A mole on her left 
 cheek, and one on the right side of her up- 
 per lip, were quite conspicuous ; her com- 
 plexion was rather dark, and her wonderful 
 brown eyes glowed with deep and quiet 
 warmth upon every one who looked into 
 them. 
 
 Manna bowed ceremoniously to the Pro- 
 fessorin, who rose and held out her hand 
 with maternal kindness, saying that she was 
 very glad to become acquainted with the 
 daughter of her host, while paying a visit to 
 her friend, the Superior; and she added, 
 with special emphasis, that she had been so 
 fortunate as to become quite intimate with 
 Manna's mother. 
 
 "Is my mother well?" asked Manna, 
 with a sweet tone of warmth in her low and 
 quiet voice. The Professorin told her of 
 her mother's health, and added that^ the 
 doctor said he had never known her so con- 
 stantly cheerful as now. 
 
 " Now, I have a request to make," she 
 continued in an animated tone; "since I 
 have had the good fortune to be your pa- 
 rents' guest, I have insisted that the daily 
 course of your brother's studies should not 
 be in the least interfered with, and now let 
 me beg you, my dear young lady, to go on 
 with your usual occupations. I shall have 
 the pleasure of dining with you, and after 
 dinner, I shall be very glad if you will spare 
 me a quarter of an hour." 
 
 "If you have any private message for 
 Manna," said the Superior, " I will leave 
 you together." 
 
 " I have not any private message." 
 
 Manna gave the Professorin her hand, 
 and left the room. She did not know what 
 to make of it all ; Avhy had she been sum- 
 moned when there was so little to be said 
 to her? It offended her a little to be so 
 pushed about by a stranger — for the lady 
 was a stranger. But as she walked through 
 the long passage, she still saw before her 
 the sincere and gentle countenance of the 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 271 
 
 stranger, smiling at her as if saying, You 
 are a strange child ! 
 
 Manna returned thoughtfully to her «eil ; 
 she looked out of the window and saw Prank- 
 en just entering a boat with his horse, and 
 he was soon on the opposite shore. 
 
 " Ah, Herr von Pranken ! " cried a loud 
 voice, and the echo repeated the sound. 
 
 What voice was that ? 
 
 Pranken hurried up the bank and van- 
 ished behind the willows. 
 
 Manna longed for the time when the 
 world would be shut out from her. and no 
 more unrest could come over her, for now 
 she was deeply disturbed. There was 
 Pranken ; here, the tutor's mother — what 
 did it all mean ? She took her book of de- 
 votions, but could not succeed in drawing 
 her thoughts from the subjects which oc- 
 cupied them. 
 
 In the mean time, the Professorin was 
 listening to the Superior's account of Man- 
 na's strange nature, which seemed really to 
 hold two natures within it, one, humble 
 and submissive, almost without a will of its 
 own ; the other, struggling, defiant, and self- 
 willed. She had a true, earnest character, 
 too serious, perhaps, for a girl of seventeen ; 
 she was often unable to hold her feelings 
 under control, but who could always do that 
 at her age ? A weight lay on her spirits which 
 was uncontrollable ; it plainly had its source 
 in the child's keen sense of the discord be- 
 tween her parents and its influence upon 
 herself. The Superior asked Frau Dournay 
 to tell her more of the characteristic pecu- 
 liarities of the parents, but she evaded the 
 subject. 
 
 The appearance, as well as the bearing, 
 of the two ladies offered a sharp contrast. 
 The Professorin's figure was full, and in her 
 face there was a constant expression of wide- 
 awake animation ; her hands were round and 
 plump ; the Superior was tall and thin, her 
 expression severe and earnest, as if just a 
 moment before she had given some positive 
 order, or was on the point of giving one ; 
 her hands were long and perfectly shaped. 
 Both women had experienced hard trials : 
 the Professorin had won a gentle, smiling 
 content ; the Superior, a complete prepara- 
 tion to meet all events with firm and stoical 
 endurance. 
 
 The first greeting between these early 
 friends, after nearly thirty years of separa- 
 tion, had been a strange one, the Superior 
 not hearing, or seeming not to hear, that 
 Frau Dournay addressed her just as she had 
 in the old days. 
 
 " I did not think I should ever see you 
 again in this world," she had said directly, 
 and when the Professorin tried to recall re- 
 
 miniscences of their youth, she had re- 
 plied that she knew the past no longer ; she 
 had destroyed all its mementoes, and rec- 
 ognized only a future, the sole object that 
 ought to occupy our thoughts. 
 
 The Superior noticed that this distant 
 manner of speaking startled her old friend, 
 and she said, with the same composure, that 
 she made no distinction among the relations 
 and acquaintances of her early life ; no one 
 was nearer to her or farther from her, and 
 that any one who could not attain this state 
 ought not to devote herself to a spiritual 
 life. 
 
 The Professorin felt as if she had been 
 turned off and shown out of the house, but 
 she was calm enough to say : — 
 
 " Yes, you always had a strength of mind 
 which used to frighten me, but now I ad- 
 mire it." 
 
 The Superior smiled ; then, as if angry 
 at having been betrayed into any self-satis- 
 faction by this civil speech, she said, — 
 
 " Dear Clara, I beg you not to tempt me 
 into vanity. I stand at my post, and have 
 a strict watch to keep, until the Lord of 
 Hosts shall call me to himself. Formerly, 
 I must confess, I did not realize that you 
 and I lived in different worlds ; in mine, it 
 is one's duty not to rely on one's own 
 strength." 
 
 With all this self-denial, it seemed to the 
 Professorin that the Superior spoke of the 
 power and the greatness of the sphere in 
 which she moved, with that pride, or at 
 least with that lofty self-confidence, shown 
 by all who belong to a great and powerful 
 community. To the Superior, on the other 
 hand, she seemed like an isolated, detached 
 atom, floating it knew not whither. 
 
 They soon found, however, a point on 
 which they could sympathize, in speaking 
 of the difficult task of educating the young. 
 
 The Superior was rich in experience, 
 while the Professorin depended almost en- 
 tirely on the precepts and opinions of her 
 departed husband ; and now that she took 
 the attitude of a scholar, and listened grate- 
 fully, gentler thoughts rose within the 
 Superior, who had felt that she had been 
 somewhat harsh towards the excellent wo- 
 man ; and in this mood, she imparted some 
 things that she really meant to hold back. 
 She told Frau Dournay that, at first, 
 Manna's position in the convent had been a 
 very hard one, for a strange thing had hap- 
 pened. Her entrance into the convent 
 seemed to bring about a revolution. Two 
 Americans from the best families were then 
 there, and they were not willing to sit at 
 the same table with the Creole, for such 
 Manna seemed ; they told their fellow-pu- 
 
272 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 pils that, in their native country, such half- 
 bloods always travelled in separate cars on 
 the railroads, and, even in church, had 
 places set. apart lor them. And as most of 
 the children were from noble German fam- 
 ilies, they united in a protest against Man- 
 na's presence, without her knowing anything 
 of it herself. While she slept, three of 
 the pupils had examined her nails, in the 
 presence of a nun, and as no black spots 
 were found on them, it was proved that 
 both parents were of pure blood. Manna 
 was tolerated, and soon succeeded in win- 
 ning the blue ribbon by her quick mind and 
 great industry. 
 
 The Professorin held back the words which 
 rose to her lips, for she was resolved to keep 
 quiet and arouse no discussion ; but her 
 lips trembled as she longed to tell the 
 Superior that it was her duty to have shown 
 the children, by precept and example, that 
 there can be no distinction of blood before 
 God, and that such exclusiveness was im- 
 pious and barbarous. 
 
 Frau Dournay had to exercise still more 
 self-control when the Superior asked her to 
 be kind enough to fold her hands when 
 grace was said at dinner. The color 
 liushed into her face, as she listened, and 
 answered, — 
 
 " My husband is gone to his eternal 
 home, and I know that when he stands be- 
 fore the judgment-seat the Holy Spirit will 
 say to him : Thou hast lived according to 
 the purest convictions of thy soul ; thou 
 hast honestly examined thyself, and hast 
 attempted and done only what thou couldst 
 do in all sincerity. At our table, we had 
 no formal prayer, but before we sat down 
 to eat and drink, each of us spent a minute 
 in silent self-communion, and in the thought 
 of what it really is to renew our existence 
 from the Fountain of life ; and our meal 
 was consecrated by pure and good 
 thoughts." 
 
 " Well, well, I did not mean to wound 
 you," said the Superior. "I heard with* 
 sympathy that you had lost your husband, 
 for whose sake you sacrificed yourself so 
 nobly and gladly. 11 
 
 " I was happy with my husband," replied 
 the Professorin; " our love grew stronger 
 every day. -But love for a lover or a hus- 
 band is always dwelt on ; there is another 
 kind of love, which, though very different, 
 is wonderfully fresh and noble, and I think 
 I know it. Forgive me for saying it, but I 
 mean that it seems as if love only rightly 
 begins when one has a high-minded, excel- 
 lent son." 
 
 "Iara glad that you are so happy ; but 
 tell me sincerely whether you have not 
 
 found that of ten married women, nine, at 
 least, are unhappy." 
 
 The Professorin was silent, and the 
 Superior continued, — 
 
 " Your silence is assent, and now look 
 at the great difference ; among a hundred 
 nuns you find scarcely one unhappy one." 
 
 Frau Dournay was still silent ; she did 
 not wish to debate this assertion : she was a 
 guest, and would not try to convert or cor- 
 rect ; but the Superior seemed to try to 
 draw her out as she asked, — 
 
 " Do you know a more unhappy position 
 than that of a girl who knows herself, and 
 whom others know, to be the heiress 'Of 
 millions ? Is she to believe in the love of 
 frail human creatures ? Is she to believe 
 that she is wooed for her own sake ? There 
 is nothing for her, but to give herself and 
 her wealth into the hands of the Eternal. 
 This I say to you — I know not what com- 
 mission you have, and even if you have 
 none, you can report it* We do not try to 
 gain Manna and her future wealth, we in- 
 sist that she shall go back into the world, 
 and return to us only on her own free 
 decision. There is neither compulsion nor 
 intimidation on our part, but it is our duty 
 to protect those who prefer the imperishable 
 to the perishable, wherever they may be. 
 Now you know all, and we will say no more 
 on the subject." 
 
 The Superior left her, and Frau Dournay 
 walked out alone upon the island. It 
 seemed to her that it would be a bold act, 
 one of unjustifiable rashness indeed^ to 
 take this child by force, even the force of 
 affection, from this sphere where she lived 
 at peace and wished to end her life. She 
 stood on the shore, and almost without 
 knowing why, allowed herself to be taken 
 across to the main-land, where she was not 
 a little astonished to find Herr Sonnenkamp 
 and Herr von Pranken, taking wine to- 
 gether, under the shady lindens of the 
 inn. 
 
 Pranken was dressed so strangely that 
 she thought she was mistaken, and she was 
 about to turn back ; but she heard her name 
 called, and approached the two men in the 
 garden. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was in high spirits, declar- 
 ing himself very fortunate to have met his 
 friend Pranken here; he considered it a 
 fine thing that the Baron had changed him- 
 self into a husbandman, hinting that he 
 himself had once been something of the 
 kind ; then he said, — 
 
 "We have no secrets from our friend; 
 will Manna go home with us, Frau Profes- 
 sorin ? " 
 
 The Professorin replied that not a word 
 
THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE KHINE. 
 
 273 
 
 had been said on the subject, and that it 
 seemed hardly to be wished ; it would be 
 well to let Manna complete her time at the 
 convent, and certainly to refrain from all 
 compulsion. 
 
 Pranken agreed very emphatically, but 
 Sonnenkamp was much put out ; it seemed 
 to him dreadful that his daughter should be 
 living here in the midst of a crowd of other 
 girls, when a free and happy life was wait- 
 ing for her. 
 
 The noon-day bell rang from the Convent, 
 and Frau Dournay said she must go back. 
 Sonnenkamp accompanied her to the shore, 
 and there said in a low voice : — 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about Pranken. 
 We will leave my daughter free in every 
 respect." 
 
 The Professorin returned to the island ; 
 the children were already at table when she 
 entered the dining-room ; she stood with 
 folded hands behind her chair for a few 
 moments before seating herself. When 
 dinner was over, and thanks had been re- 
 turned, the Superior said to Manna, — 
 
 " Now go with the friend of your family." 
 
 Frau Dournay and Manna walked towards 
 the shady grove on the upper end # of the 
 island ; and Heimchen, who was quite con- 
 fiding towards the Professorin, went with 
 them ; but she was quite willing to sit down 
 with a book, under a tree, and wait till they 
 came back for her. 
 
 "But you must not take Manna away 
 with you," cried the child from her low seat ; 
 they both started, for the child had given 
 utterance, from an instinctive feeling, to 
 the fear of cfhe and the hope of the other. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE IRON MUST ENTER THINE OWN SOUL. 
 
 For a long time neither uttered a word ; 
 at last the Professorin said, — 
 
 " You seem to be called to a higher life, 
 from having been obliged in early youth to 
 suffer so hard an experience, and to feel 
 deeply the discord among men." 
 
 « ' I? How ? " asked Manna. " What do 
 you know ? 11 She trembled. 
 
 " I know," answered the Professorin, 
 "that you have suffered under that cruel 
 burden which weighs upon your great and 
 noble father-land." 
 
 " My father-land ? I? Speak more plain- 
 ly." 
 
 " It pains me that I tear open a wound 
 which is scarred over, but this scar is a 
 mark of honor for you, and it is not your 
 fault, my child, that you are set in the midst 
 of this life-struggle." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How? Tell me all; what do you 
 ■know ? " 
 
 " I mean that it should elevate you to 
 have been obliged to bear humiliation and 
 bitterness in your own person ; it gives you 
 a loftier consecration." 
 
 " Tell me plainly what you mean." 
 With an altered tone, like the hiss of a 
 serpent, Manna spoke sharply and angrily ; 
 her gentle eyes sparkled restlessly. 
 
 "Heaven knows," said the Professorin, 
 " I would not wound you; no, protecting 
 and blessing you, would I lay my hand upon 
 you." 
 
 She tried to place her hand on Manna's 
 head, but the girl shrank back and cried: — 
 "Tell me distinctly, who knows it? 
 What do you know ? Pray speak." 
 
 " I know nothing, except that you had to 
 suffer severely on your entrance into the 
 convent ; that two American girls took you 
 for a half-blood, and would not associate 
 with you." 1 1 
 
 " Yes, yes, that's it ! Now I know why 
 they examined my nails, and Anna Sot way 
 stood by. Oh, it's well ! it's well ! I thank 
 thee, holy God, that thou hast suffered me 
 to experience this. In myself, in my own 
 person, I was to feel the suffering that a 
 slave feels in being examined ! Why did 
 they not open my veins ? I thank thee, O 
 God ! But why dost thou suffer them to 
 worship thee, and then to scorn thee in thy 
 creatures ? Then it was not because I tried 
 to be reverent and obedient, no, but be- 
 cause I was of pure blood, that I was toler- 
 ated here ! Pah ! " 
 
 It was a different being who spoke these 
 words, and cried aloud in the wood : — 
 
 "Ye trees, why does each of you grow 
 after its kind, and blossom and grow green 
 and flourish, warmed by the same sun, and 
 with the birds singing in your branches ? 
 Alas ! alas ! where ami?" 
 
 "In the right path," answered the Pro- 
 fessorin. Manna gazed at her as if she 
 were a spirit, and she continued : — 
 
 " A pure spirit is speaking again through 
 you, my child ; you have spoken truth. 
 .When Lessing said, ' I would not have all 
 trees covered with the same bark,' he had 
 no presentiment that his spirit would mani- 
 fest itself anew here in the cloister, in a child 
 just waking to life. His pure and holy 
 spirit is between us now, my child, and I 
 think Lessing would say : Forgive them ; 
 they will learn that God alone is constant, 
 while the races of men are only the ever- 
 varying, ever-returning figures of a dream." 
 
 Manna appeared hardly to have heard 
 her, for now she grasped her arm asking : — 
 
274 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 "Did you not tell me, that you were 
 specially in the confidence of my mother ? " 
 "Yes." 
 
 14 And has she told you the secret too? " 
 
 14 I do not understand you." 
 
 44 Speak openly with me. I know all." 
 
 44 Your mother has told me no secret." 
 
 Manna seized the cross on her breast 
 convulsively, and gazed silently before her 
 for a long time. 
 
 With heart-felt earnestness, the Profes- 
 sorin expressed her deep regret at having 
 moved her so greatly, and her desire not to 
 force herself upon her, but to be her true 
 friend. 
 
 Manna made no answer. At last she 
 turned and kissed the lips of her startled 
 companion. 
 
 "I kiss the lips which have spoken the 
 dreadful words, and all the rest. Yes, I 
 must experience it, I, myself. I believe 
 that I am now first consecrated as the sacri- 
 fice." 
 
 The Mother stood helpless before this 
 enigmatical being, and Manna at last 
 promised to be quite calm. She seated her- 
 self on a bench which stood under a fir-tree, 
 leaned back against the tree, and gazed up 
 at the sky. 
 
 44 Why," she said to herself, 44 does there 
 now come no voice to us from the air? 
 Ah, I would so gladly follow it forth over 
 mountain and valley, to darkness and 
 death." 
 
 Manna wept ; the Professorin reminded 
 her of her promise to be quite calm, but 
 the girl declared she could not, it grieved 
 her so to be torn from this place, which she 
 must leave, since she could not be true in it. 
 She would be living falsely, because people 
 had not been true to her. 
 
 Now, for the first time, the Professorin 
 understood that Manna had known nothing 
 of what had passed, and she shuddered at 
 what she had done. She mourned over 
 having so disturbed Manna's young soul, 
 saying that she could never forgive herself. 
 And now Manna turned, and tried to calm 
 and console her unhappy companion. 
 
 44 Believe me, pray believe me," she cried, 
 holding up her clasped hands, 44 only the 
 truth can make us free, and that is the 
 dreadful thing, that the park, and the 
 house, and all the splendor are lies — No, 
 that I did not mean — but one thing I beg, 
 do not repent, when you have left me, that 
 you told me what you did ; it does not hurt 
 me, it helps me. Ah, I beg — it helps me. 
 I had to know it, and it is well." 
 
 The Professorin composed herself, and as 
 she praised Manna's truthful impulses, the 
 girl shook her head, saying : — 
 
 44 1 will not be praised, I do not deserve 
 it ; I do not deserve the whole truth, for I 
 am hiding something myself." 
 
 The Professorin felt what a heavy weight 
 she had brought upon the child, and she ex- 
 plained to her how the Superior had cured 
 her troubles, like a physician who does not 
 tell his patient all. Manna gazed wonder- 
 ingly at her, as she said : — 
 
 "lam sorry that I too have not been 
 quite sincere with you." 
 
 " You too ?" 
 
 "Yes, I have not told you that your 
 father came here with me ; that he is wait- 
 ing for my return on the other shore, and 
 hoping that you will go home with us." 
 
 Manna rose and sat down again hastily. 
 44 The father hides from his child and sends 
 strangers ! " she murmured to herself. 
 44 Come with me to the Superior," she sud- 
 denly exclaimed. 
 
 She seized the Professorin's hand, and 
 drew her towards the convent. Heimchen 
 came towards them, crying : — 
 
 "No, Manna, you must not go away 
 and leave me here alone." 
 
 "Come with us," answered Manna, tak- 
 ing the child by the hand. 
 
 She went to the Superior and asked per- 
 mission to go with Frau Dournay to her 
 father, who was waiting for her on the 
 main-land. 
 
 44 Send for him to come here." 
 
 44 No, I would rather go to him." 
 
 Permission was granted. It was difficult 
 for Manna to free herself from Heimchen, 
 who could be pacified only by Manna's sol- 
 emn promise to return. • 
 
 Manna sat gazing into the water while 
 they were in the boat. With Frau Dour- 
 nay, she entered the garden of the inn, 
 where they found Sonnenkamp and Pran- 
 ken sitting in the shade of the arbor. 
 
 ' ' You are going home with us ? " cried 
 Sonnenkamp to his daughter. 
 
 She received his embrace, but did not 
 return it. Pranken greeted Manna joy- 
 fully, and as she extended her hand to him, 
 said smiling : — 
 
 44 1 have hardened my hand, but my heart 
 is still soft, perhaps too soft." 
 
 Manna cast down her eyes. There was 
 some merry jesting about the manner in 
 which Pranken had settled himself here in 
 the neighborhood. He described pleasantly 
 how his new life 'struck him; there was a 
 fresh vigor in his bearing, and a tone of 
 warm feeling in all his words. He saw with 
 satisfaction what impression his deportment 
 made upon Manna, who said, at last, that 
 she believed she might speak openly before 
 this gentleman and lady, who were not 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 275 
 
 really strangers though not members of her 
 own family. She was not yet quite, re- 
 solved, but she felt a real lodging to leave 
 the convent very soon, or still better, not 
 to return to it again, letting her father or 
 the Professorin go over to say good-bye for 
 her. 
 
 "Maya friend say a word about it?" 
 asked Pranken, as Sonnenkamp loudly ex- 
 pressed his joy. 
 
 Manna begged him to speak, and he ex- 
 plained that, as a friend, he would urge 
 Manna to act properly and worthily ; what- 
 ever might have passed, it was Manna's 
 duty not to break too abruptly the close 
 and holy ties which had united her with the 
 convent, and, above all, with the Superior; 
 hardness and ingratitude towards others 
 left a weight and bitterness in the soul. He 
 must believe, that, as Manna had entered 
 the convent from her own wish and a pure 
 resolve, she would leave it in all kindness 
 and friendly feeling. It seemed to him the 
 right course that Manna should return for a 
 short time, to take leave of her companions 
 and the holy sisterhood quietly and consid- 
 erately. He repeated, that though he de- 
 sired nothing more earnestly than to have 
 Manna return to the outer world as soon as 
 possible, and as fully as possible, still he 
 considered it the duty of a friend to save 
 from remorse and inward disquiet one to 
 whom he stood in.,any near relation. There 
 was more than excellence, there was a real 
 nobility, in Pranken's manner as he said all 
 this, and various were the looks and 
 thoughts of the three who were watching 
 him. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was angry, and yet he said 
 to himself: "After all, aristocratic blood 
 knows what's the proper thing. 11 
 
 The Professorin believed that Pranken 
 meant to win Manna anew by these noble 
 sentiments ; Manna herself was quite sub- 
 dued. 
 
 "You are right, 11 she exclaimed, as she 
 extended her hand and held Pranken's 
 firmly. , "You show me what is right. I 
 thank you, and will follow your advice." 
 
 Sorinenkamp was beside himself as he 
 saw his dearest wish again disappointed ; 
 but still greater was his astonishment, when 
 the Professorin expressed her acquiescence. 
 
 After Manna had begged Pranken to 
 avoid any meeting with her until she re- 
 turned home, they all walked down to the 
 shore, and the two ladies returned to the 
 island. 
 
 Heimchen, who had wept constantly, had 
 already been put to bed, and was still 
 mourning that Manna had gone. Manna 
 went to her'and found her crying, and her 
 
 pillow wet with tears ; she dried her eyes 
 and talked to her till she went to sleep ; and 
 while pacifying her, and promising all sorts 
 of good things, she became calmer herself. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 NIGHT AND MORNING AT THE CONVENT. 
 
 Until it was quite late, Manna walked up 
 and down the broad pathway on the island, 
 holding the Superior and the Professorin by 
 the hand. It seemed to her, that two loving 
 potencies, each of which had its own valid 
 claim, were contending to get possession of 
 her. 
 
 It would be difficult to say how they came 
 upon the topic, but the two ladies were dis- 
 cussing the subject of*dogmatic belief. The 
 Professorin maintained that salvability con- 
 sisted in a willingness to perceive and ac- 
 knowledge a wrong impulse, an error, or a 
 transgression. The Superior agreed with 
 this, but showed that one was always liable 
 to return to a false view in the highest 
 things, if a fixed and unalterable revealed 
 doctrine, continually published anew through 
 some infallible medium, did not provide a 
 remedy against error ; otherwise, one never 
 knew whether he had not fallen into it afresh, 
 and can never be freed from the pain of 
 choosing. 
 
 The Superior had always a positive belief 
 to fall back upon, while the Professorin was 
 obliged to find some new basis and reason 
 for every question that came up, which 
 made her appear unsettled and doubtful. 
 And this apparent indecision was increased 
 by the feeling she had of not being justified 
 in contending against a faith so firm and so 
 beneficent in its influence. An unrest, like 
 that of a spy, who, from the highest patri- 
 otic motives, inspects an enemy 1 s camp, 
 characterized her whole manner, and she 
 blamed herself for having undertaken the 
 commission 1 . But she was now at the post, 
 and must defend her views. Wishing to 
 find some impregnable position, she repre- 
 sented to Manna that her father wanted to 
 organize a general plan of systematic char- 
 ity, and that it would be a noble vocation 
 for her to take part in it. The Superior 
 waited for Manna to reply, and she now 
 said : — 
 
 " My father's donations do not fall into 
 the right hands ; we can do nothing but re- 
 store the property to him who alone has the 
 right to determine what use shall be made 
 of it. 11 
 
 There was more in Manna's reply than 
 appeared on the surface. 
 
 The Professorin remarked that every 
 poor man was a messenger of mercy, and 
 
276 
 
 THE COUNTRY-nOUSE ON THE RHINE 
 
 every one who needed help made a demand 
 for sacrifices ; that it was not enough to 
 bestow gifts, but one must personally devote 
 himself to the distressed. The- alms was 
 not the important thing, but the pains which 
 one must take on the supplicant's account. 
 How often a man, as he goes along the street 
 in winter, well wrapped up in his furs, be- 
 stows an alms upon a poor, freezing beggar ! 
 For him to unbutton his coat, and to look 
 for something to give, is of more account 
 than the gift itself, at least to the giver. 
 
 Manna answered that women could not 
 do such a work by themselves. The Supe- 
 rior joined in, saying that she had advised 
 decidedly against Manna's taking the veil, 
 for it was to be feared that she had no true 
 vocation for it. Then she added in a sharp 
 tone to the Professorin : — " We are wholly 
 indifferent to the accusation of having tried 
 to get possession of the child's property ; 
 we do not despise the wealth, we can do a 
 great deal of good with it; but it is the 
 child's soul that we value, and we do not 
 stop to inquire whether worldlings believe 
 it or not." 
 
 The Professorin was glad to find herself 
 at last in the cell where she was to sleep. 
 She had never slept at a convent, and she 
 had again the disagreeable feeling of being 
 a traitress and a spy. She said to herself 
 with a smile : — 
 
 " I am rejoiced now that I forgot Parker's 
 book ; it would be a fresh treachery to have 
 and to read his words and his thoughts here 
 in this house." 
 
 She gave up the purpose of exerting an 
 influence over Manna, for here were prior 
 experiences which were beyond her control, 
 and relations that were involved in obscur- 
 ity. A deep sorrow preyed upon the child, 
 which could only be revealed at the con- 
 fessional, and which perhaps there only could 
 find relief. 
 
 The Professorin was deeply disturbed, 
 and had troubled dreams. She seemed to 
 be in the midst of Wallenstein's camp, and 
 in fetters as a spy ; she was being interro- 
 gated by the sergeant of the guard, when, 
 all of a sudden, he was changed into Pro- 
 fessor Einsiedel, who said to her : — 
 
 " Be not afraid, I have influence on every 
 one here, I will set you at liberty." 
 
 Then she was standing in the midst of the 
 court-circle, and all were laughing at the 
 vivandi&re — years ago when she was a 
 young, frolicsome girl, she had once taken 
 that part — and now, as she met the glance 
 of her son, she felt ashamed of her appear- 
 ance. 
 
 These dreams whirled through her brain 
 
 in strange confusion. She was rejoiced, on 
 waking, to find that it was all a dream. 
 
 The hour for rising at the convent was a 
 very early one, but long before the matin 
 bell of the church rang, the Professorin had 
 dressed, and stood watching from her cell 
 the breaking day. The impressions of her 
 troubled dreams faded like the mists on the 
 river, which were now struggling with the 
 dawning light. She dwelt in imagination 
 upon the hundreds of young souls who now 
 lay asleep, preparing to meet a peaceful 
 future. She thought upon the nuns who 
 had renounced life, to whom the day brought 
 no event of personal interest, nothing but 
 the uniform round of duty. 
 
 She shuddered as she thought of ventur- 
 ing to disturb such a life. 
 
 There may be many incidental and casual 
 irregularities here, she thought, but a holy 
 will has authority over these spirits ; and at 
 this early morning hour, a saying of her 
 husband's recurred to her: — 
 , " You can oppose an established positive 
 religion only by having more religion than 
 is embodied in it. The idea of the pure is 
 persecuted, hunted down, obscured, in the 
 world ; and the hand must be sure of its 
 high consecration, which ventures to at- 
 tack a sanctuary ofthat idea." 
 
 The morning sun had become lord over 
 the mist, shining brightly over river and 
 mountains. The convent-bell rang, and the 
 great house was all astir. 
 
 The Professorin went down, and knelt 
 behind a pillar ; the sisters and the children 
 assembled together. 
 
 She remained until the morning service 
 had ended, and then going into the dining- 
 hall, she begged Manna and the Superior 
 to permit her to take leave. They accom- 
 panied her to the shore. 
 
 The Professorin exhorted Manna to stay 
 at the convent, and devote herself to reflec- 
 tion and pure thought. She spoke with 
 such earnestness that the Superior, taking 
 her by the hand, uttered in a low tone what 
 was evidently a prayer. 
 
 The Professorin perceived that her old 
 friend was praying in her behalf. Ancl why 
 should there not- be just as good grounds 
 for this form, as for an inward thought and 
 wish for another, on whom one would in- 
 voke every blessing, unexpressed in words ? 
 With a light heart, she was set over to the 
 main-land. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was surprised that she did 
 not have Manna with her ; but she said, in 
 explanation, that she would not interfere 
 any farther in this matter. She went back 
 with Sonnenkamp to the villa. On board 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 277 
 
 the boat, she sketched out in full the plan 
 of an organized system of charity, which 
 must be so arranged that Manna could go 
 from one sanctuary into another. 
 
 Sonnenkamp listened in silence, but in 
 no pleasant humor. The whole world 
 seemed to have entered into a conspiracy 
 against him, to make of him a sanctified 
 hypocrite. 
 
 Yesterday, Pranken had made the same 
 demand upon him, and he had said in reply, 
 that it was a contemptible thing for the 
 very nobility to be desirous of playing the 
 hypocrite; but Pranken had insisted prin- 
 cipally upon the religious obligation. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had shrugged his shoulders, 
 
 for the man kept his mask on even when he 
 was alone with him. He only consented after 
 Pranken had added, that, by this means, 
 the Court would not only be justified in 
 conferring the title of nobility, but would 
 feel bound to do it. Here now was Frau 
 Dournay making a similar demand ; and 
 this was so far good, that her intentions 
 were most likely honest. 
 
 The journey home was not very animated, 
 for they were ' returning from a bootless 
 errand. Sonnenkamp was disturbed be- 
 cause he was called upon to do this and 
 that, and no object had yet been accom- 
 plished. 
 
278 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 TIIE FORBIDDEN FRUIT IN EDEN. 
 
 A strange spirit, meanwhile, made its ap- 
 pearance at Villa Eden. It was kept in con- 
 cealment, and yet had nothing spectral ; it 
 was bright and luminous, and yet produced 
 a great hurly-burly. 
 
 The morning after the departure of Eric's 
 mother, Roland had gone to the vine-cov- 
 ered cottage, to get a book out of the library 
 for Eric. With the simple desire of seeing 
 how it looked now the Mother was away, he 
 had entered the open door of her room. An 
 open book was lying upon the table, and on 
 the fly-leaf there was written in English : To 
 my friend Dournay — Theodore Parker. 
 
 Roland was startled. This is the man, 
 then, whom the Mother had spoken of as a 
 saint a few days ago, and whom he was to 
 get acquainted with by and by. He took 
 the book and secreted it. 
 
 At noon, he asked permission to go and 
 see Claus, and it was given. Eric remained 
 at home, for he wanted to finish a letter to 
 Professor Einsiedel that be had begun some 
 time ago. But Roland did not go to see 
 Claus ; he sat down under the lofty willows 
 by the river-bank, steadily reading, with oc- 
 casional glances at the stream. 
 
 What does this mean ? Here is a cham- 
 pion, an inspired one, a God-revering 
 champion, fighting for civilization and 
 against slavery, lie read of a man, whose 
 name was John Brown, who was hanged 
 on the gallows at Harper's Ferry for his 
 attempts ^o abolish slavery. He read 
 and learned how Parker had prophesied a 
 mighty struggle ; and these words fell into 
 the youth's soul like a spark of fire : " All 
 the great charters of humanity are written 
 in blood." 
 
 He read on and on, until he could see 
 no longer for the darkness. And now it 
 occurred to him that he had meant to call 
 upon Claus, and he hurried towards the vil- 
 lage. 
 
 Eric met him as he was going, and was 
 very angry at being deceived. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " asked Eric. 
 
 " With this man ;" handing Eric the book. 
 
 Roland had eaten forbidden fruit from 
 the tree of knowledge, and Eric was sur- 
 prised to see how deep an impression had 
 been made upon the youth. A new and 
 difficult task was before him, to keep the 
 youth from saying anything in his father's 
 presence. 
 
 " Who is Brown ? " inquired Roland. 
 " Can you tell me about him ? " 
 
 Eric told him. He narrated the martyr's 
 history, and dwelt with emphasis on the 
 
 fact, that even in our day life is offered as 
 a sacrifice, and that a pure self-surrender 
 raises to the sublime even the man wearing 
 a captain's gay uniform of the present day. 
 He wanted to show, incidentally, that the 
 costume of every, age and every condition 
 in life could be the symbolic expression of 
 the highest greatness ; but Roland did not 
 go along with him, and he had the appar- 
 ently difficult task of justifying, or, at least, 
 of explaining the position of Sonnenkamp, 
 who had incontrovertibly taken the oppo- 
 site side. 
 
 " Yes, yes," exclaimed Roland ; " now I 
 remember you said, when we were with the 
 Russian at Wolfsgarten, 'You could not 
 imagine that a white boy and a negro boy 
 could be comrades.' Are you, too, a friend 
 of slavery ? " 
 
 Eric tried to explain his meaning; and, 
 while striving to reconcile the difference, he 
 was pleased to notice how open the youth's 
 soul was to every impression, and how te- 
 naciously it clung to things spoken of only 
 in a cursory and incidental way. 
 
 Eric sat with Roland until it was very 
 late ; he was obliged to satisfy his ingenu- 
 ous mind, and this was almost the hardest 
 task that had ever been laid upon him. The 
 youth was to be made to perceive that there 
 wasanother.wav of considering the ques- 
 tion, one that regarded slavery as justifiable 
 and a righteous necessity ; he was never to 
 let his father know that he considered him 
 in the wrong, and that he had happened to 
 become acquainted, through the Professorin, 
 with a spirit that ought not to have been 
 conjured up in this house. Eric called to 
 mind his mother, who had admonished him, 
 with reason, that he was to adopt that 
 course of instruction for Roland which was 
 necessary, and not that which the youth him- 
 self preferred. Circumstances now rendered 
 it necessary to follow only that track which 
 the youth had entered upon for himself. It 
 was a matter of rejoicing that he had of 
 himself struck out the path ; it was just 
 what all education proposed : and now was 
 he to turn aside from this track, and to 
 shatter in pieces the abiding fundamental 
 principle, Thou shalt, and thou shalt not ? 
 
 " It seems to me like a dream," Roland 
 went on to say; " a great negro once held 
 me in his arms ; I remember distinctly all 
 about him ; I remember his woolly hair, and 
 how I pulled him by it ; his face was smooth, 
 without any beard at all." 
 . " The negroes have no growth of beard," 
 added Eric, and the youth continued, dream- 
 ilv : — 
 
 "I have been carried by negroes — by 
 I negroes." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 279 
 
 He continued to repeat the word in a 
 lower and lower tone, and then became si- 
 lent. Suddenly he passed his hand over his 
 brow, and asked, — 
 
 " Are the people who are slaves fond of 
 their children ? Do you know any song 
 they sing ? " 
 
 Eric had very little to say in reply. Ro- 
 land wanted to know how all the ancient 
 nations regarded slavery. Eric could give 
 him only a superficial statement ; he pro- 
 ceeded to open his letter to Professor 
 Einsiedel, and requested that he would tell 
 him what books treated upon the subject of 
 slavery among the Jews, Greeks, Romans, 
 and especially the ancient Germans. 
 
 When Roland was at last ready to go to 
 bed, he produced Thomas ä Kempis, and 
 placed it beside Theodore Parker. 
 
 " I would like to imagine," he said, " how 
 they would regard one another, if they stood 
 side by side. I fancy Thomas a Kempis to 
 be an extremely devout, refined monk ; 
 and when I imagine Theodore Parker, I 
 think of him as a grandson or great grand- 
 son of Benjamin Franklin." 
 
 Eric was more and more amazed, for he 
 saw how deeply Roland had thought about 
 them both. 
 
 Thomas a Kempis makes men recluses, 
 leads them continually into themselves, and 
 then above the human world ; Parker also 
 leads men into themselves, but afterwards 
 out of themselves and into the world 
 around them. 
 
 When Roland and Eric went, the next 
 day, to post the letter to Professor Einsie- 
 del, they saw the boat coming up the river, 
 on which were the Mother and Sonnenkamp. 
 They made a signal, and repaired to the 
 landing. Roland was astonished that Man- 
 na had not come with them, for his father 
 had promised to bring her. Sonnenkamp 
 went on in advance with Eric, and asked 
 after the household. He seemed in a very 
 bad humor. 
 
 Roland detained the Mother, and when 
 the others were out of hearing, he asked 
 her : — 
 
 "Did Manna tell you too that she was 
 an Iphigenia ? " 
 
 " No. What did she mean by that ? 11 
 " I don't know." 
 
 The Mother pressed her lips together ; 
 she had some idea of what she meant ; she 
 understood her lamentation, and her thank- 
 fulness to God, for having called her to en- 
 dure the extreme of woe. She inquired 
 about the connection in which the expres- 
 sion had been used, but Roland interrupted 
 
 her by telling her that he had read the 
 book which she had forgotten. 
 
 The Mother was startled, but felt more 
 at ease when Roland related to her that 
 Eric had set him right in the matter, and 
 that he himself would be sure to keep the 
 secret. 
 
 Nevertheless, she was deeply troubled, 
 on reaching the villa, at having brought 
 hither a spirit which could not dwell Under 
 the roof. The freedom of her soul was 
 taken away, for that which she had kept in 
 concealment had now begun to exert -an in- 
 fluence openly. It was no longer subject 
 to her control, and it might suddenly appear 
 in a frightful and perplexing form. 
 
 Frau Ceres was sick again. Fräulein 
 Perini could not be spared a moment, and 
 sent her thanks for the kindly greeting of 
 the Professorin and Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Like a child who is always bright and 
 cheerful, always living in the present mo- 
 ment, disturbed by no confusion, and no 
 subtleties of thought, — so appeared the 
 Major, and every one took delight in his 
 steadfastand natural equability. He thought 
 it was well that Manna had not returned 
 now ; when the castle was completed, it 
 would be just the nicest thing: out of the 
 convent into the castle. He should be glad 
 when they were all together again ; he 
 couldn't stand this everlasting starting off 
 and bursting away from each other like a 
 bomb-shell ; there wasn't a better and finer 
 place than right here in the country, and 
 they couldn't get anywhere more than sky, 
 and water, and mountains, and trees. 
 
 The Major cheered up the company, who 
 were sitting at the tea-table in a strangely 
 absent mood. The Professorin afterwards 
 accompanied him home. She sat talking 
 with Friiulein Milch until it was quite late, 
 and appointed her as first assistant in the 
 charitable organization. She seemed ex- 
 actly fitted for it, as she knew everybody and 
 everybody's circumstances. She desired 
 that, for the first thing, a dozen sewing 
 machines should be distributed in the sur- 
 rounding villages ; she would herself teach 
 the women and girls how to use them. 
 
 The Major and Friiulein Milch accompa- 
 nied the Mother back to the villa by star- 
 light. She was refreshed and strengthened. 
 Her soul was peaceful, and a saying of Goe- 
 the's seemed to be sounding within her : — 
 " Thou canst not perceive what thou art by 
 reflection, but only by seeking to perform 
 thy duty." 
 
 She had a work before her that would 
 uplift her and the whole neighborhood. 
 
280 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 A NEW DOOR IN THE WALL. 
 
 The Professors widow accompanied the 
 Doctor for several days in his professional 
 rounds. She ob.tained in this way, by di- 
 rect observation, an insight into the country 
 life. 
 
 She laid before Sonnenkamp a plan ma- 
 tured by herself and Fräulein Milch, which 
 he very readily assented to, especially that 
 part relating to the furnishing of sewing 
 machines. Besides being an American 
 " institution, 1 ' this would create a good deal 
 of talk. He made a trip to the capital 
 himself, and bought the machines. 
 
 He took great pleasure in hearing the 
 widow speak of the satisfaction she derived 
 from having the ability to do so much good, 
 formerly through the Princess, and now 
 through Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 
 "How does it happen," he inquired of 
 her, " that the poor, or the comparatively 
 poor, are united together so much more 
 closely than the rich ? 11 
 
 " I have never reflected upon the matter," 
 she replied with an embarrassed smile, "but 
 if I should now express an opinion upon it, 
 I should say, that the rich man clings to his 
 property, and is obliged to think of himself ; 
 he can't do otherwise. He is not permitted 
 to survey the lot of others ; his soul, his 
 eye, if I may use the expression, does not 
 have the beseeching glance of him who sits 
 forlorn by the wayside. But the poor man 
 is hoping, waiting ; he has nothing but a 
 bundle in his hands, or probably nothing 
 but his empty hands ; he is independent of 
 others, and dependent on them too." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was very eloquent in praise 
 of this considerate, indulgent view, as he 
 termed it ; and the Professorin was delight- 
 ed with the polite manner and the delicacy 
 of this man, apparently so bad and selfish. 
 
 " Perhaps," she continued, blushing deep- 
 ly, " perhaps we might take an illustration 
 from the animal world." 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 She was silent, and only replied after 
 Sonnenkamp had repeated the question : — 
 
 " I will give you my thought, crude as it 
 is. I was thinking of the beasts of prey 
 who live singly ; and wolves only herd to- 
 gether when there is some common booty to 
 be got, the rest of the time, each living by 
 himself. The herbivorous animals, on the 
 contrary, live together in herds, and afford 
 a common protection." 
 
 She interrupted herself smiling, and then 
 continued : — 
 
 "My wisdom is of yesterday, and it is not 
 
 worth very much. The field-guard, Claus, 
 told me that, in autumn, the birds which feed 
 upon grain assemble in flocks, but those 
 which live upon insects do not." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was very amiable. The 
 Professorin added in continuation : — 
 
 " But yet the granivorous birds are no 
 more virtuous than the insectivorous ; each 
 kind lives in accordance with its own law." 
 
 Sonnenkamp became more and more 
 charmed with the Professorin ; she spread 
 his table with viands which could not be im- 
 ported from abroad, and which the garden 
 did not supply. 
 
 The journals, day after day, now pub- 
 lished Herr Sonnenkamp's praiseworthy en- 
 deavors to ameliorate the condition of the 
 people. The Cabinetsrathin came, and 
 congratulated him upon the excellent result, 
 adding that, according to a report from her 
 husband, this noble deed of Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp had been noticed in the highest quar- 
 ter. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was now exceedingly zeal- 
 ous. He was anxious that there should be 
 no intermission in the public notices, and 
 that something should be said about him 
 every day. Pranken, however, who had 
 returned from his farming escapade, showed 
 that it would be better to hold up a little, 
 and then to come down upon the public with 
 a fresh sensation. He had evidently heard 
 of the good impression which the Profess- 
 orin had made at the convent, and of the 
 earnest exhortation to Manna; and when 
 Sonnenkamp unfolded to him his plan of 
 having the Professorin reside there per- 
 manently, he immediately assented to it. 
 
 A path was laid out from the villa to the 
 vine-covered house, through the beautiful 
 meadows and along the river-bank. Son- 
 nenkamp invited the Professorin, on a cer- 
 tain day, to accompany him into the garden, 
 ♦and all the family must go with them. 
 
 A new gateway had been made in the 
 wall which surrounded the park. Sonnen- 
 kamp said that the Professorin should be the 
 first one to pass through it. He gave her 
 the key, and she opened the gate. She 
 went through it and along the pathway, fol- 
 lowed by the whole family, and Pranken 
 among them. 
 
 They proceeded to the vine-covered cot- 
 tage, and the Professorin was amazed to 
 find here all her household furniture, and 
 the library of her husband arranged in good 
 order. 
 
 Aunt Claudine was here too ; for Sonnen- 
 kamp had contrived that she should be re- 
 leased from Clodwig. 
 
 Sonncnkamp introduced, with a sort of 
 pride, his valet Joseph, who had made all 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 281 
 
 these arrangements, as a native son of the 
 university. 
 
 The Professorin expressed her thanks to 
 Joseph, and shook hands with him. 
 
 Pretty soon the Major came ; and when the 
 Professorin inquired after Fräulein Milch, he 
 stammeringly made an apology in her be- 
 half. It was plainly wrong in his view, that 
 Fräulein Milch should so persistently refuse 
 to go into society. 
 
 The Professorin had not recovered from 
 her amazement and satisfaction when Clod- 
 wig and Bella arrived. Provision had been 
 made for a cheerful repast in the garden, 
 and Roland gave expression to the general 
 feeling, when he said : — 
 
 " Now I have a grandmother and an aunt, 
 safe in their nest." 
 
 In the evening, Eric received a large 
 package of books and a letter from Pro- 
 fessor Einsiedel, and also a large sheet of 
 memoranda. He commended Eric's inten- 
 tion of writing a treatise upon the idea and 
 nature of slavery, as it would prove a very 
 fertile theme. 
 
 Eric put away Ae books, for he regarded 
 it as a fortunate thing that Roland's 
 thoughts were occupied neither upon slavery 
 nor free labor, nor any kindred topic, but 
 with something entirely different. 
 
 The son of the Cabinetsräthin, the cadet, 
 was now at the newly acquired country-seat, 
 on furlough, and he exhorted Roland to be 
 diligent, so as to be able before long to en- 
 ter the military school. 
 
 Roland was now wholly bent upon enter- 
 ing the highest class, at the earliest possible 
 moment. He spoke of it daily to his father 
 and Pranken. The father one day took him 
 aside and said : — 
 
 " My child, it is well, and I am glad 
 that you are so diligent in getting fitted, 
 but you will not enter — take notice, I 
 show my respect for you by this communi- 
 cation ; I look upon you as a grown-up 
 and mature man." 
 
 He stopped, and Roland asked, — 
 
 " When is it that I am to enter ? " 
 
 " Come nearer, and I will whisper it to 
 you ; you are to enter wheij you are a no- 
 ble." 
 
 "Ia noble ? and you too ? " 
 
 " Yes, all of us ; and for your sake I 
 must become ennobled, as you will see by 
 and by. Do you feel glad at being made a 
 noble"?" 
 
 " Do you know, father, when I first be- 
 gan to respect nobility ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at him inquiringly, 
 and Roland continued: — 
 
 " At the railroad station, where I saw a 
 crazy, drunken man. Everybody showed 
 
 respect for him, because he was a nobleman, 
 a baron. It is a great thing to be a noble- 
 man." 
 
 Roland now gave an account of the meet- 
 ing on the morning after his flight, and 
 Sonnenkamp was surprised at the astonish- 
 ing effect produced upon" him, and at the 
 lasting impression everything made. He 
 now said : — 
 
 "Give me your hand, as a pledge that 
 you will say nothing about this to your mas- 
 ter, Eric, until I shall tell him myself. On 
 the word of an officer." 
 
 After some delay and deliberation, Roland 
 gave his hand. 
 
 His father now proceeded to explain to 
 him how disagreeable it would be to enter 
 the military school under a citizen's name, 
 and while there to be ennobled. ' 
 
 Roland inquired why he was not to say 
 anything about it to Eric. 
 
 His father refused to tell him why, de- 
 manding unconditional obedience. 
 
 And so Roland had now a two-fold secret 
 to keep, one from his father, and the other 
 from Eric. The youth's soul was distressed, 
 and it found an odd expression in the ques- 
 tion he once put to Eric : — 
 
 " Do the negroes in their native land have 
 nobles too ? " 
 
 "There are no nobles in their own 
 right," replied Eric; " individual men be- 
 long to the nobility only when, and only so 
 long, as others regard them as such." 
 
 Eric had thought that Roland's zeal for 
 the military school had excluded all his 
 former notions and speculations ; but he 
 now saw that they were still active, and had 
 become connected with odd associations, 
 which he could not explain to himself satis- 
 factorily. But he took heed to make no 
 further inquiry. 
 
 During his furlough, the son of the Cabin- 
 etsräthin was very constant in attendance 
 upon the lessons given to Roland, and Son- 
 nenkamp, having her sanction, proposed 
 that ' the young cadet should leave the 
 school for a time, and be instructed in com- 
 pany with Roland. 
 
 Roland was highly pleased with this plan, 
 but Eric objected ; and when Sonnenkamp 
 stated to him that he had formerly desired 
 that Roland should have a comrade who 
 should receive instruction with him, Eric 
 found great difficulty in explaining to him 
 that it was now inexpedient ; that the course 
 of instruction he had undertaken with 
 Roland was adapted exclusively to him, and 
 that now any comradeship, and any refer- 
 ence to another's condition and progress, 
 would be only a disturbing element. 
 
 Eric, by this means, alienated not only 
 
282 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp and the Cabinetsrathin, 
 but also lor a time his pupil himself, who 
 was out of humor and refractory, after the 
 cadet had returned to the capital. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 STEEL-TRAPS IN THE POETS' GARDEN. 
 
 Sonnenkamp prided himself in growing 
 the best wines ; but the traditional account 
 of the joyous celebration of the harvest- 
 home is a mere fable. In the morning the 
 mists were hanging far and wide over the 
 valleys, and in the early evening they shut 
 out the whole landscape. The leaves had 
 fallen from the trees, and the hoar frost 
 glistened on the bare twigs, when at last 
 the grapes were gathered and pressed. . 
 
 The Major would not allow it to be 
 thought of for a moment, that they should 
 omit firing their salute ; he took extreme 
 satisfaction in his two comrades, Eric and 
 Roland, who fired at his word of command, 
 so that the three reports sounded as one. 
 But this was the whole celebration of the 
 merry harvest-home. 
 
 Fires had been already made at the villa, 
 and Sonnenkamp's pride in each stove hav- 
 ing its own chimney was shown to be well 
 founded. But it was a truly festive occa- 
 sion when the Professorin had a fire kindled 
 for the first time in her sitting-room. She 
 had invited Eric and Roland to be present, 
 and Fräulein Milch happened to be there. 
 And as they sat together before the open 
 fire-place, in serene and homelike content, 
 it would be hard to say precisely what it 
 was that made them so cheery and peaceful. 
 
 The Mother exhorted Eric to resume his 
 habit of reading aloud, in the cosy winter 
 evenings, some great poems, and he prom- 
 ised to do so. He felt that he must make 
 some extra effort to dispel the coldness pro- 
 duced by his refusal to receive as a pupil 
 the son of the Cabinetsrathin. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, who had an extensive hunt- 
 ing-park, sent out cards inviting some per- 
 sons of the best society to a hunting-party. 
 Invitations also came from the neighbors, 
 and Erie was able to be present with Ro- 
 land at a great hunting-party as often as 
 once a week. 
 
 Roland was proud of his father's skill in 
 the chase ; he was regarded by all as the 
 leader, and the whole company listened 
 with pleasure to his accounts of grand hunts 
 in America. He had even made a short 
 excursion to Algiers, and there shot a lion, 
 whose skin was now under his writing-table ; 
 it was meant for a sleigh-robe, but here in 
 the country, a merry sleigh-ride was a rare 
 thing. 
 
 The supper after the chase, in a large 
 apartment fitted up for the purpose, was 
 always of the merriest sort. The Major 
 was here in his element, and officiated as 
 lord of the castle ; he spoke of the evenings 
 which Eric enlivened at Villa Eden by 
 reading the ancient and modern dramas ; he 
 never knew before that there were so many 
 fine things in the world, and that one indi- 
 vidual man could make everything so plain 
 merely by his voice. 
 
 . Eric had read aloud almost without ex- 
 ception one evening every week. The im- 
 pression made upon the hearers was various. 
 The Major always sat with his hands de- 
 voutly folded ; Frau Ceres reclined in her 
 easy-chair, occasionally opening her eyes, 
 to show that she was not asleep ; Fraulein 
 Perini was employed with some hand-work, 
 which she prosecuted steadily, exhibiting 
 no emotion ; the Mother and the Aunt sat 
 there quietly ; Sonnenkamp had a standing 
 request that they would excuse his rudeness. 
 Turning to Roland, he said good-humored- 
 
 }y> — 
 
 " Don't get this bad habit — don't get in 
 the way of having a stick in your hand to 
 whittle." 
 
 And so he sat and whittled away, occa- 
 sionally looking up with a fixed stare, hold- 
 ing the knife in his right hand and the 
 piece of Avood in his left ; then he would 
 resume his whittling. 
 
 Roland always seated himself opposite 
 the reader, so that Eric must look him in 
 the face. Often, until it was very late, 
 Roland would talk with Eric about the 
 wonderful things he had been listening to. 
 
 Eric had been reading Macbeth, and he 
 was glad to hear Roland say, — 
 
 " This Lady Macbeth could easily be 
 transformed into a witch, like one of those 
 who came in at the beginning.'" 
 
 Another time, when Eric had been read- 
 ing Hamlet, he was not a little surprised at 
 hearing Roland say to him in the evening, 
 before going to bed, — 
 
 "Strange! Hamlet, in that soliloquy, 
 speaks of no one returning from the other 
 Avorld, when, only a short time before, the 
 spirit of his father had 'appeared, and he 
 appears again afterwards." 
 
 One evening, after Eric had read Goethe's 
 Iphigenia, Roland said, — 
 
 "I can't make out at all why Manna said 
 once that she was Iphigenia. If she were 
 Iphigenia, I should be Orestes. I, Orestes ? 
 I? Why was it? Do you understand 
 Manna's meaning ? " 
 
 Eric said no. N 
 
 One evening when the Physician and the 
 Priest were present, Sonnenkamp requested 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 283 
 
 Eric to read aloud Shakespeare's Othello. 
 Eric looked at Roland. Will not Roland 
 be stirred up to fresh questioning concern- 
 ing the negroes ? He had no reason he 
 could assign for declining, and he could 
 contrive no excuse for sending Roland 
 away. 
 
 Eric commenced reading. The fulness 
 and flexibility of his voice gave the requi- 
 site expression to each character, and he 
 preserved the proper distinction between 
 reading and theatrical presentation. He 
 brought out no strong colors ; it was an 
 artistic embodiment that allowed the out- 
 lines of form to appear, but gave no color- 
 ing; it was not an imitation of life, but a 
 simple outline drawing of the general feat- 
 ures, softened but sufficiently defined. 
 
 The Doctor nodded to the Mother, as 
 much as to say that Eric's interpretation 
 was very pleasant. 
 
 For the first time, Frau Ceres listened 
 with eager attention, without leaning back 
 once during the whole evening ; she con- 
 tinued bent forward, and her countenance 
 wore an unusual expression. 
 
 Eric read on continuously, and when he 
 was giving the close of Othello's sorrowful 
 confession of guilt, in a voice stru^ling 
 with tears, like one resisting the inclination 
 to weep, great tears ran down over the pale 
 face of Frau Ceres. 
 
 The piece was ended. 
 
 Frau Ceres rose quickly, and requested 
 the Mother to accompany her to her cham- 
 ber. 
 
 Fräulein Perini and the rest of the ladies 
 went away at the same time. The men 
 were standing up, and only Roland remained 
 sitting, as if spell-bound to the chair. 
 
 Glancing towards the Doctor, the Major 
 said, — 
 
 V Isn't this a really wonderful man? 1 ' 
 The Doctor nodded. 
 
 The Priest had his hands folded together ; 
 Sonnenkamp surveyed his whittlings, plac- 
 ing them in a little pile together, just as if 
 they had been gold-shavings, and even 
 bending down to pick up some that had 
 fallen upon the floor. Now he straightened 
 himself up and asked Eric, — 
 
 " What do you think of Desdemona's 
 guilt ? " 
 
 " Guilt and innocence, 11 replied Eric, " are 
 not positive natural conceptions ; they are 
 the result of the social and moral laws of 
 humanity. Nature deals only with the free 
 play of forces, and Shakespeare's plays ex- 
 hibit to us only this free play of natural im- 
 pulses in men and women. 11 
 
 That's true, 11 interrupted the priest. 
 " In this work there's nothing said about re- 
 
 ligion, for religion would necessarily soften, 
 ameliorate, and rule over the savage natures, 
 conducting themselves just like natural 
 forces, or rather would bring them into sub- 
 jection to the higher revealed laws." 
 
 " Fine, very fine,4' said Sonnenkamp, 
 who was quite pale ; " but permit me to ask 
 the Captain to give me an answer to my 
 question." 
 
 " I can answer your first question," Eric 
 rejoined, " only in the words of our greatest 
 writer on aesthetics : The poet would char- 
 acterize a lion, and, in order to do it, he 
 must represent him as tearing in pieces a 
 lamb. The guilt of the lamb does not come 
 into question at all. The lion must act in 
 accordance with his nature. But I think 
 that the deep tragedy of this drama lies 
 hidden." 
 
 " And what do you think it is ? " 
 
 " This maiden, Desdemona, without moth- 
 er, brother, or sister, grown up from child- 
 hood among men, might love a hero, whose 
 lyric, childlike nature, craving love and cling- 
 ing fast to her, would make him crouch like 
 a tamed lion at her feet. This submissive 
 strength, renouncing no element of its wild 
 energy, but, as it were, purified and exalted, 
 opens the well-spring of that love which 
 covers everything else with oblivion, over- 
 comes the difference of race, and washes 
 clean out the black color of the skin. 
 
 " When Othello kissed her for the first 
 time, she closed her eyes, and he kissed 
 her on the eyes ; and her eyes are closed 
 not for one instant merely, but for a long 
 period. But an unparallelled horror, a wild 
 insanity, would be the result of this shutting 
 of the eyes when Desdemona should hold 
 in her arms a child, who should appear, in 
 its whole exterior, strange, abhorrent to her, 
 like some creature that did not belong to 
 the human race. Out from her heart, 
 crushed and trampled under foot, there 
 must have come a shriek of agony. A child 
 upon her breast, a creature so unlike her- 
 self! That look, which HegCl describes as 
 the highest of all that the eye can express, 
 the first look of the mother upon the child, 
 that first mother's look must have killed 
 Desdemona, or made her raving mad." 
 
 Sonnenkamp, who had all the time been 
 rapidly shifting the whittlings about with 
 his fingers, now threw them all upon the 
 floor in a heap, and went up to Eric, hold- 
 ing both hands stretched out at length. 
 His huge frame trembled with emotion, as 
 he cried out : — 
 
 " You are a free man, a freethinker; you 
 are not to be humbugged. You are the first 
 one that ever gave me a reasonable expla- 
 nation of this antipathy. Yes, it's so. The 
 
284 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 instinct of the poet is wonderfully prophetic. 
 ' Against all rules of nature ! ' This is the 
 expression of Desdemona's father, and this 
 is the whole solution of the problem. On 
 this expression the whole turns, and every 
 part is in harmony with it. The result 
 must be, as it is, a product of nature. It's 
 against nature ! " 
 
 The men who were present had never be- 
 fore heard Sonnenkamp speak in this way, 
 and Roland, who had been staring fixedly 
 before him, looked up as if he must con- 
 vince himself that it was really his father 
 who was speaking. In an exultant tone, 
 for be observed the effect produced upon 
 them all, he continued : — 
 
 " Marriage — marriage ! The Romans 
 understood what was meant by that. Where 
 marriage is in violation of nature's laws, 
 there can be no talk of rights of humanity, 
 equality of rights. Apes, with all their 
 boasted reason, nothing but apes, are these 
 silly preachers of humanity, who build up 
 their theories and universal crotchets, with- 
 out looking at the facts, and know really 
 nothing of these brutes endowed with 
 speech, who are not human beings, but 
 everlastingly apish and malicious ! Ho, ho ! 
 thou noble friend of humanity ! " he ex- 
 claimed, striding up and down the room, 
 " Marry thy daughter to- a nigger, do that ! 
 do that ! Be in terror, every moment, that 
 he will tear her limb from joint. Hug a 
 black grandchild ! do that, noble friend of 
 humanity ! then come to me and harangue 
 about the equality of the black and the 
 white race ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp had clenched his fists, as if 
 he were clutching an antagonist by the 
 throat ; his eyes Hashed, his lips opened, 
 and his jaws snapped together like a tiger 
 leaping upon his prey. He now suddenly 
 placed his hand upon his breast, as if making 
 a powerful effort to hold himself in control. 
 
 "You, Herr Captain, and the poet, have 
 taken me somewhat by surprise, 1 ' he said, 
 with a constrained smile ; and then he again 
 repeated that Eric had gone to the root of 
 the matter. That a white girl could not 
 become the wife of a nigger was no preju- 
 dice, but a law of nature. 
 
 " I thank you," he said in conclusion, 
 turning once more towards Eric; "you 
 have given me a great deal to think about." 
 
 The men looked at each other in aston- 
 ishment, and the Doctor added, in a 
 timid way very foreign from his usual «man- 
 ner, that he must give his assent to this on 
 physiological grounds, for it was a well- 
 known fact that mixed races, in the third 
 generation, became sterile. A separation 
 
 of the races, however, does not exclude hu- 
 man rights, any more than it excluded hu- 
 man duties ; and religion laid them upon all 
 alike. 
 
 While saying this he turned towards the 
 Priest, who felt himself called upon to state 
 that the negroes were susceptible of relig- 
 ious conviction, and capable of receiving 
 religious instruction, and that this secured 
 to them the full rights of men. 
 
 " Indeed ! 11 exclaimed Sonnenkamp. <fc Is 
 that the fact ? Why then did not the Church 
 ordain the removal of slavery ? " 
 
 " Because the Church," replied the 
 Priest quietly, "has nothing to do with 
 ordaining anything of the kind. The 
 Church directs itself to the human soul, 
 and prepares it for the heavenly kingdom* 
 In what social condition the body of man, 
 the outside covering of this soul, may be, 
 we have nothing to do with ordaining or 
 determining. Neither slavery nor freedom 
 is a hindrance to the divine life. Our Lord 
 and Master called the souls of the Jews to 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven whilst 
 they were Roman citizens, and under sub- 
 jection. He called all nations through his 
 apostles, and did not stop to ask about 
 their political condition and constitution. 
 Our kingdom is the kingdom of souls, which 
 are one and the same, whether they live in 
 a republic or under a tyranny, whether 
 their bodies are white or black. We are 
 glad to have the body free, but it is not 
 our work to make it so." 
 
 " Theodore Parker takes a different 
 view," Roland suddenly exclaimed. 
 
 As if a bullet had whistled close to his 
 ears, Sonnenkamp cried, — 
 
 " What ? Where did you find out about 
 that man ? Who told you about him ? 
 How's this ? " 
 
 Roland trembled all over, for his father 
 seized him by his shoulders and shook 
 him. 
 
 "Father!" he cried out in a manly- 
 voice, "I have a free soul too! I am 
 your son, but my soul is free ! " 
 
 All were amazed. Nothing more would 
 be said about his voice changing. 
 
 Sonnenkamp let go his hold, his breast 
 heaving up and down as he panted violently 
 for breath. Suddenly he exclaimed, — 
 
 " I am very glad, my son; that's noble, 
 that's grand. You are real young America. 
 It's right ! fine ! splendid ! " 
 
 They were struck with fresh amazement. 
 This sudden change of mood in Sonnen- 
 kamp took all present by surprise. But he 
 went on in a mild tone, — 
 
 " I am glad that you were not to be 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 285 
 
 frightened. You have good pluck — it's all 
 right. Now tell me where you found out 
 about Parker ? " 
 
 Roland gave a true account of matters, 
 except that he said nothing about Parker's 
 name having been mentioned by the Profes- 
 sorin when they were making their calls 
 in the town. 
 
 "Why didn't you speak of it to me?" 
 asked his father. 
 
 "I can keep a secret," replied Roland. 
 M You've tested me yourself on that score." 
 
 "That's true, my son; you have justi- 
 fied my confidence." 
 
 " We ought to have gone home a long 
 time ago," said the Major, and this was the 
 signal for the company to break up. 
 
 The Major had never felt his heart beat 
 so violently, never when stationed on some 
 exposed outpost, never even in battle, as 
 during the reading ; and yet it beat worse, 
 after the conversation had taken so threat- 
 ening a turn. 
 
 He kept shaking his big head, and 
 stretching out with his hands in the air dep- 
 recatingly and beseechingly, as if he would 
 say, — 
 
 "For heaven's sake, drop this talk! It's 
 not good, 'twill only do harm ! " 
 
 Then he took another look at Sonnen- 
 kamp, shrugging up his shoulders. "What 
 does the man mean," he thought, "by talking 
 to us in this style ! We wouldn't put a 
 hair in his path ; what's the use of stirring 
 us up in this matter ! Oh, Fräulein Milch 
 had the right of it, when she urged him to 
 stay at home to-day. 
 
 How comfortable it would be to be sitting 
 in the arm-chair, in which Laadi is now 
 lying ! And one might have been asleep 
 two hours ago, and now it will be midnight 
 before one gets home ! And there's Fräu- 
 lein Milch sitting up, and sitting up, till he 
 comes in. It was like being saved, when 
 he took out his watch, and could say how 
 late it was. 
 
 The Professorin came back at this mo- 
 ment, and told Roland that his mother wished 
 to see him. Roland went to her. 
 
 Eric accompanied his mother and the rest, 
 as they set out for home through the 
 snowy night. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE BIRD OF NIGHT IS SHOT. 
 
 Eric walked in silence with the ladies. 
 The Mother spoke first, saying, — 
 
 " I am glad that here, again, I have words 
 of your father's to support me. Nothing 
 is more weakening and more to be avoided 
 than repentance," he often said ; the 
 
 acknowledgment that we have made a mis- 
 take must come, quick and sharp, but then we 
 must reconcile ourselves to circumstances. 
 I have deeply repented no matter how much 
 good I may do, that I have bound myself 
 to this family so firmly that any drawing 
 back or loosening of the ties is extremely 
 difficult. But now that it is done, we must 
 endeavor to make everything turn out for 
 the best." 
 
 The Aunt, who spoke but little, added 
 how painful it was that people over whose 
 lives hung some dark crime were banished, 
 as it were, from the kingdom of the spirit, 
 and must meet everywhere with terrible 
 reminders. 
 
 They went on again for a while in silence. 
 High above, from the mountain crest, they 
 heard the screech-owl, the harbinger of 
 extreme cold, uttering his dreadful cry, 
 which rose and died away with a mingled 
 tone of lamentation and of triumph. The 
 party stood still. 
 
 "Ah," said Eric, "what trouble Herr 
 Sonnenkamp has taken to destroy all the 
 owls in the neighborhood ; but he cannot do 
 it." 
 
 They walked on once more without 
 speaking. Everything seems a sign and a 
 portent to an excited mood. Hardly breath- 
 ing the words aloud, the mother said that 
 Frau Ceres' emotion was incomprehensible. 
 She had thrown herself on her neck, sobbing 
 and weeping. 
 
 " I do not know how to explain it," she 
 continued; "there is some deep mystery 
 here, and it troubles me." 
 
 Eric told them of what had passed among 
 the men, and how Roland, to his alarm, had 
 spoken of Parker. It was plain that Son- 
 nenkamp wished to erect into a moral sys- 
 tem the existing relations of slavery. 
 
 " Nothing more natural," answered the 
 Mother. " Whoever stands in such rela- 
 tions all his life long, must make something 
 for himself which he calls moral principle. I 
 cannot help thinking of your father again ; 
 he has shown me a thousand times how 
 people cannot bear to confess to themselves 
 that their life and actions are bad ; they feel 
 obliged to prop them up with good princi- 
 ples. Yet, as I said, we must be quiet, we 
 have one good young spirit to be led to 
 noble ends ; that is our part. Whence it 
 sprang, or through what past life it may 
 have come to us, is not for us to determine. 
 The past is our fate, the present, ou» duty. 
 There's another saying of your father's ; and 
 now good-night." 
 
 With a more composed mind, Eric re- 
 turned to the villa. The owl had flown 
 from the mountain, and was now perched 
 
286 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 on the top of a tree in the park, boldly 
 sending forth its cry into the air. Erie 
 heard it, and Sonnenkamp heard it in the 
 ante-room of his wife's chamber. There 
 must he, the father and husband, wait till 
 his son came out, admittance having been 
 refused him while his wife spoke to Roland. 
 At last the boy came out, and his father 
 asked him what his mother had said : he had 
 never done so before, but now he felt ob- 
 liged to do it. 
 
 Roland answered that she had really said 
 almost nothing; she had only kissed him, 
 and cried, and then asked him to hold her 
 hand till she went to sleep, and now she was 
 sleeping quietly. 
 
 "Give me Parker's book," said Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 "I haven't got it now ; the Professorin 
 took it away from me, and blamed me very 
 much for having read it secretly, and before 
 I was old enough." 
 
 "Give my regards to Herr Eric; you 
 have a better teacher than I thought," said 
 the father. 
 
 Roland went to Eric's room, but he had 
 not yet returned. 
 
 The owl's cry was heard again from the 
 tree-top in the park. Roland put out 
 the light, opened the window, took his rifle 
 from the wall, fired, and the owl fell from the 
 tree. Roland ran down stairs, met Eric, 
 and told him that he had hit the bird ; he 
 then hurried into the park and brought the 
 creature in. 
 
 The whole house was in alarm. Frau 
 Ceres was awakened, and her first cry was : 
 
 "Has he killed himself?" 
 
 Sonnenkamp and Roland had to go to her 
 room again, to show that they were alive. 
 Roland took the dead owl with him, but his 
 mother would not look at it, and only com- 
 plained of having been deprived of her sleep. 
 
 The father and the son withdrew, and 
 Sonnenkamp praised Roland for having 
 brought down the bird so promptly and 
 boldly. 
 
 Eric went back to his mother, who must 
 also have been awakened by the shot, and 
 he found her still awake ; she too had feared 
 that it had been some suicidal shot. 
 
 The whole house was in a commotion, and 
 it was some time before it could be restored 
 to quiet. 
 
 In his pride at having shot the owl, Ro- 
 land forgot everything else, and went con- 
 tentedly to bed and to sleep. 
 
 But above in the castle, and below in 
 Sonnenkamp's work-room, lights burned 
 late. Eric sat gazing at the flame, and 
 strange forms moved confusedly through 
 his mind. There was Shakespeare's play, 
 
 there were all the people who had listened 
 to it ; but more than all he tried to enter 
 into Roland's mind ; and it seemed a fortu- 
 nate thing to him, that the boy's love of 
 sport had driven away all wondering spec- 
 ulation from his mind. Action, action alone 
 makes free. Where is it, the great all-lib- 
 erating power ? It does not show itself. 
 Independent of our will, and of reflection, 
 there is a great power in the Past and in the 
 view of God working in it, which alone can 
 bring forth the deed. The deed is not 
 ours, but to be armed and ready is in our 
 power. 
 
 At last Eric found rest. 
 
 Sonnenkamp paced up and down his great 
 room like a prisoner. The lion's skin with 
 the stuffed head lay upon the floor, and the 
 eyes stared at him, till he covered the head 
 with a part of the skin. He asked himself 
 again and again what he ought to do. This 
 Herr Eric was teaching his son to oppose 
 him, and the Mother, who was always re- 
 galing them with sayings of her husband, 
 preserved in spirit, forever calling up, as 
 Pranken says, her husband's wandering 
 ghost, the departed Professor Hamlet — no, 
 she was a noble woman. 
 
 But why had he taken upon his shoulders 
 this beggarly family, so puffed up with their 
 own ideas ? He could not shake them off, 
 without attracting attention. No, he would 
 make use of them, and then throw them 
 away. 
 
 At last, a happy resolution quieted him. 
 We must have new surroundings, new di- 
 versions ; and then, straight to the goal ! 
 The day after to-morrow will be New Year's 
 day. On New Year's day we will go to the 
 capital. With this thought Sonnenkamp 
 also found rest at last. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 PLAYING COURT. 
 
 The first thing in the morning, Roland 
 wanted to carry the owl, which lay frozen 
 outside his window, to Claus, who knew 
 how to stuff birds. 
 
 All the events of the past day seemed to 
 have vanished from his mind, leaving no 
 trace, in the joy he felt ir his splendid shot. 
 
 "Stop!" cried Roland suddenly, as he 
 was stretching out the owl's wings, " stop; 
 I've just thought of what a man said to me 
 in my dreams ; he looked like Benjamin 
 Franklin, but he was thinner. I dreamed 
 that I was going to battle ; the music was 
 making a great noise, discordant, and bro- 
 ken by shouts, and every now and then the 
 man said : " A good name — a good name" 
 — and then there suddenly appeared thou- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 287 
 
 sands of black heads, nothing but black 
 heads, a perfect sea of them ; and they all 
 gnashed their teeth, and I woke up in dread- 
 ful agony." 
 
 Eric could not answer, and Roland went 
 on : — 
 
 " To-day is the last day of the year ; we 
 ought to enter upon a wholly new world to- 
 morrow ; I don't know why, but I long to 
 have it so." 
 
 Eric laid his hand on the boy's brow, 
 which was feverishly hot. 
 
 Roland was summoned to his mother, who 
 wanted him ; Eric watched him thoughtfully 
 as he went ; he felt also that a new page was 
 to be turned, without knowing what it was 
 to be. He looked towards the door, for he 
 expected that Sonnenkamp would send for 
 him. The man had shown on the previous 
 day such new and strange moods that an 
 explanation was necessary. What would it 
 be? This could not be guessed. As if in 
 a vision, Eric saw Sonnenkamp in his own 
 room, in a state of the greatest excitement, 
 sometimes bursting out violently, then calm- 
 ing himself again. He heard the steps of 
 two people approach his room. Roland en- 
 tered, holding his father's hand. 
 
 " Mother is asleep again," he said, " but 
 there is some news. Eric, we are going to 
 the capital together, to stay all winter." 
 
 " Yes, I have decided upon it," said Son- 
 nenkamp, in confirmation, after saying good- 
 morning to Eric, "and I hope "that your 
 mother will go with us." 
 
 With calm deliberation, he went on to say 
 that gay society would be good for all of 
 them, alter the loneliness of their retired life 
 in the country ; and, with a watchful look 
 at Eric, he added : — 
 
 " We shall meet your friend Clodwig, and 
 his charming wife, at the capital." 
 
 Eric looked at him calmly, and said that 
 he should feel it to be his duty to meet all 
 of Herr Sonnenkamp's social acquaintances. 
 
 " I have thought much about last even- 
 ing," began Sonnenkamp, seating himself 
 near Eric. " You are a learned and also a 
 bold man." 
 
 His manner was extremely polite, almost 
 affectionate, fqr he was inwardly happy 
 when jie could play the hypocrite ; when- 
 ever he could make fools of all around him, 
 he felt an elevating and sustaining sat- 
 isfaction. He was in such good humor 
 that' he said to Eric : — 
 
 " I hope to convert you ; to make you see 
 that the best way of living in the world is 
 to hold yourself a stranger in it, and not to 
 bother yourself about the immediate regula- 
 tion of the affairs of state." 
 
 "In some respects," answered Eric, 
 
 * ' Aristotle agreed with you ; he lived gen- 
 erally in Athens, having a sort of certificate 
 of residence without being; a regular citizen, 
 and without being responsible either actively 
 or passively in the choice of rulers ; for only 
 in this way, as an alien, could he live wholly 
 in his ideas." 
 
 " I like that. One is constantly hearing 
 something new and sensible of the old phi- 
 losophers. Then Aristotle was free also to 
 go wherever he pleased ? That's good ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked amused. These 
 learned gentlemen are very convenient; 
 they know how to find great historical rea- 
 sons for what we do selfishly or thought- 
 lessly. He smiled in a friendly way, and 
 his smile did not disappear, though Eric ex- 
 plained that what befitted a philosopher 
 like Aristotle very well would not do for 
 everybody ; for if every one were like him, 
 the world could not last ; who would under- 
 take municipal and state affairs ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp still smiled. This German 
 pedagogue is a funny fellow, he thought to 
 himself; the very hour before starting on a 
 journey, he is ready for a learned discussion. 
 Looking extremely well pleased, he said to 
 Eric : — 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you; one 
 always learns something of you ; you are al- 
 ways up to the mark." 
 
 Every word was meant to give a stab, 
 but Eric took it quite seriously, and was 
 grateful for the gratitude of Sonnenkamp, 
 who was inwardly excessively diverted by 
 this man, so childishly unsuspicious with all 
 his learning. 
 
 He desired Eric and Roland to make the 
 necessary preparations for the journey, and 
 then left the room, a servant having come 
 to say that his gracious lady was ready to 
 see his master. 
 
 He entered Frau Ceres' room. She 
 looked at him languidly as he said he was 
 glad she was better, and that she would be 
 able to undertake the journey to the capital 
 on the following day. In glowing colors he 
 represented the pleasant life in the city, upon 
 which they had a sure hold through the 
 family of the Cabinetsrathin, Count Wolfs- 
 garten and his wife, and also through Herr 
 von Endlich's family. 
 
 He added in a very confident tone : " Be 
 strong and charming, lovely Frau Ceres ; 
 you will return to these rooms a Baroness." 
 
 Frau Ceres sat up, and only mourned 
 that the dresses ordered in Paris had not yet 
 arrived. Sonnenkamp promised to tele- 
 graph directly, and promised also that the 
 Professorin should go with them, so that 
 the entrance into society could be made un- 
 der her auspices. 
 
288 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " You may kiss me, 11 said Frau Ceres. 
 
 Sonnenkamp did so, and she said, — 
 
 "I think that we shall all be very happy. 
 Ah, if I could only tell you my dream, but 
 you never like to hear about dreams, and it 
 is better that I should not tell it. But there 
 was a bird with great wings, enormously 
 large, and I was sitting on the bird, and 
 was carried through the air; and I was 
 ashamed because I was not dressed, and 
 all the people below were looking up at me, 
 and hooting, and shouting, and laughing, and 
 then the bird turned its head round, and it 
 was the Professorin, and she said : You are 
 so splendidly dressed ! and then I had all 
 my ornaments on, and my lace-trimmed 
 satin dress — but I know you don't want 
 to hear my dream." 
 
 Sonnenkamp left the room in good spir- 
 its. The day was bright, a keen, cold, 
 sparkling winter-day, when the whole land- 
 scape, every rock, every tree, stood sharply 
 out against the blue sky ; the ice had closed 
 over the Rhine, and a strange quiet, like a 
 repressed breathing, lay over the whole 
 scene. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was glad that the bright 
 daylight had driven away all the spectres 
 of the night, and brought fresh life. He im- 
 mediately gave orders in the stable, that two 
 pairs of horses and a second carriage should 
 be sent to the capital. An hour afterwards, 
 as he was walking with Eric and Roland to 
 the vine-clad cottage, they saw the horses, 
 covered with warm blankets, on the high- 
 road, already on their way to the capital. 
 Roland begged that his pony might be sent 
 also, and permission was given ; then he 
 asked which dogs he might take, and when 
 told that only one must go he could not 
 decide which it should be. 
 
 The Professorin's large sitting-room look- 
 ed like a yearly fair ; on tables and chairs 
 lay great packages of knit and woven 
 woollen garments for men and women. 
 Fraulein Milch was reading from a large 
 sheet of paper the names of various needy 
 people, and a list of the articles intended 
 for them, while the Mother and the Aunt 
 compared the bundles with the list. 
 
 When this was done, Fräulein Milch 
 called in Claus, with his wife and daughter, 
 and the Seven- piper with his whole family. 
 They were directed to deliver the bundles 
 to the people to whom they were addressed, 
 and were very ready to undertake the 
 work. 
 
 " It's very well that you don't give any 
 money," said Claus ; " but there's something 
 wanting." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 The entrance of Sonnenkamp and Roland 
 prevented his replying. 
 
 Sonnenkamp expressed much pleasure 
 with the discreet manner in which his money 
 had been used, and spoke a few friendly 
 words to Fräulein Milch, whom he had not 
 seen since the morning when Roland was 
 missing. 
 
 He asked for the Major, and learned with 
 regret that he had not been well during the 
 night, and had not slept till nearly morning, 
 so that he 'was probably still asleep ; he 
 had, happily, a constitution which always 
 recovered its tone by sleep. 
 
 The Professorin asked to be excused, as 
 she wished to send off the things before she 
 attended to her early visitors ; she now 
 asked Claus what he meant by saying that 
 an important thing was wanting. 
 
 "Yes," said the huntsman, " Herr Son- 
 nenkamp is just the man for it." 
 
 " For what?" 
 
 " I mean that it is all well and good to 
 wrap people up and protect them from the 
 cold ; but hilarity and joy are still lacking, 
 and I think something ought to be done 
 about warming up inside, and it wouldn't 
 go amiss to send every one of them a bottle 
 of wine. Every year the people see the 
 vineyards before their eyes, and work in 
 them, and most of them don't ever drink 
 so much as a single drop of the wine." 
 
 "Good!" said Sonnenkamp. "Go to 
 the butler, and tell him to put with every 
 bundle a good bottle of last year's wine." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was in a most lavish mood, 
 for he put, besides, in each bundle a gold- 
 piece ; but he almost spoiled the whole by 
 saying to Claus, — 
 
 "You see how much confidence I have 
 in you. I have no doubt that you will 
 deliver it all faithfully." 
 
 All the huntsman's jolly good humor 
 seemed damped, but he restrained his 
 anger, and only pressed his lips tightly 
 together. 
 
 Roland helped carry the bundles to a 
 cart which was waiting before the house. 
 Sonnenkamp wanted to prevent him, but 
 the Mother made him a sign to let him do 
 it. With the last package, Fräulein Milch 
 disappeared. 
 
 In the emptied room Sonnenkamp told 
 the Professorin of his plan of removing to 
 the capital, and begged her to accompany 
 the family. 
 
 Gratefully, but most positively, the Pro- 
 fessorin declined ; and Sonnenkamp had 
 some trouble in hiding his vexation, when 
 he found that no persuasions could change 
 her decision. He took leave politely, but 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 289 
 
 out of humor, and Roland promised to 
 leave Griffin with her as a guard. 
 
 The Professorin felt that the boy wanted 
 to be doing something for her while he was 
 away, and to sacrifice for her something 
 which he cared for. 
 
 " Life will go well with you. 11 she said, as 
 she pressed his hand. 
 
 Roland felt a thrill through his whole 
 being ; he had received pne of the holiest 
 of blessings, though it was given in such 
 simple words. 
 
 The Professorin had promised to come 
 that evening to the villa, where they were 
 all to watch out the old year. 
 
 When she came, she found great black 
 chests in the hall ; in Frau Ceres 1 parlor 
 all the chairs were covered with clothes, 
 and Frau Ceres was as happy as a child, 
 directing everything with an activity never 
 seen in her before. At last they all re- 
 paired to the dining-room and sat down to 
 tea. 
 
 All felt that a great break had come in 
 their life ; while the conversation went on 
 easily and continually no one noticed the 
 time, and all believed that it would be very 
 hard work to keep awake till midnight. 
 The Professorin felt the strain, the haunting 
 ghost, if one may so call it, of the impend- 
 ing separation ; they were, in fact, no longer 
 here, no longer together. She said more of 
 this than she really meant to, and told them 
 of her entrance into the great world. 
 
 Frau Ceres was very attentive, and kept 
 begging her to go on. Suddenly she rose 
 and asked her husband to leave the room 
 with her. Sonnenkamp soon reappeared, 
 and begged the Professorin to do his dear 
 little wife a favor. She declared herself 
 quite ready ; and it seemed she was to play 
 the Princess, Eric the Court-Marshal, Son- 
 nenkamp the Prince, and Aunt Claudine 
 the Mistress of Ceremonies. The Aunt 
 resisted the arrangement, and blushed deep- 
 ly ; but the Professorin persuaded her, and 
 managed to make her take the role of the 
 Princess. 
 
 After a little waiting, the folding-doors 
 were opened. Eric stood at the door with 
 a wand, and led Frau Ceres, who glittered 
 and beamed in diamonds and pearls, to the 
 throne of the Aunt. 
 
 The Aunt condescendingly dropped very 
 slightly the fan which she held, and Frau 
 Ceres made a truly courtly reverence. 
 
 " Come nearer," said the Aunt. "It is 
 very good in you to take up your abode in 
 our country. 1 ' 
 
 " It was my husband's wish, 11 answered 
 Frau Ceres. 
 
 " Your honored husband is very benevo- 
 lent. 11 
 
 " I thank you, 11 replied Frau Ceres. 
 
 " If I were in your place, 11 exclaimed Son- 
 nenkamp, " I would say, Your Highness, 
 it is our duty, and we are highly rewarded 
 for it by its meeting your gracious notice. 11 
 
 "Please write that out for me, I will 
 learn it, 11 said Frau Ceres, turning to her 
 husband. She seemed to have grown 
 younger, and her cheeks glowed. 
 
 The Professorin was extremely animated, 
 and after saying : "I am your Mistress of 
 Ceremonies, 11 she led Frau Ceres to a seat. 
 
 " No, not so, — you must look after your 
 train a little, and spread it out handsomely. 
 So, — thatfs right, and then open your fan, 
 you have the right to open it now, but not 
 before. It is best to have it hung to your 
 wrist by a small cord ; it falls so easily. 11 
 
 The jesting went on merrily ; when twelve 
 o'clock struck, Roland cried : — 
 
 " Father, now your health is being drunk 
 by hundreds of people." 
 
 Sonnenkamp kissed his son, Frau Ceres 
 kissed the Professorin, then bent her head 
 and waited calmly for a kiss on her brow 
 from her husband. Outside, the bells rang, 
 and guns were fired. 
 
 "Welcome to the New Year! to fresh 
 life ! 11 cried Eric, as his pupil gratefully 
 kissed the hand which grasped his own. 
 
 In the neighborhood of the villa, there 
 was much noise of guns and shouting ; and 
 Sonnenkamp was quite indignant that the 
 good German police should allow such 
 doings ; it was nothing but rude vulgarity. 
 
 Eric said, on the other hand : — 
 
 " We can find in this inharmonious noise, 
 if we consider it psychologically, an ex- 
 pression of joy. Without knowing it him- 
 self, the insignificant man who fires off 
 a pistol, takes pleasure in the sense of sur- 
 prise that he can produce an effect so far 
 off, and that so many people must notice 
 what he does. So this custom, barbarous 
 in itself, is to be explained ; it gives force 
 to the human voice, you see, to the vocifer- 
 ous shouting. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp smiled, and Eric was glad 
 that he had brought, not his pupil alone, 
 but the father also, to a gentler view of 
 humanity. 
 
 But Sonnenkamp thought : This walking 
 university, these ready catechetical answers 
 on every subject, begin to grow a little 
 tedious ; it is well that we are going into a 
 wider circle. 
 
 Then he smiled, and bade Eric and 
 Roland a cheerful good-night. 
 
 Warmly wrapped in furs and attended by 
 
290 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 two servants, the Professorin and the Aunt 
 returned to their own house ; and soon all 
 was still, and every one dreaming of the 
 New Year. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE ICE BREAKS UP. 
 
 In the morning, when Eric and Roland 
 were saying good-by at the green cottage, 
 a message came from Fräulein Milch to 
 offer herself and the Major that day, as visit- 
 ors to the Professorin. 
 
 The Professorin praised to aunt Claudine 
 the tact of the housekeeper, who evidently 
 felt that they would be lonely on that day. 
 
 It was snowing steadily, and from her 
 closed window the Mother made a sign of 
 farewell to her son and to Roland, who 
 drove by in the first carriage, and after- 
 wards to Herr Sonnenkamp and Fräulein 
 Perini, who bowed from their carnage : 
 Frau Ceres lay in the corner, closely 
 wrapped up, and did not move. 
 
 The Major and Fräulein Milch soon 
 arrived. The Major kept himself under 
 strict military discipline, and allowed no 
 slight indisposition to change his stiff bear- 
 ing ; he was rather hoarse, and could say 
 even less than usual, but he offered the con- 
 gratulations of the New Year to the ladies 
 with as much cordiality as formality. 
 
 " This year," he said, " will complete the 
 fifty years that we have lived together." 
 
 He pointed to Fräulein Milch, and 
 his hand said, Not a better creature walks 
 the earth. But his looks said still more, 
 which was not so easily understood. 
 
 They had a very cheerful dinner, and 
 Fräulein Milch told them how many plea- 
 sant things she had already heard about the 
 valuable presents, in the various houses. 
 
 The Major forced himself to master his 
 indisposition, to be fit ^ company for the 
 three ladies ; he praised the Professorin for 
 knowing how to make such excellent soup, 
 though she was such a learned lady. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he laughed, " Pve really 
 had to force Herr Sonnenkamp to have 
 soup at his table. You see, if I had to go 
 a day without soup, I should feel as if I 
 were wearing my boots without stockings ; 
 the lower story of the stomach is cold." 
 
 They laughed at this comparison, and the 
 Major thus encouraged, continued: — 
 
 "Yes, Frau Professorin, you know every- 
 thing ; can you tell me how it is that though 
 this day is just like yesterday, we feel that 
 there's something peculiar about it because 
 it's New Year's Day ? I feel as if I'd put 
 on clean clothes for the whole year." 
 
 Again there was a general laugh, and the 
 Major chuckled, well pleased ; he had done 
 his part, now he could leave the others to 
 themselves. 
 
 After dinner, the Professorin insisted 
 that the Major must take his nap ; she had 
 had the library warmed on purpose, and the 
 Major was not a little proud that he was to 
 sleep in the arm-chair there. 
 
 " Ah," he said, " 1 can sleep as well as 
 the best Professor ; but so many books, so 
 many books ! it's frightful to think that a 
 man can read them all ! I don't understand 
 how it's possible." 
 
 The Major slept the sleep of the right- 
 eous ; but he would have had no rest if he 
 could have guessed what was passing be- 
 tween the ladies. 
 
 Fräulein Milch sat at the window by the 
 Professorin, who listened in astonishment 
 as the simple housekeeper said how strange 
 it was that Eric should have consented to 
 read the harrowing drama of Othello ; the 
 Major had been driven almost crazy by it, 
 and, besides, there were so many points in 
 it which could not be touched upon in the 
 family. 
 
 "Do you know the play?" asked Frau 
 Dournay. 
 
 "Indeed I do," replied Fräulein Milch, 
 her whole face flushing to her very cap-bor- 
 der. Then, to the Professorin' s surprise, 
 she went on to remark upon the poet's 
 wonderful stroke of art in placing the 
 young married pair on the island of Cyprus, 
 where strong wine is produced and drunk, 
 not always in moderation ; for in that soli- 
 tude, and under that hot sun, wild, burn- 
 ing passions were fostered, too. The 
 greater the happiness of a fondly loving 
 pair on such an island, the more miserable 
 would they be if any discord rose between 
 them. 
 
 The Professorin listened as if a new per- 
 son were speaking, whom she had never 
 known before ; but she said nothing of her 
 thoughts, only asking : — 
 
 "Do you think then that the play was 
 unsuitable to have been read there because 
 Herr Sonnenkamp has been a slave-hold- 
 er ? " 
 
 " I would rather not say more about it," 
 said Fräulein Milch evasively. " I do not 
 like to talk about the man ; it rejoices me, — 
 no, that isn't the right word, — it makes me 
 easier that he scarcely notices me, and 
 seems to think me too insignificant to be 
 looked at. I am not angry with him for it, 
 but rather grateful, because it is not neces- 
 sary for me to look at him ; and friendliness 
 towards him would be hypocrisy." 
 
 " But you must not turn me off in that 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 291 
 
 way. Can't you tell me why you thought 
 it unsuitable lor being read ? " 
 " I cannot." 
 
 Aunt Claudine, thinking she saw that 
 Fräulein Milch had something to tell which 
 was not for her to hear, quietly left the 
 room. 
 
 "Now we are quite alone, 1 ' said the 
 Professorin, " you can tell me every thing. 
 Shall I assure you that I can keep a se- 
 cret ? " 
 
 "Oh, I am only sorry that I have gone 
 so far, 11 stammered Fräulein Milch, drawing 
 her cap-strings through her fingers. " It is 
 the first time for fifty years that I have paid 
 a visit, or eaten at a strangers table; I 
 ought not to have done it ; I have not yet 
 gained self-control enough. 11 
 
 Her face quivered, and her brown eyes 
 glowed. 
 
 " I thought that you looked on me as a 
 friend, 11 said the Professorin, holding out 
 her hand. 
 
 , " Yes, so I do, 11 cried Fräulein Milch, 
 seizing the hand with both her own, and 
 pressing it with fervor. " You cannot tell 
 how I thank God for having granted me 
 this before my death ; since I devoted myself 
 to him, I have renounced all the world ; you 
 are the first — oh, I think you must know 
 all, you need be told nothing. 11 
 
 " I do not know all. What do you know 
 of Herr Sonnenkamp ? 11 
 
 Fräulein Milch hung her head sadly, then 
 put both hands before her face, crying, — 
 
 " Why must I tell you ? 11 
 
 Then she rose, put her mouth to the Pro- 
 fessorin's ear, and whispered something. 
 Frau Dournay threw her head back, and 
 grasped the sewing-machine, which stpod 
 before her, with both hands. Not a word 
 was spoken. Outside, all was still, except 
 for the cawing of a flock of crows which 
 were hovering over the Rhine. 
 
 " I do not think you would tell me such 
 a thing on a mere rumor, 11 said the Profes- 
 sorin at last. " Go on, and tell me plainly 
 how you learned it. 11 
 
 Fräulein Milch looked round timidly, and 
 answered : — 
 
 " I have it from the most trustworthy of 
 men, whose nephew has sent a child here to 
 be educated ; he knows the name which 
 Herr Sonnenkamp formerly bore, and all 
 about his past life. But, dear, noble lady, 
 why should not a man be able to take up a 
 different life, a new existence, whatever he 
 may have done ? 11 
 
 "Of that another time, 11 interrupted 
 Frau Dournay ; " tell me the name of the 
 man who has told you this. 11 
 
 "So be it then. It was Herr Weid- 
 mann. 11 
 
 The Professorin covered her face with 
 her hands. " What are you saying of Herr 
 Weidmann ? 11 asked the Major, entering 
 suddenly. " I can tell you, Frau Profes- 
 sorin, that any one who doesn't know that 
 man, doesn 1 t know one of the best and 
 truest men in the world. He's one of God's 
 masterpieces, and God himself must have 
 satisfaction in him ; every day, when He 
 looks down from heaven, he must say : The 
 world isn't yet so bad, for down yonder I 
 have my Weidmann ; he is a man — a genu- 
 ine man. Everything is included in that, 
 there's nothing more to be said. 11 
 
 Both women felt a sense of relief in the 
 entrance of the Major, who now prepared 
 to go home with Fräulein Milch. After 
 they had gone a few steps, the Professorin 
 called Fräulein Milch back, and asked in a 
 whisper, — 
 
 " Does the Major know, too ? " 
 
 " Oh no, he could not bear it. Forgive 
 me for having laid such a burden on you. 
 Believe me that it is not made lighter to 
 me, but heavier." 
 
 The guests departed ; and soon after, the 
 postman brought a letter from t the Univer- 
 sity-town. Professor Einsiedel, who for 
 twenty years had brought his New Year's 
 greeting to Frau Dournay, did not choose 
 to fail in it to-day ; they, were cordial and 
 significant words which he wrote, but they 
 seemed to come from a different world. 
 Twice she read the postscript, for there was 
 a greeting for Eric, with the message, that 
 the Professor would soon send him a book 
 on slavery which was announced as just 
 published ; and he added the exhortation 
 that Eric should finish his work within the 
 new year. 
 
 The Professorin looked thoughtfully at 
 the words. What did it mean ? Eric had 
 never spoken to her of any such work. She 
 passed her hand through the air before her 
 brow, as if she would drive away every 
 strange thought. A recollection rose with- 
 in her. This very morning she had been 
 expressing her sorrow to Aunt Claudine 
 that she could no longer dispense any char- 
 ity of her own, though it was the duty of 
 every one to give from his own store. 
 What she did seemed nothing ; only the 
 gifts seemed of importance. Almost invol- 
 untarily, she opened the box in which lay 
 the money that Sonnenkamp had intrusted 
 to her. How could she say in future to 
 those who received it : You must not thank 
 me, but Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 I She collected herself, and went to the li- 
 
292 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 brary, where she stood gazing out of the 
 window. It seemed as if something were 
 actually gnawing at her heart. In spite of 
 inward reluctance, she had allowed herself 
 to be brought into these relations, and her 
 power of clear and intelligent perception 
 seemed clouded. 
 
 Down the river there was a heavy roar, 
 with a sharp cracking sound, as if a new 
 world were opening; the ice had broken up. 
 Great blocks were floating down the stream. 
 They were hurled against each other, turned 
 over, crushed into fragments, brought to- 
 gether again, and floated on. Every block, 
 
 large and small, was crowned with a wreath 
 of snow, formed by the icy splinters that 
 were ground to powder and thrown on top 
 by the breaking up ; the fragments floated 
 down the river so swiftly that one realized, 
 for the first time, how rapid and strong the 
 current always is. x 
 
 The sun set in a glowing sky across the 
 Rhine ; half aloud,, the Professorin said to 
 herself : — 
 
 " This first day of the year, which is now 
 declining, has brought me a terrible experi- 
 ence ; it must be borne, and turned to some 
 good end." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 293 
 
 BOOK IX. CHAPTER I. 
 ARRIVAL, AT THE VICTORIA. 
 
 A line of carriages was standing in front 
 of the Hotel Victoria in the capital ; multi- 
 tudes of sparrows were fluttering about 
 them while the drivers stood. together in 
 groups, or walked to and fro, bandying jests 
 with one another, and beating their arms 
 across their chest to keep off the cold. 
 
 The sparrows quarreled together, and 
 after picking up all the crumbs they could 
 find, took their flight. The drivers had 
 exhausted their jokes and lapsed into si- 
 lence. What more could be said and done 
 on a winters afternoon in the snowy, de- 
 serted streets of the capital ? Everything 
 is as still as the blessed prince whose stone 
 image stands on the great column, with a 
 cap of snow on his head and snow epaulettes 
 on his shoulders. The parade is over, the 
 officials are sitting in their offices, and the 
 shutters of the Casino are closed for the bet- 
 ter enjoyment of the cards by lamp-light. 
 There is a change of guards at Prince Leon- 
 hard's palace, over the way ; the soldiers 
 wear large cloaks, and carry pistols. The 
 man released from duty whispers something, 
 which seems to be of no great moment to the 
 one who succeeds him. An official messen- 
 ger carrying a bundle of papers comes 
 along, meets a court-lackey wrapped in a 
 long coat that almost touches the ground ; 
 exchanges a pinch of snuff with him, and 
 passes on. Such is the life of a small capi- 
 tal on a winter's afternoon. 
 
 But now wide awake ! there is something 
 going on. A great stir began among the 
 coachmen, and up came the courier Lootz, 
 with a wagon load of trunks. 
 
 Now there was abundant material for 
 conversation. It was fine to have this 
 "Gold-nugget, the King of California, " come 
 to the capital. 
 
 " Run up to your father, the bell-ringer, 
 and tell him to set all his bells going, 1 ' cried 
 one. 
 
 " Give me a drink that I may shout a 
 good huzza, 1 ' said another. " Now begins 
 a merry winter for us. Gold-nugget will 
 scatter more money than three princes, and 
 seventeen counts, with seven barons into the 
 bargain." 
 
 " Let me tell you something, 11 chimed in 
 a third. " Letfs send a deputation to him 
 when he arrives ; he will do it, he is just the 
 fellow for it. I've a plan. 11 
 
 " Out with your plan. 11 
 
 The man thus addressed, — a little hump- 
 back, with intelligent, cunning eyes, — kept 
 his comrades in suspense for a while, and 
 then said, — 
 
 " We will petition Herr Sonnenkamp to 
 give every coachman a daily pint of wine. 
 He will do it, you see if he doesn^. If I 
 had seventy millions, I would do it too. 11 
 
 A broad-shouldered, somewhat disreputa- 
 ble-looking coachman said, — 
 
 "I have been a hotel-keeper myself; I 
 know what that means. The landlord of 
 the Victoria has got ä winter guest who 
 will keep the house warm, and the wheels 
 well greased." 
 
 Within the hotel, meanwhile, were none 
 but smiling faces. Even the handsome 
 landlady was handsomer than ever to-day, 
 as she took a final survey of the sumptuous 
 suite of rooms on the first floor, and found 
 that all was in order, only a covering here 
 and there still remaining to be spread. 
 The feet of the butlers, waiters, and maids, 
 as they hurried to and fro, made no sound 
 on the thick, soft carpets. The gorgeous 
 silk furniture glistened and gleamed, as if 
 grateful at being freed from its mourning 
 wrappers, and allowed to show itself to the 
 light. 
 
 Lootz was full of business ; he seemed 
 bent upon trying every kind of sitting-place ; 
 now one chair and now another, here a sofa 
 and there a lounge, he ordered to be differ- 
 ently arranged. Even the beds he appeared 
 disposed to test, but contented himself with 
 pressing the springs up and down a little. 
 One blue silk boudoir, that opened on a 
 charming balcony, he re-arranged entirely 
 with great skill and excellent taste. 
 
 All was at last ready. 
 
 When evening came on, the whole long 
 suite of rooms was illuminated ; all the 
 burners in the chandeliers, on the tables, 
 and on the mantles being lighted. The 
 entrance hall was decked with flowers. 
 Now they might come. 
 
 The head-butler, with a cigar in his mouth, 
 stepped into the streets and surveyed the 
 row of windows with great satisfaction ; 
 but with still greater, did he look across the 
 streets at the residence of the Crown-prince, 
 where all was dark and deserted ; how 
 jealous they will be there ! 
 
 A carriage drove up full of the servants 
 of the establishment, men and women, then 
 another, in which were Eric and Roland, 
 and finally appeared a coach drawn by four 
 horses. Bertram drew up at the door, and 
 out stepped Herr Sonnenkamp followed by 
 Fraulein Perini, and lastly by Frau Ceres, 
 enveloped in the costliest furs. 
 
 The coachmen before the house forgot 
 their agreement, and raised no cheers for 
 Sonnenkamp. Amidst utter silence he and 
 his family entered the vestibule, where the 
 bearded porter in a laced coat and broad- 
 
294 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 brimmed hat presented his silver-headed 
 cane. He stood motionless as a statue ; only 
 his eyes sparkled. His face assumed a satis- 
 fied expression as they ascended the warmed, 
 lighted, and flower-hung stair-case. Frau 
 Ceres was not in good humor, having slept 
 almost the whole way ; she sat down before 
 the open grate, and consented after a while 
 to have her furs taken off. 
 
 Sonnenkamp inspected all the rooms, say- 
 ing, when he came to those intended for 
 Roland and Eric, — 
 
 " All the comforts of this world have 
 their price ; those who have nothing must 
 turn coachmen, and freeze down there, wait- 
 ing for a passenger. 11 
 
 He returned to his wife's boudoir, where 
 Frau Ceres was still sitting motionless on a 
 luxurious seat before the fire. 
 
 " What shall we do to-day? 11 she asked 
 languidly. 
 
 " There is still time to go to the thea- 
 tre." 
 
 " Dress myself over again ? I wonH. 1 ' 
 
 Here, happily, the Cabinetsrathin was 
 announced. 
 
 She was greeted with words of welcome, 
 and very welcome she was. She apologized 
 for not having been on the spot to receive 
 her dear friends and neighbors upon their 
 arrival, as she had intended, but a visit from 
 Countess Graben had detained her. They 
 thanked her, and were enchanted at her 
 obliging politeness. 
 
 Eric and Roland were summoned to re- 
 ceive the Cadet, who had come also. 
 
 " Where is your mother? 11 inquired the 
 Cabinetsrathin. " She is coming presently, 
 I hope? 11 
 
 Eric did not answer, and Sonnenkamp 
 quietly interposed, saying that the Frau 
 Professorin was unwilling to give up her 
 country-life. 
 
 "That will cause general regret," re- 
 turned the Cabinetsrathin. smiling as if she 
 were saying something very amusing. " All 
 the beau-monde are depending upon having 
 this amiable, witty, universally esteemed 
 lady another season among them." 
 
 " She must come, 11 said Frau Ceres. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was sorely vexed. Did the 
 whole glory of his house depend upon the 
 esteem in which this woman was held ? 
 
 His displeasure was increased by the 
 lady's adding in a confidential tone, — 
 
 "The accomplishment of our beautiful 
 and noble plan will be much hindered and 
 delayed by the absence of the Frau 
 Professorin, nee von Burgholz, 11 as she 
 always took pains to add. Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp would hardly be able to draw the 
 best society to his house, she thought, 
 
 without the lady's presence, adding, with 
 what she meant for an expression of great 
 modesty, that she should spare no exertions 
 on her own part, but that she could not 
 accomplish nearly as much as the Frau Pro- 
 fessorin neh von Burgholz. 
 
 The numerous lights in the great draw- 
 ing-room appeared to Sonnenkamp^ eyes 
 to burn less brightly ; he had sufficient self- 
 control, however, not to betray the extent 
 of his vexation. 
 
 The Cadet proposed that Roland should 
 take part in a quadrille, which was to be 
 performed on horseback by the first nobles 
 of the court, towards the end of the month ; 
 in the royal riding-ring he could find a 
 place as squire among the other citizen 
 cadets, and engage in some of the evolu- 
 tions. 
 
 Roland was delighted at the idea, but 
 Herr Sonnenkamp cut the matter short by 
 saying, — 
 
 " No ! you will take no part." 
 
 He did not give any reason ; there was 
 no need to say that he did not choose to 
 have his son make his first appearance 
 among the common people admitted on suf- 
 ferance. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin had plenty of court 
 news to tell, such as who had already given 
 entertainments, and whose balls were still 
 to come off, besides many a piquant bit of 
 gossip, only half told on account of the 
 presence of the children. The betrothal 
 of the eldest son of Herr von Endlich, 
 whose superb house was so famous, was 
 soon to be celebrated, though there was 
 reason to fear that tidings of death would 
 soon be received from Madeira, whither the 
 young pair had gone who were married' in 
 the summer. 
 
 The Cadet invited Roland to go with him 
 to the theatre that evening, to see a grand 
 ballet. 
 
 Eric looked in embarrassment at Sonnen- 
 kamp, who however said, — 
 
 " Certainly; go, Roland." 
 
 For the first time Eric saw his pupil led 
 away from him, and taken to a place of 
 entertainment, among a class of people, 
 whither he could not accompany him. His 
 heart trembled. 
 
 Roland had asked that Eric might go too, 
 but the Cadet explained that there were no 
 more places to be had ; it was with great 
 difficulty that he had been able to secure 
 one for his friend. So Roland departed, 
 saying to Eric as he went, — 
 
 " I shall come back to you as soon as it 
 is over." 
 
 Eric became more tranquil. He could 
 not prevent Roland^ falling into company, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 295 
 
 and receiving impressions, which threat- 
 ened the subversion of all his noble ten- 
 dencies. He could only trust that his will 
 and his conscience might be" strong enough 
 to withstand the danger. 
 
 Half with pride and half with regret, the 
 Cabinetsrathin told of her son's precocity 
 and cunning in the pursuit of adventures, 
 and lamented almost in the same breath 
 that Manna should be passing this brilliant 
 season in the solitude of the convent ; it 
 would have been so pleasant for her, together 
 with Frau Ceres, to introduce such a lovely 
 girl into society. 
 
 Sonnenkamp replied that next winter 
 would be time enough for that. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE FIRST NIGHT IN THE CAPITAL. 
 
 Eric soon withdrew ; he went to his 
 chamber, but found no rest. Here he was, 
 in the city where he had been born and 
 brought up, living in a strange hotel, and 
 in the service of a stranger. He quickly 
 fought down these reflections and the weak- 
 ness they engendered, and wrote a letter to 
 his mother announcing their arrival, and 
 begging her to let no persuasions induce 
 her to come to the capital. He took the 
 letter to the post himself, and spent some 
 time in wandering through the quiet, 
 deserted streets of the little capital. He 
 knew every house in them. Here and 
 there lived some companion of his youth, 
 some family friends ; what relations he 
 should hold to them now he could not tell. 
 
 He passed the great building where the 
 antique relics were kept, and for a moment 
 allowed himself to fancy what his position 
 would have been, if he had received the 
 post of director here. 
 
 He walked restlessly to and fro, and 
 finally entered a beer-house, took his place 
 in a corner, and listened to the talk of the 
 men, who, with long pipes in their mouths, 
 were laughing at each other's poor jokes, 
 and discussing matters of afl kinds. 
 
 His attention was roused by the mention 
 of Sonnenkamp's name ; a stout, red-faced 
 man was saying, — 
 
 " I must begin now to take my very best 
 meat 10 the Victoria, for Herr Sonnenkamp 
 knows what is good. 11 
 
 A printer whom Eric, recognized said, 
 "Our editor, Professor Crutius, declares 
 that he knows Herr Sonnenkamp, but he 
 isn't willing to tell us anything about him. 11 
 
 Erie's interest was still further excited. 
 The men went on to tell of the immense 
 jum daily paid to the landlord of the Vic- 
 toria, then of Sonnenkamp's reported pur- 
 
 chase of the Rabenecke palace, and of his 
 admission to the ranks of the nobility as 
 being a thing as good as settled. Here 
 some remarks were made, in too low a tone 
 for Eric to catch, which raised a general 
 laugh. 
 
 " I call you to witness, 11 said a stout man 
 whom Eric recognized as a flour-dealer and 
 baker, " that I say now this Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp is sent on a secret mission . The young 
 nobles in the South want an emperor, and 
 this Herr Sonnenkamp's designs to aim 
 higher, perhaps, than any of us imagine." 
 
 " Then you can go with him and be court- 
 baker, 11 said one, whose rejoinder was 
 received with a burst of laughter. 
 
 "What's that to us?" said another; 
 " the man brings plenty of money into the 
 country. If a hundred of them came, I 
 don't care what they are after, as long as 
 ' they bring us their money." 
 
 The speaker was a short, round-bodied 
 ' little man with a great meerschaum pipe. 
 ) He emptied his covered glass as he spoke, 
 and called out to the bar-maid, — 
 
 " Bring me a fresh one ; I have deserved 
 it, for I am the cleverest of the lot." 
 
 Eric slipped out of the room, glad not 
 j to have been recognized. 
 
 At the door he received a friendly greet- 
 ing from a young man whom he had -no 
 recollection of having seen before, but who 
 i recognized him as one of the singers at the 
 ' musical festival. He was a teacher in the 
 ! scientific school in the capital, and an- 
 ! nounced to Eric that he had been proposed 
 to the school-teachers' union as an honorary 
 J member. 
 
 Eric thanked him and passed on ; meeting 
 in the street a great stream of people and 
 ! carriages coming from the theatre ; he hur- 
 j ried to the hotel, that Roland might find 
 j him there on his return, and happily arrived • 
 before his pupil. He waited in his room, 
 : but no Roland came ; he went to the draw- 
 j ing-room, but he was not there ; on the 
 ; contrary, he was himself asked if Roland 
 ! had not yet returned. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin observed, with a smile, 
 that they need feel no uneasiness, for Roland 
 j was with Cuno, and of course enjoying 
 ; himself. She expressed her regrets that 
 she too must now take leave of the company, 
 j and, drawing Sonnenkamp into the embra- 
 sure of a window, presented him with an 
 ! Almanach de Gotha for the new year, a book 
 I which, as she gracefully remarked, should 
 henceforth never appear without the name 
 ! of Sonnenkamp being in it ; and she bound 
 ' herself from this day forth to pay him taxes in 
 j the shape of this canonical book, to be de- 
 livered to him yearly as long as she lived. 
 
296 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was duly grateful, and es- 
 corted the lady to her carriage. 
 
 On returning to the drawing-room, he 
 said to Eric : — 
 
 " 1 had supposed you would have made 
 Roland more worthy of confidence ; in spite 
 of his promise, he has not come home." 
 
 Eric was tempted to answer that it was 
 the father, not he, who on this very first 
 evening, when the boy- was hardly out of 
 the carriage, had given him permission to 
 go his own way. He restrained himself, 
 however; any discussion would be useless. 
 
 " I cannot go to bed till he comes, 1 ' com- 
 plained Frau Ceres. 
 
 " Have you any idea where we can look 
 for him ? " asked Sonnenkamp of Eric. 
 
 " It is not necessary, for here he is," re- 
 turned Eric. 
 
 Roland entered. 
 
 His mother began to complain and his 
 father to scold, because he had not kept 
 his word. 
 
 " I deserve neither complaints nor re- 
 proaches," said Roland. " I had great dif- 
 ficulty in getting away from the company 
 at the door of the restaurant whither I ac- 
 companied them, but would not go in." 
 
 All was made smooth again, and they 
 went to bed. 
 
 Why do you not ask me how I enjoyed 
 the theatre ?" asked Roland when he • had 
 entered his room. 
 
 " I preferred waiting for you to tell me." 
 
 "It was very fine; there were beautiful 
 girls, and Cuno knew them all by name, 
 and had some story to tell of every one ; stu- 
 pid stories they mostly were. For hours 
 we had nothing but leaping and bending 
 this way and that, without a word being 
 spoken. Suddenly, I began to wonder what 
 Benjamin Franklin would say if he could 
 •see it, and that spoiled all my pleasure. 
 Cuno called me a snob, and I let it pass 
 quietly, but he added something else which 
 came near causing a duel." 
 
 " May I know what it was he added ? " 
 
 " No ; it was about you, but — of course 
 you would not care for it. You are not 
 anxious that every one should understand 
 you, and whatever the world may say " 
 
 "Say no more, dear Roland, I beg; I 
 don't care to know what people say about 
 me ; it only burdens the mind without help- 
 ing us to be better. But you have borne 
 yourself well, and may sleep with an easy 
 conscience. This has been your first expe- 
 rience under fire, and will not be your last. 
 Onlv keep true to yourself and to me. 
 Good-night." 
 
 Eric lay down with happy thoughts, and 
 with happy thoughts Roland fell asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE GREAT WORLD IN THE LITTLE CAPITAL. 
 
 While Sonnenkamp, the next morning, 
 was looking through the court calendar and 
 making a list of the visits that were first to 
 be paid, Eric, also, was arranging his pro- 
 gramme. He determined to free his mind 
 from every personal disquietude, as the 
 only means of being able to devote himself 
 to the new difficulties of his task. 
 
 In a large close carriage, made half of 
 glass, with two servants in fur coats sitting 
 on the box, "änd the footman behind, Son- 
 nenkamp and Frau Ceres drove about the 
 city. The question whether Roland's cards 
 should be left too had been carefully con- 
 sidered, and it was finally decided" in the 
 affirmative. 
 
 Eric used the day's leave of absence he 
 had obtained in visiting some of his old com- 
 rades, and spending some time with them at 
 the military club. He was more cordially 
 greeted than he expected, and the men he 
 met were better and sounder than he re- 
 membered them. Of course the talk was 
 of the newly-established gaming-table, of 
 horses and ballet-dancers, but there was a 
 prevailing seriousness among many of his 
 comrades. The great excitements of the 
 day, which were affecting all minds, were 
 not without their results even in this mili- 
 tary club. One young man, who satin the 
 window with Eric, went so far as to envy 
 him for having struck out for himself an in- 
 dependent career. 
 
 Eric's mind grew quite light and tranquil 
 after visiting a few more of his friends, and 
 he returned to find the Sonnenkamp family 
 in good humor also. 
 
 On this first day, the Cabinetsrath, with 
 his wife and two daughters, was invited to 
 dinner. The dresses had come from Paris, 
 and Avere already the town-talk of the lit- 
 tle capital, the custom-house officials having 
 told their wives, and they their relations, that 
 dresses had been received from Paris finer 
 than any in the wardrobe of the Queen her- 
 self. They were duly admired by the la- 
 dies, and everything was in the best possi- 
 ble train. Sonnenkarap had his party at 
 whist in the fashionable club-house, to which 
 the Cabinetsrath introduced him ; and as 
 they rose from table, Bella and her hus- 
 band were announced as the first visitors. 
 
 Bella's gait, manner, and dress always 
 suggested not only invisible servants in 
 livery to appear, but a carriage and horses 
 besides ; she always looked as if she had 
 just left her carriage, or was about to 
 enter it ; it was so in the drawing-room, 
 and so in the street. She was extremely 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOFSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 297 
 
 animated, and only to Eric regretted that 
 his mother still continued in the country. 
 She told Sonneukamp that Otto would ar- 
 rive in a few days, with the Russian prince, 
 for the two men were to take part in a 
 French comedy that was to be performed at 
 court, in which she also was to play. She 
 made Sonncnkamp give her a considerable 
 sum of money for the purchase of articles 
 to be sold for the benefit of the poor, at a 
 fair held at the beginning of the next 
 month, by the first ladies of the capital. 
 Sonnenkamp promised further to place at 
 her disposal some beautiful plants from his 
 greenhouses. 
 
 Clodwig was tired, and stipulated before- 
 hand that little should be expected from 
 him in the way of society. The represen- 
 tatives were assembled in both houses. 
 Prince Leonhard, the brother of the reign- 
 ing Sovereign, a man who had seen the 
 world for himself, and had even travelled in 
 America, had been chosen President of the 
 Chamber of Lords, Clodwig being Vice- 
 President, but having to perform most of 
 the duties of actual President. 
 
 While they were still together, they had 
 the pleasure of receiving an invitation from 
 Herr von Endlich to a great ball. Bella 
 could not help repeating what was said by 
 the scandal-mongers, that Herr von End- 
 lich gave his great entertainment thus early, 
 lest the daily expected news of his son-in- 
 law's death should prevent his giving it alto- 
 gether. This was just the height of the 
 season ; they had come to town quite early 
 enough. It was said that the Court would be 
 present at Herr von Endlich' s ball ; at least 
 the brother of the reigning Prince might con- 
 fidently be expected, for he maintained rela- 
 tions with society quite independent of the 
 palace. Bella was also called upon to ad- 
 mire the Parisian toilettes in the adjoining 
 room, and advised Frau Ceres to reserve 
 the handsomest for the entertainment Herr 
 Sonnenkamp himself would give. 
 
 The evening at Herr von Endlich's was 
 very successful. The nobility, notwith- 
 standing the wound inflicted upon their 
 pride by the Sovereign's inconsiderate rais- 
 ing of the rich wine-merchant to their 
 ranks, were largely represented. It was a 
 singular step for him to have taken, very 
 unlike the almost priestly solemnity with 
 which he usually regarded all affairs of 
 court etiquette. He perceived his mistake, 
 and liked to be made to forget it. A sure 
 way of winning his favor was to show cor- 
 diality to Herr von Endlich. So it hap- 
 
 Eened that the company assembled at the 
 ouse of this newly made noble, was the 
 most brilliant of the season. 
 
 Herr von Endlich was shrewd enough to 
 invite some 'distinguished members of the 
 House of Deputies, and even two of the ex- 
 treme opposition, not, however, without first 
 having made sure that the Court would take 
 no offence at such a step. The Court itself 
 was not present, except in the person of 
 Prince Leonhard. He had made no secret 
 of his disapproval of this conferring of new 
 titles, but as a subject of his brother, he 
 appeared at the ball, and conversed freely 
 with the members of the opposition, espe- 
 cially with Herr Weidmann, the President of 
 the House of Deputies. 
 
 Although the Prince represented his broth- 
 er, and always spoke of him with great def- 
 erence, he was not averse to hearing such 
 remarks as, " Ah, if you were the ruler, there 
 would be a different order of things ; then 
 we should have a model country.' 1 In court 
 circles a secret compassion was felt for 
 Prince Leonhard, because custom made it 
 desirable, in fact even necessary, for him to 
 affect liberal views, to popularize himself, 
 as the aristocracy called it. He encouraged 
 arts and sciences, and even political move- 
 ments ; the journal which was understood 
 to be secretly supported by him slightly fa- 
 vored the opposition. 
 
 Prince Leonhard made the circuit of the 
 rooms arm in arm with Clodwig, which was 
 no slight mark of distinction. The Count 
 must have mentioned Eric to the Prince, for 
 he called him from his place behind the first 
 row of those who were waiting to be saluted, 
 and said aloud : — 
 
 "I am glad to see you again, my dear 
 Dournay ; you have become a great scholar, 
 I hear. Well, well, you always had con- 
 siderable talent that way ; you showed it 
 even as a boy. How is your honored 
 mother? " 
 
 Eric expressed his thanks, with a tone of 
 happy relief that the first meeting with 
 Prince Leonhard had passed off so pleas- 
 antly. No trifling compliment was paid 
 him by the Prince, who added : — 
 
 "I should be glad if you would bring 
 Herr Sonnenkamp to me ; where is he ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp, unhappily, was not to be 
 found. By the time he was summoned from 
 the smoking-room it was too late ; the Prince 
 was already opening the ball with Bella. 
 
 Herr von Endlich was beaming with hap- 
 piness, but • Sonnenkamp' s face wore a sin- 
 gular expression when he learned that the 
 Prince had desired Captain Dournay to pre- 
 sent him. A still more striking contrast 
 existed between the dispositions of the two 
 men. The Wine-count possessed a confident, 
 self-satisfied manner, with sufficient tact, 
 however, to prevent him from giving offence. 
 
298 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 His every word and motion plainly implied 
 his superior knowledge on all points. He 
 could enter into conversation with men of 
 the most dissimilar pursuits, and make a 
 good appearance in the eyes of all. The 
 fact of his being financier, political econo- 
 mist, agriculturist, merchant and ship-owner, 
 and thoroughly acquainted with everything 
 connected with those pursuits, he allowed 
 to be taken for granted ; but besides these, 
 he was able to converse with equal intelli- 
 gence upon the exact sciences and all the 
 statesmen of Europe. He was a careful 
 observer, and knew how to turn his obser- 
 vation to good account. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, who was often one in a 
 group of persons to whom Herr von Endlich 
 would be talking, was made to feel, perhaps 
 for the first time in his life, quite like a 
 school-boy, in fact, extremely insignificant. 
 He was standing with some others listening 
 to Herr von Endlich's account of the casting 
 of steel, when the Prince approached, and 
 observing that the conversation ceased 
 abruptly upon his arrival, said : — 
 
 "Pray, let me not interrupt you," and 
 listened with apparent gratification while 
 Herr von Endlich explained the whole pro- 
 cess, as if he had spent his whole life as a 
 worker in a machine shop. 
 
 Upon Sonnenkamp being presented, the 
 Prince inquired if he had practised grape 
 culture in America. 
 
 Sonnenkamp replied in the negative. 
 
 With a sudden change of subject, the 
 Prince then asked again whether he knew 
 Theodore Parker, whose preaching he had 
 heard with pleasure. 
 
 Here again Sonnenkamp was unfortu- 
 nately obliged to say no, feeling himself 
 wretchedly poor and ignorant. 
 
 The Prince perceived the stranger's em- 
 barrassment, and desiring to introduce a 
 subject on which he could not fail to be at 
 home, asked whether he believed in the 
 possibility of a peaceable settlement of the 
 slavery question. 
 
 The bystanders listened with interest, 
 while Sonnenkamp proceeded to state that 
 the horrors generally associated with the 
 idea of slavery had no actual existence, and 
 that the abolitionists might be very well in- 
 tentioned, but certainly they did not set to 
 work in the right way. 
 
 You must tell me more about this mat- 
 ter of slavery sometime ; you must come to 
 see me." 
 
 " Your Highness has but to command, 1 ' 
 replied Sonnenkamp, most happy that the 
 conversation should end here. 
 
 Eric stood through the greater part of the 
 
 evening near Weidmann, but desirous as he 
 was of giving his undivided attention to the 
 excellent man, he found it impossible to keep 
 his eyes from wandering towards Bella. 
 Bella was in the highest spirits. There 
 was something Juno-like about her appear- 
 ance. There was a dignified ease and a 
 magnificent fulness of outline, with a look 
 of pride and self-possession; she had a sig- 
 nificant word for some, and a lighter for 
 others ; age she cheered, youth she made 
 more gay, and all with an inimitable grace 
 and nobleness of manner. 
 
 A constrained expression sometimes hov- 
 ered about her lips, but as she passed from 
 one to another she had a cheerful smile for 
 all, and there was a magic charm in her 
 friendliness. Even in her outward appear- 
 ance she remained a mystery, for no one 
 could tell the exact color of her eyes, though 
 all were fascinated by their glance. 
 
 You might hate Bella, but you could not 
 forget her. 
 
 Such must have been Dr. Richard's expe- 
 rience. The Doctor had been unjust to her, 
 Eric thought, for Bella's leading principle 
 was ambition, and ambition directed to 
 great ends would appear like greatness. 
 The feeling that he also had done her injus- 
 tice, made his manner towards her more 
 friendly and respectful. Bella seemed to 
 divine what was passing in him, and nodded 
 to him from time to time graciously and 
 significantly. 
 
 Eric's manner set her mind completely at 
 rest ; for in fact she had sometimes secretly 
 thought : What if this tutor should boast — 
 pah ! no one would believe him. Besides, 
 he is by nature too noble to boast. 
 
 And what had happened between them, 
 after all ? 
 
 She had already found a subject of pride 
 in her first contrition ; having begun by 
 persuading herself that the whole thing had 
 been a passing exuberance of spirits, a 
 tempting pastime, nothing but sport, in fact. 
 
 And who could contradict her ? 
 
 She appeared to herself in the light of a 
 heroine who had gloriously overcome temp- 
 tation. 
 
 Her rehabilitation Avas so complete as to 
 become the main fact in the case ; indeed, 
 the whole thing seemed to her like a ro- 
 mance she had read in some book ; it had 
 certainly made a great impression upon her, 
 it had ended differently from what she had 
 expected ; but now it was finished, done 
 with, laid aside, returned to the desk of the 
 library. Yes, Bella could laugh at the idea 
 of her still being so impressionable ; she 
 was almost proud of being still so naive in 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 299 
 
 her feelings, still capable of being carried 
 away. Now it was all over, and she was 
 ready for something else. 
 
 She exchanged a few words with Eric and 
 Weidmann, rejoicing that the two had found 
 one another, and hoping that Eric would 
 often come to see Clodwig and herself, that 
 so they might enjoy some more intellectual 
 talk together, and be brought to a knowl- 
 edge of their true selves in the midst of 
 this whirl of society. She also asked Eric 
 to take her some day into the Cabinet of 
 Antiques, and give her some instruction 
 about them. With a tone of sisterly advice 
 she reminded him that etiquette required the 
 making of certain visits on his part, in order 
 not to be left out of society. 
 
 She was rejoiced to hear that he had al- 
 ready done part of his duty in this respect ; 
 and in reply to his remark that he had even 
 inquired for the Sovereign's negro, but found 
 he was spending the winter in Naples with 
 the invalid princess of the royal family, she 
 asked : — 
 
 "Ah? Herr Sonnenkamp sent you then 
 to the nigger on some special commission?' 1 
 
 Eric replied that he did not understand 
 the question, upon which Bella hastily 
 changed the subject, saying that it was only 
 an idle jest ; and soon afterwards she was 
 laughing and talking with Sonnenkamp, and 
 calling his attention to a man in the com- 
 pany, the brother of Herr von Endlich, who 
 kept the most fashionable tailors shop in 
 the capital. 
 
 Herr von Endlich could not help inviting 
 his brother, who was a person of considera- 
 tion in 'the city; and it was thought an ex- 
 cellent joke, that the man who sold the clothes 
 yesterday could see now how well they fit- 
 ted his customers. 
 
 Sonnenkamp congratulated himself that 
 he would at least have no such intolerable 
 family connections to dread when he should 
 enter the ranks of the nobility. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE BLUE RIBBON. 
 
 Every evening was spent now at the 
 theatre, or at some great entertainment. 
 The morning did not begin till noon. In 
 accordance with Bella's advice, Eric had 
 made the requisite visits, and was generally 
 included in the invitations. 
 
 He beheld this society life with fresh eyes, 
 like one coming from another world. What 
 lay behind these smiling, gaily-dressed ex- 
 teriors, and the friendly greetings they ex- 
 changed with one another ? He shuddered 
 as he looked at the white-cravatted crowd. 
 In the smoking-room each man vied with 
 
 another in telling lewd tales, and then re- 
 turned to the married ladies and young girls 
 in the dancing-hall, and put on his most 
 courtly manners. 
 
 Eric for the most part kept modestly in 
 the background, but Bella was exceedingly 
 friendly and confiding in her manner to- 
 wards him. She floated gaily down the 
 stream of intoxicating pleasures, pleased 
 to be one of the first, if not the supreme. 
 
 The Russian prince also was very gra- 
 cious to- Eric, and talked to him a great 
 deal of Knopf and of a wonderful American 
 child at Mattenheim. 
 
 Pranken saluted him in silence, hardly 
 ever exchanging a word with him. 
 
 By the first dignitaries of the State and 
 the Court, Eric was kindly received, and 
 heard from various quarters of the praise 
 bestowed upon him by the Countess von 
 Wolfsgarten and her husband. 
 
 Eric's acquaintance with Weidmann had 
 reached that point where both regretted that 
 they could see so little of each other, and 
 yet with the best intentions could come no 
 nearer together. Only once did they suc- 
 ceed in getting a deeper insight into one 
 another, and here too, strangely enough, it 
 was when the conversation was personal. 
 They were speaking of Clodwig, for whom 
 both expressed equal respect, but Weid- 
 mann could not help saying : — 
 
 " I admire this power, but I could never 
 exercise it. Our friend has the faculty of 
 entering heartily into the sphere in which 
 he lives ; I mean by that, he can put on and 
 off his moods of mind as he does his dress- 
 coat. His own tastes lead him to live among 
 entirely different interests, interests directly 
 antagonistic to all this whirl and confusion ; 
 but the moment he enters this sphere no trace 
 of any antagonism appears in him ; he seems 
 perfectly in harmony with the life about 
 him." 
 
 Eric took his meaning, and said he could 
 now understood a reproach that he had been 
 tormenting himself with. Weidmann's eye 
 rested thoughtfully upon him as he spoke. 
 
 " People say, at one time, that we should 
 try to sift every experience, should take 
 fire at this thing or that ; and again, they 
 require us to pass over things indifferently, 
 and let them go without a protest. I can- 
 not do that, and therefore am not suited for 
 society." 
 
 Weidmann appeared to take* a different 
 view of the matter that disturbed Eric, for 
 he replied that he ought to be perfectly sat- 
 isfied with having succeeded in fostering 
 noble thoughts in a boy of Roland's charac- 
 ter and position. 
 
 Often, whole evenings passed without 
 
300 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Eric's seeing Roland, so constantly was he 
 surrounded by the young dancers of both 
 sexes, who praised and petted him like 
 some favorite plaything. Every night he 
 came home with his breast covered with 
 favors in the German, and the day found 
 him weary and absent. Eric noticed that 
 perfumed notes were sometimes handed him 
 by the porter. Any regular course of study 
 was out of the question. Roland went 
 about through the day, humming the music 
 of the night before, which was still running 
 through his head. ■ He preserved with great 
 secrecy in his writing-desk the cards en- 
 graved with the order of the dances, and 
 many other souvenirs besides ; and his face 
 began to wear an expression of reserve. 
 
 Pranken was delighted to see his family, 
 as he called the Sonnenkamps, thus admit- 
 ted into society. It was now arranged that 
 Roland should take part with the others in 
 the French comedy. The young Countess 
 Ottersweier, who was to take the part of a 
 page at the court of Louis Fourteenth, was 
 ill with the measles, and her part was as- 
 signed to Roland. A beautiful dress was 
 ordered for him, and all his thoughts were 
 now turned to the play and the rehearsals 
 that were to precede it. 
 
 When the first dress-rehearsal took place, 
 and Roland showed himself to his parents in 
 his becoming costume of close-fitting white 
 silk tights, they were full of admiration ; 
 his mother in especial could not restrain her 
 expressions of rapture. Roland glanced at 
 Eric, who for some time had been looking 
 gloomily on the ground. He wanted to ask 
 him why he was so pedantic, for that was 
 what his fellow-actors called him ; but he 
 checked himself, and only said : — 
 
 " I promise you I will learn again, by and 
 by, all the lessons you give me, only let us 
 be merry now. 1 ' 
 
 Eric smiled; he felt that his pupil was 
 having destroyed in him what could never 
 be repaired ; but what could he do ? The 
 question indeed passed through his mind 
 whether he should not leave, now that all 
 he had so carefully planted and nurtured 
 was taken and trampled under foot ; and 
 only the thought that nothing would then 
 stand between Roland and destruction kept 
 him at his difficult post. Still he considered 
 it his duty to communicate his anxiety to 
 Sonnenkamp, who comforted him by saying 
 that. American youths were ripe in years, 
 and masters of their own lives, when Ger- 
 mans would be still sitting on a bench at 
 school, and grieving under a master's criti- 
 cism. 
 
 " I fear," said Eric, 44 that Roland is los- 
 ing the best possession that man can win." 
 
 44 What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 44 He should learn above all things to 
 find his best pleasures in himself." 
 
 44 So you would like to make a scholar of 
 him, a man who can boil his own coffee ? " 
 
 44 You understand me very well, and I 
 understand your joke. You know that 
 what I mean to say is this, that the man 
 who can find no pleasure within himself will 
 find none in the world. On that point we 
 in a manner agree with the church people, 
 only we understand it somewhat differently. 
 Whoever will be happy must enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven that is open in every 
 human soul ; who does not that, is always 
 dependent on voluntary or purchased ser- 
 vice and respect." 
 
 Sonnenkamp listened to Eric's quiet en- 
 thusiasm with a nod of assent. He agreed 
 with his ideas, but thought them strangely 
 mixed with an ecclesiastical asceticism 
 which he merely interpreted into the lan- 
 guage of the world. 
 
 While Roland was at the rehearsals of 
 the French play, Eric would often spend his 
 time at the teachers' club, and was pained 
 to find here also an aristocracy. The teach- 
 ers of the higher schools were separated 
 from those of the primary. Eric was re- 
 ceived by many as an old acquaintance, 
 and found himself followed by the fame he 
 had won at the musical festival, for the 
 teachers are the chief supporters of vocal 
 music. They had a private singing club 
 here, and Eric sang with his comrades more 
 beautifully than ever. 
 
 He often stole away from this noisy com- 
 pany and joined the meetings of the hum- 
 bler school-teachers, where he seemed to 
 be transplanted to another planet. 
 
 Here sat the serious, earnest men, most 
 of them worn with work, discussing ques- 
 tions pertaining to their calling, as how 
 best to influence and guide a child's soul ; 
 and out in the world, a soul trained to the 
 best of human ability was squandering the 
 teacher's whole long and painful work in a 
 single evening. 
 
 If we knew what was to be the result of 
 our labors, we could not live ; the best part 
 of our own ideality is our ignorance of the 
 future, and our belief in a full completion of 
 our plans. 
 
 Eric could not resist telling Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp of his evenings in the school-masters 1 
 club, and Sonnenkamp was much interested 
 in his account. He thought it very fine to 
 have other men cultivate the ideal. 
 
 44 They are happier than we," he said, as 
 he drank his heavy Burgundy. 
 
 On the evening preceding the perform- 
 ance of the French play, Roland, at his fa- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 301 
 
 theirs bidding, invited all bis fellow-actors 
 to a party at the hotel. The gentlemen 
 came, but none of the ladies except Bella. 
 She took Sonnenkamp aside, and told him 
 confidentially that he would never succeed 
 in drawing ladies to his parties, till he had 
 in his house the Frau Professorin nee 
 von Burgholz. She only half acknowl- 
 edged to herself that she should feel a little 
 ashamed to meet, on her return to the coun- 
 try, a person with whom she had so often 
 discussed the emptiness and worthlessness 
 of the amusements of society, and was 
 therefore anxious to have all brought into 
 the vortex, that none need have to fear the 
 reproachful glances of another ; but besides 
 this, it was perfectly true that Sonnenkamp 
 without the von Burgholz would never ac- 
 complish what with her aid would be an 
 easy matter. 
 
 Bella was malicious enough to tell Son- 
 nenkamp that the Cabinetsrathin fleeced 
 him, while in society she disowned him, and 
 described their connection as one purely of 
 necessity and neighborhood. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was doubly incensed, but 
 had to look unconcerned. 
 
 The play came off. Roland's beauty and 
 ready grace were the theme of general ad- 
 miration. Even Bella, whose versatility 
 was admirably displayed by the numerous 
 changes of costume and character that her 
 part had demanded, was quite thrown into 
 the shade by the enthusiasm he excited. 
 
 The Queen summoned Roland to her 
 side and conversed for some time with 
 him ; both were observed to smile as they 
 talked together. The King came himself to 
 Sonnenkamp and his wife, and congratulated 
 them upon their brilliant son, at the same 
 time asking when he was to enter the school 
 of cadets. 
 
 " When a name shall have been gra- 
 ciously bestowed upon him," replied Son- 
 nenkamp calmly. 
 
 The King frowned, bowed, and passed 
 on. 
 
 Sonnenkamp drew a long breath. He 
 had evidently made a mistake to introduce 
 the matter at such a time and in such a 
 way ; but it could not be helped now, and 
 forward was the word. He cast angry 
 glances around, as if he would like to have 
 doubled the whole glittering assembly up 
 in his fists, and kneaded it into what shape 
 he pleased. 
 
 His tempe-i» was not improved by Pran- 
 ken corning up, and asking what he could 
 have said to the King that had so ruffled 
 him. Sonnenkamp did not consider it ne- 
 cessary to acknowledge his mistake. 
 
 Eric looked with melancholy upon the 
 
 j scene around him ; near the pillar against 
 which he was leaning, a beautiful palm lan- 
 guidly drooped its fan-shaped leaves. It 
 perishes in the sultry air under this bright 
 flood of gas-light, he thought, as he gazed 
 at the plant ; if it be restored to a favor- 
 able atmosphere, it still pines and perhaps 
 perishes utterly. Will it be so with Roland 
 too ? How expect him to strive after the 
 ideal, after a higher activity, when all this 
 splendor and homage have been offered 
 him ? 
 
 Eric found himself, he could hardly tell 
 why, imagining Professor Einsiedel here ; 
 and the thought called a smile to his face, 
 for just such a Professor Einsiedel was he. 
 What then are we who live only in the re- 
 gion of thought ? Spectators ; nothing but 
 spectators, while there is the world with 
 its driving and snatching after enjoyment, 
 every one plundering and appropriating 
 whatever he can seize. Why will you 
 stand aside ? Why not hurry and scuffle 
 with the rest ? His breath came quick and 
 short, his cheeks glowed. He was in this 
 mood, when Roland came to him and 
 said : — 
 
 " If you are not satisfied with me, I care 
 nothing for the rest." 
 
 Eric gave him his hand, and Roland con- 
 tinued : — 
 
 ' ' The Queen wants me to be photographed 
 in this dress, and so do' all the ladies. The 
 other actors will do the same. Is it not 
 fine ? " 
 
 " Certainly, it will be a pleasant memen- 
 to for you by and by." 
 
 "Ah, by and by! by and by! it is 
 pleasant now, I don't want to know any- 
 thing of by and by. Oh, if we only did not 
 have to sleep, and undress, and to-morrow 
 be different again ! If we could only live 
 on like this for a hundred years without 
 stopping ! " 
 
 Eric perceived how completely Roland's 
 head was turned by all the adulation he had 
 received ; it was no time now to try to turn 
 the current. 
 
 But he himself was put in a state of un- 
 wonted excitement before the evening was 
 over. 
 
 He had noticed Bella talking very ear- 
 nestly with the Minister of War, formerly 
 colonel of his regiment, who presently ap- 
 proached him, and, after saluting, and talk- 
 ing of indifferent matters, finally asked if 
 he would not like a professorship in the 
 school of cadets when his pupil entered. 
 
 Eric expressed his cordial thanks for the 
 great kindness, but could give no decided 
 answer. He was startled at the next ques- 
 tion, whether he had made any definite plan 
 
302 
 
 THE COUXTRY-HÖUSE OS THE RHINE. 
 
 for himself, after the completion of the 
 young American's education ; he had made 
 none. Still more was he startled, when his 
 questioner further asked if he should not 
 then return to his literary and scientific 
 pursuits, as he had heard the highest hopes 
 expressed of him by those who had known 
 him in the university. 
 
 Eric was perplexed ; all such pursuits he 
 had sacrificed. What was to become of 
 him ? To make matters worse, he had 
 drawn his mother also into these relations. 
 
 After the Minister had gone, he caught 
 Bella's fiery glance fixed upon him, and he 
 seized the first opportunity that offered, to 
 thank her for having so kindly recommended 
 him to the Minister of War. 
 
 "All jealousy — all jealousy; I want to 
 get you out of the house before that fasci- 
 nating Manna returns." Bella was in great 
 good humor. 
 
 The next day, while Roland was with his 
 companions at the photographer's, decor- 
 ated with a new blue ribbon which he had 
 secretly fastened on his dress, and while 
 servants were distributing cards of invita- 
 tion to the great Sonuenkamp ball, Sonnen- 
 kamp himself, accompanied only by Lootz, 
 drove to Yilla Eden. 
 
 CHAPTER v. 
 A STRONG HAKD IS POWERLESS. 
 
 The Frau Professorin was sitting at the 
 window of the warm and comfortable sit- 
 ting-room. Carpets and cushions within, 
 and moss without, shut out every draught. 
 The sewing-machine at which she sat moved 
 so easily, that scarce a sound was heard 
 from it. From the river came the noise of 
 the grating and crashing of the great masses 
 of ice, as they struck against one another, 
 changed their shapes, and floated on again. 
 
 She often looked out across the river and 
 into the country, and saw the smoke rising 
 from the houses in the different hamlets : 
 she was familiar with the life there now. 
 
 Accompanied sometimes by Fraulein 
 Milch, sometimes by the huntsman, but 
 generally by Sevenpiper, whose cheerful- 
 ness she took great delight in, she had made 
 her way everywhere, ordering and helping 
 with word and deed. There was a constant 
 passing of visitors back and forth, some 
 coming with thanks, and some with new pe- 
 titions. She thought herself highly favored 
 in being allowed an activity so abundant, 
 and so immediately fruitful in results. 
 
 But the Frau Professorin w*as not without 
 higher pursuits, for she read over again her 
 husband's favorite books, and studied his 
 comments written on almost every page, 
 
 drawing thence a strength which enabled 
 her to live in silent communion with the de- 
 parted. Her husband's words she generally 
 read aloud ; it did her good to move her lips, 
 and hear a voice speaking his opinions. 
 Often also she had to read aloud, in order 
 to drive away the thoughts which crowded 
 upon her at all times, thoughts about Son- 
 nenkamp, his life and character, and what 
 he had been in the past, but especially 
 about Manna, and the feelings that were 
 working in her. She thought she under- 
 stood now the meaning of Manna's words 
 to Roland when she was leaving her parents' 
 home: "I too am an Iphigenia." She re- 
 peated to herself, as she sat at work, the 
 song of the Fates in Goethe's drama, and 
 her heart was burdened by this mystery of 
 
 ' the children's having to suffer for the sins 
 
 ; of the parents. 
 
 In the midst of these sonorous and pow- 
 erful lines, she heard the sound of wheels 
 stopping before the house. Perhaps it was 
 the Doctor coming to sit an hour with her, 
 as he often did ; she knew he liked to have 
 her stay quietly in her place. But it was 
 another step that approached, another knock 
 at the door, and Herr Sonnenkamp entered. 
 ** Are you quite alone ? " 
 " Quite alone. " 
 
 The Frau Professorin was greatly em- 
 barrassed ; this was the first time she had 
 seen Sonnenkamp since hearing that about 
 him which she could never tell him ; it re- 
 quired all her self-control to enable her to 
 offer him her hand. He drew off his fur 
 glove and grasped her hand in his. For 
 the first time she felt the steel ring on his 
 thumb like a cold snake. With terror she 
 saw her hand in his. This hand of Son- 
 nenkamp's, so thick and hard, with the fin- 
 gers bent back and the flesh growing over 
 the nails, was the hand of the Pharisee in 
 Titian's picture of the tribute money. So 
 between the thumb and forefinger does the 
 Pharisee hold the piece of money, and 
 there is an evil, violent, and hypocritical 
 look, if we may so express ourselves, about 
 the hand. She remembered standing one 
 day, during her wedding journey, in the pic- 
 ture gallery at Dresden, when her husband 
 covered for a moment the face of Christ 
 and that of the Pharisee, and drew her at- 
 tention to the wonderful drawing of the 
 two hands, which in themselves revealed 
 the opposite characters of the men. With 
 the speed of lightning did those thoughts 
 and images pass through the lady's mind. 
 
 Sonnenkamp observed this emotion, so 
 unlike her usual calm self-possession, but 
 naturally attributing it to surprise, said with 
 ready tact : — 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 303 
 
 "I have often noticed that intellectual 
 persons who live much in themselves, and 
 especially noble women of superior cultiva- 
 tion, are not fond of surprises ; I must 
 therefore beg your forgiveness for this 
 one. 11 
 
 The Frau Professorin looked at him in 
 amazement. How was it possible that a 
 man, whose life in the past had been what 
 this man's had, could understand such sub- 
 tle emotions and express them so delicately? 
 She confessed that he had rightly inter- 
 preted her emotion, and asked whether his 
 visit was to herself, or one of inspection to 
 his establishment. The question was an 
 awkward one, she knew, but she could 
 think of no other at the moment. 
 
 " My visit concerns no one but yourself, 11 
 said Sonnen kamp ; "and I almost regret 
 my purpose of disturbing this beautiful re- 
 pose. I come from a life of such confusion 
 as makes it hard to believe that repose like 
 yours can exist upon the same planet. We 
 live in a perpetual whirl ; the only comfort 
 is that we have still the power of sleeping. 11 
 
 "I am familiar with this excitement of 
 carnival time, 11 said the lady smiling. " How 
 we long for quiet, and yet are ever pursued 
 by the music and laughter of the evening 
 before. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp now openly declared the 
 object of his visit ; and with great humility 
 begged the Frau Professorin to confer upon 
 his house the grace and dignity which she 
 only could give it. 
 
 The lady regretted she must decline ; she 
 was no longer fitted for gaiety. 
 
 " I should not have thought your views 
 of life would be gloomy, but rather free and 
 cheerful. 11 
 
 " I believe they are. I do not consider 
 our life as a dismal charitable institution, 
 from which all cheerfulness is banished. It 
 is right that youth should dance, and not 
 think of the people who are shivering with 
 the cold, and of the grief and misery every- 
 where, at the very moment they are moving 
 so gaily. I love cheerfulness ; we have no 
 strength without it. 11 
 
 " Give us your help then ; all the more 
 will we devote ourselves afterward to our 
 poor brothers and sisters of the great hu- 
 man family. 1 ' 
 
 The Professorin had to struggle against a 
 feeling of indignation, that would rise within 
 her, at the idea of the man trilling thus with 
 words like these. She looked at his hands 
 as if there was blood upon them, and these 
 blood-stained hands were offering her fes- 
 tive wine. 
 
 She could say no more, she only shook 
 her head, repeating, — 
 
 " I cannot ; believe me, I cannot. 11 
 "Then," began Sonnenkamp, "I shall 
 
 proceed at once to tell you the secret of my 
 
 life. 11 
 
 The Professorin had to put both hands 
 on her table to steady herself. What was 
 the man going to say ! She silently in- 
 clined her head, and Sonnenkamp told how 
 it was his unwavering desire, and a matter of 
 necessity for his wife, Roland and Manna, 
 that he should be raised to the ranks of the 
 nobility. 
 
 The Professorin shuddered. What? Did 
 this man dare to propose such a thing ? The 
 von Burgholz spirit was roused within her. 
 How could a man with such a past as his 
 have such presumption? 
 
 Sonnenkamp watched her eagerly. Some- 
 thing was going on in the mind of this wo- 
 man which he could not fathom. She kept 
 silence, making no response to the confidence 
 he had honored her with. 
 
 " Why do you not answer? 11 he asked 
 at last. 
 
 The lady controlled herself and said, as 
 she inclined her head somewhat backwards : 
 
 " Shall you not find it hard to bear 
 another name ? 11 • 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked keenly at her. 
 
 " I found it hard as a wife, 11 she continued, 
 " to bear another name. 11 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear lady, 11 replied 
 Sonnenkamp courteously ; " you had to take 
 a citizen's name ; it is much easier to as- 
 sume a noble one. 11 
 
 He exhorted her, urged his request upon 
 her more earnestly, enforcing it by the 
 warmly expressed wish of the countess 
 Bella. 
 
 The Professorin insisted that no one, 
 even though admitted to the closest friend- 
 ship, could decide upon the life she should 
 lead ; she was resolved never to return to 
 society. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was driven to extremity. 
 He believed that the Professorin's only 
 objection was to appearing as a dependant, 
 and that she would no longer refuse, if a 
 free and independent position were assured 
 her. In a manner, therefore, at once un- 
 assuming and emphatic, he told her that he 
 should here, and now, put into her hands a 
 sum of money sufficient to maintain her in 
 an establishment of her own for the rest of 
 her life. He put his hand in his breast- 
 pocket as he spoke, and drew out his pocket- 
 book. 
 
 "No, sir, I beg of you, 11 answered the 
 Professorin, coloring deeply and fixing her 
 eyes upon his fingers, — just so did the 
 Pharisee hold the piece of money. "It's 
 not that, I assure you. I am ashamed of 
 
304 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 no position, since I have the true honor 
 within myself; neither do I fear, as you 
 possibly imagine, being too deeply moved 
 by contact with any of the relations of soci- 
 ety. I have voluntarily resigned all con- 
 nection with it. I have made no outward 
 vow, but I beg you to respect my decision 
 as the vow of a nun, as you would if it were 
 the decision of your daughter. I regret 
 that I must beg you to urge me no further, 
 as no inducements could have any influence 
 upon me.V 
 
 It was hard for Sonnenkamp ^;o control 
 his anger, and restore the pocket-book to its 
 place. 
 
 He rose and went to the window. 
 
 For some time he gazed fixedly out, then 
 turning round with a smile, he said, — 
 
 "There in the river are floating the 
 blocks of ice ; a soft breath bursts the icy 
 covering ; why might not also, my honored 
 friend — you will allow me so to call you — 
 every one has in his life a something — I 
 know not how to call it, an action, a pur- 
 pose — you understand what I mean — that 
 ought not to fetter all our future. 1 ' 
 
 " Allow me to say," returned the Profes- 
 sorin, " that in my case this would be a 
 breach of faith. I have nothing left in the 
 world but fidelity to myself." 
 
 " You fill me with admiration," said Son- 
 nenkamp, hoping to gain his point by ex- 
 pressions of admiring respect. 
 
 He was obliged to assume a gracious and 
 smiling exterior while inwardly chafing, for 
 the Professorin was immovable. There was 
 an imploring manner about him, as if he 
 would say : I know no way of help but 
 through you ; yet he found himself unable 
 to put it into words. 
 
 The Professorin felt that she must do 
 something kind to the poor rich man, must 
 give him something to restore his cheerful- 
 ness and courage, and with hearty sincerity 
 she said, — 
 
 " Let me express to you the thanks of the 
 hundreds whom you have fed and comforted. 
 You have made me very happy by employ- 
 ing me as the medium of your benefactions, 
 and I desire that you should feel yourself 
 the source of happiness to others." 
 
 With great animation she described the 
 excellent order into which the neighborhood 
 had been brought, and how her help had 
 not waited for sickness, either physical or 
 moral, but had helped forward those who 
 were sound. She told so many beautiful 
 and touching incidents, that Sonnenkamp 
 could only stammer out as he gazed at her : 
 
 "It is all well — very well — I thank 
 you." 
 
 He once more gave her his hand and left 
 
 the room. At the front door he encountered 
 Fräulein Milch, but hurried by almost with- 
 out looking at her. 
 
 Fräulein Milch found the Professorin 
 washing her hands with all her might, as if 
 she feared she should never wash them clean 
 from the man's touch. 
 
 " Did he tell you he was to be raised to 
 the ranks of the nobility ? " asked the Fräu- 
 lein. 
 
 The Professorin looked at her in amaze- 
 ment. How came this simple housekeeper 
 in her seclusion to know everything ? 
 
 The butcher from the capital, Fräulein 
 Milch said, who had been buying a pair of 
 fat oxen from her neighbor, had spread the 
 report. 
 
 Secrets creep out through strange chan- 
 nels. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 GOLD GIVES FAME. 
 
 A stranger is inspecting the house, the 
 garden, the park, the hot-houses, the stables. 
 Who owns them all ? An American, about 
 whose past life there is a mystery. 
 
 Sonnenkamp returned to his old home- 
 life as in a dream ; he looked back upon a 
 time long past ; it was no longer himself, 
 buta stranger who was examining the place ; 
 he who had built and planted it all was 
 dead. Sonnenkamp smote his forehead with 
 his hand, to banish the spell which was 
 overmastering him. What power was weav- 
 ing it over hira, and depriving him of his own 
 personality? Nothing but this woman's 
 poor pride in her own virtue. 
 
 "I still am, I still will, and all of them 
 shall serve me," he said aloud to himself. 
 
 He examined the trees in the garden ; a 
 pure tender covering of hoar frost upon the 
 branches kept them motionless, and threw 
 over all around an aspect of such stillness, 
 yet so shining and glorified, that the specta- 
 tor involuntary held his breath. Here and 
 there trees and shrubs had been cut down 
 by his direction, as was necessary in order 
 that the artistic effects that were aimed at 
 in the laying out of the park should be pre- 
 served ; and Sonnenkamp never allowed 
 the growth of the trees to exceed the con- 
 ception he had in his mind when planning 
 his grounds. 
 
 Two fine Newfoundland dogs, which had 
 always been his close companions, he order- 
 ed to be let loose, and smiled as the crea- 
 tures leaped upon him full of delight at 
 greeting their master. There was some- 
 thing that could give him a joyous greeting 
 and be glad in his presence ; dogs after all 
 were the best creatures in the world. He 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON* THE EHINE. 
 
 305 
 
 made the entire circuit of the place with 
 the dogs, and when he reached the fruit 
 orchard looked about him with a pleased 
 smile ; the carefully trained branches, with 
 their mantle of snowy rime, were like the 
 most delicate works of art. He on 
 wished that he could transplant them ju 
 as they were into the capital, and set them 
 up before the astonished eyes of his guests. 
 
 His guests ! Would they really come ? 
 Would not this entertainment so pom- 
 pously announced end in humiliation ? The 
 branches of fruit-trees can be trained and 
 bent at will ; why are men so obstinate ? 
 Suddenly his face broke into a smile. He 
 had heard a great deal said of a famous 
 singer who was enchanting all Paris ; she 
 must come, cost what it would, and she 
 must pledge herself to give no public con- 
 cert, but to sing only in his drawing-room, 
 and perhaps at court. He would offer the 
 contemptible beau-monde of the capital 
 what no one else could. 
 
 He had the dogs shut up again, and 
 heard them whining and barking. That 
 was all right ; the only kind of creatures to 
 have were those that could be sent for 
 when you wanted them, and shut up when 
 you were tired of them. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had the horses harnessed at 
 once and drove to the telegraph station, 
 whence he sent a message to his agent in 
 Paris, stating exactly his plan, and order- 
 ing the answer to be returned to him at the 
 capital. Animated with fresh courage, full 
 of contempt for the whole world and of pride 
 in his own fertile invention, he drove back 
 to the hotel. That same evening he re- 
 ceived the intelligence that the singer 
 would come. Pranken was with him when 
 the message was received. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was anxious to have the 
 world at once informed of this extraordi- 
 nary entertainment which he was able to 
 offer them ; it should be announced in the 
 court journal. But Pranken was opposed 
 to any such public announcement, and ad- 
 vised that one and another of the guests 
 should be confidentially informed of the 
 pleasure in store for them ; and then every 
 one would be flattered by the confidence, 
 and would duly spread the news abroad. 
 Pranken himself undertook to communicate 
 the extraordinary intelligence to some of his 
 favorite companions at the military club. 
 
 The singer came, and exercised a greater 
 force of attraction than the Frau Profes- 
 sorin could have done. 
 
 Bella appeared early on the evening of 
 the ball, and congratulated Sonnenkamp on 
 his great success ; and in fact nothing was 
 wanting to the brilliancy of the entertain- 
 
 ment. The popular Prince appeared with 
 his wife, and the rooms were filled with the 
 cream of the society of the capital ; the 
 American Consul-general, with his wife and 
 two daughters, was present also ; every- 
 where were heard expressions of admira- 
 tion of the host, and thanks for his gener- 
 osity. Frau Ceres alone was somewhat 
 out of temper at having her own splendor 
 eclipsed by the wonderful talent of the 
 singer, who drew the whole company about 
 her. The Prince talked with her a full 
 half hour, while with Frau Ceres he spoke 
 but a few minutes. 
 
 Sonnenkamp moved among his guests 
 with a feeling of triumph in his heart. Out- 
 wardly he affected great modesty, but in- 
 wardly he despised them all, saying to him- 
 self, — 
 
 A handful of gold can work wonders ; 
 honor, distinction in society, everything, 
 can be had for gold. 
 
 Two topics engrossed the conversation 
 of the capital the next day : Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp 1 s ball, the like of which the city had 
 never seen, and the death of the young 
 husband of Fräulein von Endlich, news of 
 which had been received the evening be- 
 fore, but had been kept back in order not 
 to deprive the family and numerous con- 
 nections of the Court Marshal from enjoy- 
 ing Sonnenkamp's ball. 
 
 The next evening, the paper edited by 
 Professor Crutius contained a witty article 
 upon the two events, sarcastically blending 
 the news of the death with the Sonnenkamp 
 ball. The splendor of the occasion was 
 thus partially dimmed, and Sonnenkamp 
 discussed with Pranken the possibility of 
 gaining over this poor devil of an editor 
 also with a handful of gold. 
 
 Pranken opposed the plan, on the ground 
 that no communication of any kind should 
 be held with these communists, as he called 
 all those who were not in sympathy with 
 the government ; and this man, who scorned 
 no means that could further the plan of 
 being admitted to the nobility, was amazed 
 that Sonnenkamp should not be ashamed 
 of employing bribery here. 
 
 Sonnenkamp appeared convinced, but 
 appealed to Eric, who before had been the 
 medium of conveying relief to the man, 
 and desired him to put himself again in 
 communication with him, and let him know 
 that Sonnenkamp was ready to assist him if 
 he were in need. 
 
 Eric emphatically excused himself. 
 
 The singer was not summoned to Court, 
 it being contrary to etiquette that she 
 should sing there after appearing in the 
 house of a private citizen. She left the 
 
öot> 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 capital, and Sonnenkamp, ball, and music 
 were soon forgotten. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was even obliged to submit 
 to the humiliation of not being invited him- 
 self to Court. He was openly given to 
 understand that the Sovereign had been 
 much displeased with his having, at the 
 French play, so awkwardly introduced a 
 matter which needed to be handled with 
 the greatest delicacy. Pranken told him 
 this in a tone of malicious pleasure mixed 
 with regret ; Sonnenkamp should always 
 keep in mind that he Avas to be indebted to 
 him for his patent of nobility. 
 
 The evening of the court ball, which was 
 the one subject of conversation throughout 
 the capital, and which was attended by two 
 noble families from the Hotel Victoria who 
 had come from the country for the purpose, 
 was a most trying time to Sonnenkamp ; 
 yet he had to hide his rage and exert him- 
 self to comfort Frau Ceres, who kept insist- 
 ing on leaving the capital at once, since 
 this was the onQ thing she had been aiming 
 at, and now it was all over. 
 
 Even the Cabinetsräthin absented herself 
 this evening, being obliged, to her great re- 
 gret, as she said, to appear at Court. Thus 
 the family sat by themselves ; and this eve- 
 ning, for the first time, Erie managed to 
 acquire again a firmer hold upon Roland's 
 mind, for Roland, too, was full of indignation. 
 He listened in silence, but with dilating eye, 
 as Eric described the emptiness of all worldly 
 honors if we have not a consciousness of 
 self-respect within us ; for they make us 
 dependent upon others, and such dependence 
 was the most abject slavery. 
 
 At the word slavery, Roland rose and 
 asked Eric if he had forgotten his promise 
 of telling him how different nations dealt 
 with slavery. Eric was amazed that the 
 subject should have dwelt in the boy's mind 
 through all the excitement he had under- 
 gone, and promised to give him the history 
 of the whole matter, as far as he was able, 
 when they should return to Villa Eden. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had great difficulty in con- 
 cealing his sense of injury, yet he must not 
 give additional weight to the slight that had 
 been put upon him by allowing his feelings 
 to appear. The family of the Cabinets- 
 räthin he took especial pains to load with 
 friendly attentions. They must be made to 
 keep to their bargain ; they had had their 
 pay, and were not to be allowed to cheat 
 him. He made the young cadet a spy upon 
 his son, giving him money for taking Roland 
 to the gaming-table, tempting him to high 
 play, and then making an exact report of his 
 behavior. He was not a little surprised at | 
 the cadet's reporting that Roland utterly re- I 
 
 fused to play, because he had promised 
 Eric never to gamble, even for an apparently 
 trifling stake. 
 
 Sonnenkamp would have liked to thank 
 Eric for this great influence over his son, 
 but judged it best to feign ignorance of the 
 whole matter. He begged Bella, when she 
 came for Eric to fulfil his promise and take 
 her to the cabinet of antique casts, not to 
 disturb his wife's present tranquillity by re- 
 ferring to the court-ball. 
 
 Eric took Roland with them to the muse- 
 um, and though Bella said nothing, she un- 
 derstood his motive for doing so. On their 
 way thither they met the Russian prince, 
 and Bella ordered the carriage to stop and 
 invited him to accompany them, thinking 
 that thus the party could divide into two 
 groups, the Russian walking sometimes with 
 Roland, and she with Eric ; but she could 
 not manage it so ; Eric did not once let go 
 of Roland's hand. 
 
 They stood long before the group of Niobe 
 and her children, Bella jokingly protesting 
 that the teacher, who seeks to protect the boy 
 from the arrow of the god, was of the Rus- , 
 sian type. Eric might explain as often as he 
 would that the head was a modern addition 
 and represented a Scythian, that the teacher 
 was a slave who attended the boy to school 
 or wherever he went, as one of our lackeys 
 might, she still insisted that he was a Rus- 
 sian. As Eric called attention to the fact, 
 that the maiden in the centre of the group 
 clings to her mother Niobe and hides her 
 face in terror, while the boy by the side of 
 his attendant voluntarily turns toward the 
 danger, and with outstretched hand strives 
 to avert it, Roland gazed fixedly upon him, 
 and turned almost as white as the plaster 
 itself; his eye sparkled, and the soft dark 
 hair just beginning to show on lip and chin 
 seemed to tremble. On the way home he 
 drew close to Eric, and trembling as if with 
 cold said : — 
 
 " Do you remember when that letter with 
 the great seal came to your parent's house ? " 
 
 " Certainly — certainly." 
 
 " Then you should have been director, 
 and is it not strange, here stand these fig- 
 ures day and night, summer and winter, 
 waiting for us, and keeping still, and look- 
 ing up while we are dancing and dying." 
 
 " What are you talking of? " asked Eric, 
 alarmed by Roland's strange tone and man- 
 ner. 
 
 "Oh, nothing — nothing. I don't know 
 myself what I am saying. I seem to be 
 only hearing the words, and yet am really 
 saying them. I don't know what is the mat- 
 ter with me." 
 
 Eric hurried the feverish boy home. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 307 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER AJfD NIOBE'S SON. 
 
 Every day, whenever Frau Ceres saw 
 Roland, she would say : — 
 
 44 Why, Roland, how pale you look ! Does 
 he not look very pale ? " Here she invaria- 
 bly appealed to Eric, and upon his answer- 
 ing in the negative seemed reassured. 
 
 But one day when the Mother exclaimed 
 in terror : — 
 
 44 Why. Roland, you do look so pale!" 
 Eric could not deny it. 
 
 44 1 don't know what is the matter with 
 me," he complained as Eric took him to 
 his chamber. 
 
 44 Everything seems to be turning round 
 me," he said as he looked about the room. 
 44 What does it mean ? Oh ! Oh ! " 
 
 He sank down on a chair and burst into 
 a sudden fit of weeping. 
 
 Eric stood amazed. 
 
 The boy seemed to lose consciousness, 
 and, with his eyes wide open, stared at Eric 
 as if he did not see him. 
 
 "Roland, what is the matter?" asked 
 Eric. 
 
 Roland did not answer ; his head was like 
 ice. 
 
 Eric gave a pull at the bell, and then 
 bent over the boy again. 
 
 Sonnenkamp entered, to know why they 
 did not come to dinner. Eric pointed to 
 Roland. 
 
 The father threw himself upon the lifeless 
 form, and a piercing. cry was wrung from 
 his breast. 
 
 Joseph was sent in haste for a phvsician, 
 and by the use of strong salts Roland was 
 restored to consciousness. His father and 
 Eric undressed him and put him to bed, the 
 poor boy moaning all the while, and his 
 teeth chattering with the chill that followed 
 the first attack of fever. 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked in terror at the anx- 
 iety depicted on the physician's face when 
 he saw his patient. 
 
 4 ' It is a very violent attack ; I don't know 
 what the result may be. Has he often such ? " 
 asked the doctor. 
 
 "Never before! never before.!" cried 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Alter the application of various restora- 
 tives Roland was able again to speak, and 
 his first words were : — 
 
 " I thank you, Eric." 
 
 The doctor left, after giving strict orders 
 that the patient should be kept quiet, so 
 that if possible he might sleep. After an 
 hour of anxiety, during which Eric and Son- 
 nenkamp scarcely ventured to speak to 
 one another, he returned ; and having exam- 
 
 ined Roland again, he pronounced that the 
 nervous system had been overstrained, and 
 that he was threatened with nervous fever. 
 
 44 Misfortunes never come singly," said 
 Sonnenkamp. They were the only words 
 he spoke that night, during the whole of 
 which he watched in the adjoining room, oc- 
 casionally stealing on tip-toe to the sick 
 boy's bed to listen to his breathing. 
 
 When Frau Ceres sent to know why they 
 did not return to the drawing-room, they 
 sent an evasive answer and begged her to 
 go to bed. Having understood, however, 
 that Roland was slightly unwell, she came 
 softly to his bedside during the night, and 
 seeing him quietly sleeping returned to her 
 own room. 
 
 44 Misfortunes never come singly," Son- 
 nenkamp repeated when the next morning 
 at dawn the physician pronounced the fever 
 to have declared itself. He ordered the 
 most careful nursing, and wanted to send 
 for a sister of charity, but Eric said that his 
 mother would be the best nurse Roland 
 could have. 
 
 44 Do you think she will come ? " 
 44 Certainly." 
 
 A telegram was at once despatched to the 
 green house, and in an hour the answer 
 came that mother and aunt were on their 
 way. 
 
 The news of the beautiful boy's severe 
 illness spread rapidly through the city. 
 Servants in all manner of liveries, and even 
 the first ladies and gentlemen, came to in- 
 quire after him. 
 
 The noisy music of the noon parade 
 startled Roland as it passed the house, and 
 he screamed : — 
 
 44 The savages are coming! the savages 
 are coming ! the red skins, the savages are 
 coming ! Hiawath'a ! Laughing-water ! — The 
 money belongs to the boy ; he didn't steal it. 
 — Hats off before the baron, do you hear? 
 fly ! — The blacks ! — Ah ! Franklin ! " 
 
 Eric offered to request the Commandant 
 for an order to have the band pass, through, 
 another street, or at least stop playing when 
 passing the hotel. 
 
 A sudden thaw having carried away the 
 snow, it was found necessary to spread straw 
 before the whole front of the Hotel Victo- 
 ria, to deaden the sound of the wheels. 
 
 Eric's mother received a most cordial 
 greeting from Sonnenkamp, and did her 
 best to soothe Frau Ceres, who complained 
 that it was horrible to have Roland ill, and 
 that she had to suffer for it, as she was ill 
 herself. At the Mother's suggestion, which 
 Sonnenkamp at once adopted, being only 
 too happy to have anything to do, any new 
 means to' try, Dr. Richard, who was fainLU 
 
308 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 iarwith Roland's constitution, was also tele- 
 graphed for. He arrived at a late hour of 
 the night, and approved of all that had been 
 done for Roland. He laid his chief injunc- 
 tions upon Eric and his mother, impressing 
 on them the necessity of guarding them- 
 selves as much as possible from the nervous 
 excitement attendant on a life in a sick- 
 room, of taking plenty of rest and amuse- 
 ment, going out often and refreshing their 
 minds with new images. He would not 
 leave them till both had given a promise to 
 this effect. 
 
 After a consultation with the attending 
 physician he prepared to depart, but when 
 shaking hands at parting stopped to say : — 
 
 " I must warn you against the Countess 
 von Wolfsgarten. " 
 
 Erie was startled. 
 
 " She has remedies for every possible 
 disease ; and you must politely but reso- 
 lutely decline whatever she, in her dictato- 
 rial way, may press upon you." 
 
 " He is not going to die, is he? " asked 
 Sonnenkamp of the physician, as he stood 
 upon the steps. 
 
 The physician replied, that in extreme 
 cases the powers of nature were all we could 
 rely upon. 
 
 Sonnenkamp fairly shook with rage, rage 
 against the whole world. With all his 
 wealth he could do nothing, command noth- 
 ing ; but must fall back upon the powers of 
 nature, in which Roland had no advantage 
 over the son of a beggar ! 
 
 Frau Ceres lay upon the sofa in the bal- 
 cony room among the flowers and birds, 
 staring vacantly at them, scarcely speak- 
 ing, and eating and drinking almost noth- 
 ing. She did not venture to go to Roland's 
 bed, but required to be informed every hour 
 how he was. 
 
 The entire want of union among the mem- 
 bers of the houshold became now apparent. 
 Each one lived for himself, and thought 
 every one else was there only for. the pur- 
 pose of adding to his or her comfort. 
 
 At noon a great event occurred, nothing 
 less than the reigning Princess sending her 
 own court physician. Sonnenkamp was full 
 of gratitude for this distinction, which un- 
 happily he had to receive under such mel- 
 ancholy circumstances. 
 
 Day and night, Eric, his mother, and aunt 
 sat, now by turns, and now together, by the 
 sick boy's bed. He knew no one,' but lay 
 the greater part of the time in a half sleep ; 
 sometimes, however, in an access of fever, 
 he would start up with a glowing face and 
 cry : — 
 
 " Papa is dancing upon the black people's 
 heads ! Give me back my blue ribbon ! Ah, 
 
 ah ! " Then as if in an ecstacy he would 
 exclaim, "Ah! that is the German forest! 
 quiet, Devil ! There, take the may-flowers — 
 blue ribbon — the boy has stolen the ring — 
 the laughing sprite — respect to the young 
 baron — back, Griffin ! " 
 
 The touch of Eric's hand upon his fore- 
 head always soothed him. Once when his 
 father was present, Roland sang a negro 
 song, but so unintelligibly that they could 
 hardly make out the words. Suddenly, 
 however, he cried out : — 
 
 " Away with those great books ! take 
 away the great books ! they are written with 
 blood ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp inquired if Roland had ever 
 sung the song when he was well ; and if 
 Eric knew from whom he had learned it. 
 Eric had never heard it. Sonnenkamp's 
 manner towards Eric and his mother was 
 full of humbje respect. He gratefully con- 
 fessed that this illness, which threatened his 
 very existence, had yet given him that which 
 otherwise he might never have obtained. 
 He had never believed in human goodness 
 and unselfish devotion ; but he saw them 
 now displayed before him in unceasing ac- 
 tivity. He would gladly kneel before the 
 Mother and worship her, he added with an 
 expression that came from his heart, for she 
 had refused to come for pleasure, but was 
 ready at once when called to night-watch- 
 ing and the exercise of sorely tried patience ; 
 he should never, never forget it. 
 
 The Mother felt that there was another 
 patient here needing her care, besides the 
 fevered boy who lay there with closed eyes. 
 Her intercourse with Sonnenkamp became 
 more intimate ; he complained to her of his 
 never-resting grief, and again and again 
 would come the thought : What I desire, I 
 desire only for this son. If he die, I shall 
 kill myself. I am worse than killed now, 
 and no one must know it. Here is a being 
 who has no past, must have no past ; and 
 now his future is to be taken from him ! 
 
 " Am I to have no son because I was no 
 son ? " he cried once, but quickly controll- 
 ing himself he added : " Do not heed me, 
 dear lady ; I am speaking myself like a man 
 in fever." 
 
 The Mb-ther begged him to compose him- 
 self, for she was sure that by the mysteri- 
 ous laws of sympathy, any excitement in 
 those about him would react upon the pa- 
 tient. 
 
 In the stillness of the night the Mother 
 sat by the boy's sick-bed, listening to the 
 chimes that rang out the hours from the 
 church tower ; and these bells, heard in the 
 night by the sick-bed of the poor rich boy, 
 brought up her own life before her. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 309 
 
 Eric often reproached himself for his too 
 great indulgence, in having allowed Roland 
 to be drawn into that whirl of excitement 
 which was now perhaps killing him ; and he 
 remembered that day in the cold gallery 
 before the Niobe, when the fever first showed 
 itself. He was another whom the Mother 
 had to soothe. She alone preserved a firm 
 balance, and offered a support on which all 
 others could lean. She handed Eric the 
 letter she had received from Professor Ein- 
 siedel on New Year's day, and asked about 
 the scientific work which she had not before 
 heard of. Eric explained how it had all 
 come about. His mother perceived that he 
 had yet learned nothing of Sonnenkamp's 
 past life, and took care to tell him nothing, 
 thinking he ought not to have the addition- 
 al burden of such knowledge at this time of 
 anxiety for the sick boy, and of increased 
 difficulties in the way of his training. 
 
 In obedience to Dr. Richard's strict di- 
 rections, the Mother often went out to 
 visit her old friends, among them the wife 
 of the Minister of War, and was greatly 
 comforted at learning that Eric could have 
 a professorship in the school of cadets, when 
 Roland entered the academy. She always 
 returned home greatly cheered from these 
 visits. 
 
 Eric, too, made calls, spending many 
 hours with Clodwig. Bella he seldom saw, 
 and then but for a short time ; she evidently 
 avoided now any interview with him alone. 
 
 Pranken took great offence at Eric's 
 mother having been sent for without his ad- 
 vice ; these Dournays seemed to him to be 
 weaving a net about the Sonnenkamp fam- 
 ily. He came sometimes to inquire for Ro- 
 land, but spent most of his time at Herr 
 von Endlich's, in the society of the young 
 widow lately returned from Madeira. 
 
 Much as Eric had desired to become bet- 
 ter acquainted with Weidmann, the whirl 
 of society had hitherto prevented, and now 
 that the Parliament was no longer in ses- 
 sion, Weidmann had left the capital without 
 any closer relation having been formed 
 between them. 
 
 Weeks passed away in trembling sus- 
 pense. The sick boy's wandering fancies 
 took a wholly new direction. He imagined 
 himself with Manna, and was constantly 
 talking to her, caressing her, jesting with 
 her, and teasing her about the picture of 
 Saint Anthony. Manna had not been told 
 of her brother's illness ; it seemed useless to 
 burden her with anxiety, when she could do 
 nothing to help. 
 
 Sonnenkamp continued to be greatly 
 vexed that there was nothing to be done but 
 • to wait for the forces of nature. He sent 
 
 considerable sums of money to the poor of 
 the capital and to all the charitable institu- 
 tions ; he reminded Eric of what he had 
 told him of the teachers' union, and handed 
 him a handsome sum for the furthering of 
 the objects of the association. 
 
 One day he asked the Professorin if it 
 were not possible that prayer might help the 
 sick. She replied that she knew no posi- 
 tive answer to such a question, that Sonnen- 
 kamp must compose himself, and be glad if 
 he could cherish such a beautiful faith. He 
 looked sadly at her. 
 
 Roland talked so constantly with his sis- 
 ter, that Sonnenkamp asked the physician if 
 Manna had not better be sent for, and was 
 delighted at receiving an affirmative an- 
 swer. 
 
 It was a comfort to him in the midst of 
 his duties, to think that now he could force 
 his child from the convent, and never let her 
 leave him more. His heart rejoiced in the 
 prospect of being able to have both his chil- 
 dren with him, when Roland was well again. 
 He walked up and down the room, rapidly 
 opening and shutting his hands, as if he were 
 leading his children by his side. 
 
 The careful Lootz was despatched to the 
 convent with an urgent letter enclosing the 
 doctor's directions, to which he would gladly 
 have added a few words of the Professorin ; 
 but she was resolved to interfere in no pos- 
 sible way of Manna's plan of life, even in a 
 case of extreme necessity, and refused to 
 write. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A SISTER OUTSIDE THE FAMILY. 
 
 Snow lay upon the roof of the convent, 
 and upon the trees, meadows, and roads of 
 the island ; but within the great house was 
 an animated twofold life, for the whole sa- 
 cred narrative was here rehearsed afresh in 
 the minds and before the eyes of the child- 
 ren. Every day were recalled those nightly 
 events, so touching and blessed, that took 
 place in Canaan nearly two thousand years 
 ago. Manna lived so entirely in these rep- 
 resentations, that she often had to stop and 
 force herself to think where she was. She 
 was seized with a longing to make a pil- 
 grimage to Jerusalem, to kiss the soil of the 
 Holy Land, and there atone for all the evil 
 done by those who were near to her, and 
 those who were strangers to her. 
 
 Her eyes beamed as with a fire from 
 above, while with wonderful power she re- 
 peated the sacred history to little Heimchen, 
 who was again sick in bed. But the" little 
 girl made her smile to-day by asking : — 
 
 " Is there snow in Jerusalem too, then? V 
 
310 
 
 THE COUNTRY -nOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Manna had scarcely considered what sea- 
 son of the year it was, so entirely was she 
 absorbed in the life she was describing. As 
 she turned to look at the melting snow, 
 a lay-sister entered and handed her a let- 
 ter. 
 
 " Where is the messenger?" she asked. 
 
 14 He is waiting in the reception-room." 
 
 44 1 will give him an answer," returned 
 Manna, and began to read her letter a sec- 
 ond time. 
 
 She paced the cell backwards and for-, 
 wards ; at one moment she wanted to seek 
 the Lady Superior and ask what she should 
 do, but the next, her heart shrank at the 
 thought. Why ask advice of another hu- 
 man being ? She looked at her hand, which 
 had been pressed upon her eyes. You can- 
 not weep, said a voice within her ; you must 
 not weep for aught in this world. 
 
 44 What is the matter ? " cried Heimchen 
 from the bed. " What makes you look so 
 cross ? " 
 
 44 I am not cross, I am not cross ; do you 
 think I am ? » 
 
 "No; now you look pleasant again. 
 Stay with me, Manna — stay with me ; don't 
 go away — stay with me, Manna. Manna, 
 I shall die." 
 
 Manna bent over the child and soothed 
 her. This is the first trial, she thought, 
 and it is a hard one. Now I must show 
 whether love of mankind, of the Saviour, is 
 stronger in me than family affection. I 
 ought, I must ! She committed Henrichen 
 to the care of a lay-sister, and, promising 
 soon to return, descended to the church. At 
 sight of the picture, which made her think 
 involuntarily of the man who was with Ro- 
 land, she covered her face with her hands, 
 threw herself in deep contrition upon her 
 knees, and prayed fervently. Thus she lay 
 long, her lace buried in her hands. At 
 length her decision was made, and she rose. 
 I ought and must, and I can ! I must have 
 strength for it ! I am resolved to live only 
 for the service of the Eternal. Roland has 
 good care taken of him ; he recognizes no 
 one ; if I go to him it will be to remove my 
 own distress, not his. Here, on the other 
 hand, is Heimchen sick and needing me. 
 There is no question as to my duty ; I will 
 stay at the post where not my will, but that 
 of the Highest, has placed me. 
 
 She remembered the Lady Superior tell- 
 ing her how her father and mother had died, 
 and she could not leave her convent to go 
 to them. Manna resolved to do the same 
 jthing voluntarily, under the compulsion of 
 no vow. She trembled as she thought that 
 it might be better for Roland if he could die 
 now before he fell into sin, and perhaps had 
 
 I to hear the dreadful secret. The idea was 
 almost more than she could bear, but she 
 held her resolution fast. 
 
 Manna returned to her cell, meaning to 
 write and tell all that was in her soul, but 
 she could not. She descended to the re- 
 ception-room, told Lootz simply that she 
 could not go back with him ; and then, re- 
 turning again to her cell, looked out upon 
 the landscape. Life seemed frozen within 
 her, but as the melting snow dripped from 
 the roof, so her tears broke forth at last, 
 and she wept bitterly ; yet her decision re- 
 mained unshaken. The whole night was 
 spent in watching and prayer, and the next 
 morning she told her story to the Lady Su- 
 perior, who made no answer besides a silent 
 inclination of the head. 
 
 Again in her cell, Manna read the letter, 
 and was made aware for the first time that 
 Eric's mother was nursing Roland. The 
 paper trembled in her hand, as- she read of 
 Roland's constant talking with her in his 
 fevered ravings. Why did her father write 
 nothing of Pranken ? Where was he ? she 
 asked herself ; then, indignant that her 
 thoughts should still cling to the world, 
 with a sudden resolve she flung the letter 
 into the open grate, and watched it break 
 into momentary flame, and then float in. 
 light flakes up the chimney. So had it 
 been in her heart, so ought it to be ; noth- 
 ing more from the outer world should reach 
 her. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 GROWTH DURING ILLNESS. 
 
 "He is saved!' 1 said the doctor, and 
 " He is saved," was repeated by voice after 
 voice through the whole city. 
 
 The doctor enjoined double care in guard- 
 ing Roland from the least excitement of any 
 kind, and when the boy complained of the 
 horrible tedium of his sick-room, both Eric 
 and the doctor laughingly reminded him 
 that he had his good time in the first place, 
 and that ennui was the first sure step to- 
 wards recovery. Roland complained also 
 of being kept hungry, and then added, his 
 face seeming to grow fuller and fairer as he 
 spoke : — 
 
 44 Hiawatha voluntarily suffered hunger, 
 and do you remember. Eric, my thinking 
 then that man was the only creature that 
 could voluntarily hunger ? Now I must 
 practice what I preached." 
 
 Roland showed himself particularly full 
 of affection toward Eric's mother. He 
 maintained that she was the only person he 
 had recognized during his delirium, and that 
 it had caused him the greatest distress not . 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 311 
 
 to be able to say so at the time, but the 
 wrong words would keep coming from his 
 mouth. Even the Mother did not stay with 
 him long at a time. 
 
 He rejoiced to see lilies of the valley in 
 his room, and remembered that he had 
 dreamed of them. 
 
 " Was not Manna with me too? I was 
 always seeing her black eyes." 
 
 Heimehen's illness, they told him, pre- 
 vented her leaving the convent. 
 
 He wanted to see the photograph taken 
 of him in his page's dress, and said to Eric : 
 
 "You were right, it will be a pleasant 
 recollection to me by and by. Indeed the 
 by and by is already here ; it seems to me 
 two years ago. Do give me a glass, for I 
 must know how I look." 
 
 "Not now," returned Eric; "not for a 
 week yet." 
 
 Roland was as obedient as a little child, 
 and as grateful as an appreciative man. 
 The second day, he begged Eric to let him 
 relieve his mind by speaking out what was 
 in it. 
 
 " If you will speak calmly I will hear you." 
 
 " Listen to me then, and warn me when 
 I speak too excitedly. I was on the sea, 
 and dolphins were playing about the ship, 
 when suddenly there was nothing to be seen 
 but black men's heads, and in the midst of 
 them a pulpit swimming, in which stood 
 Theodore Parker preaching with a mighty 
 voice, louder than the roaring of the sea ; 
 and the pulpit kept swimming on and on 
 with the ship " 
 
 " You are speaking excitedly already," 
 interposed Eric. Roland went on more 
 quietly, in a low tone, but every word per- 
 fectly distinct : — 
 
 "Now comes the most beautiful part of 
 all. I told you how as I lay in the forest 
 that time when I was journeying after you — 
 nearly a year ago now — there came a child 
 with long, bright, wavy hair, and said, 
 "This is the German forest;" and I gave 
 her mayflowers, and she was taken up in a 
 carriage and disappeared ; you remember it 
 all, don't you ? But in my dream it was 
 even more bright and beautiful. "This is 
 the German forest," was sung by hundreds 
 and hundreds of voices, just as it was at 
 the musical festival, oh, so beautifully, so 
 beautifully ! " 
 
 " That will do," interrupted Eric ; " you 
 have told enough, and must be left alone 
 awhile.' 1 
 
 Eric told his mother of the strange fairy 
 story, which that decisive journey had given 
 rise to in Eric's mind — he had heard of it 
 before from Glaus — and mentioned as a 
 singular circumstance, that this second rev- 
 
 olution in the boy's nature resulting in his 
 illness, should have recalled to him this 
 story. 
 
 The Mother was of opinion that some- 
 thing similar to the story must actually have 
 happened, but warned Eric not to refer to 
 the subject again, for every recollection of 
 past events retarded recovery and a re- 
 turn to a natural state of mind. 
 
 The first time Roland could stand up, 
 they were all surprised to see how much he 
 had grown during his illness. The down 
 too, on his lip and chin, to his great de- 
 light, had increased perceptibly. When he 
 saw, for the first time, the straw spread be- 
 fore the house, he said, — 
 
 " So the whole city has known of my ill- 
 ness, and I have every one to thank. 
 That is the best of all. How many I owe 
 gratitude to ! Whoever shall come to me 
 now, for the rest of my life will have a claim 
 upon me." 
 
 Eric and his mother exchanged glances 
 as Roland spoke, and then cast their eyes 
 to the ground. Wonderful was the awaken- 
 ing to life displayed before them in this 
 young soul. 
 
 " Did Eric tell you that I had seen Pran- 
 ken ? asked Roland. 
 
 " Yes. Now lie down to sleep." 
 
 " No," he cried ; " one thing more ! " 
 
 He called for his pocket-book, in which 
 he had written the name of the groom 
 whom he had suspected of robbing him on 
 his night journey. Reproaching himself 
 for having hitherto neglected to inquire 
 about him, he charged Eric to find the man, 
 who was now a soldier in his regiment here, 
 and bring him to his room. 
 
 The soldier came, and received from Ro- 
 land a sum of money very nearly as large 
 as that in the purse at the time. Eric had 
 no need to have given such strict injunc- 
 tions to the man not to excite Roland by 
 much talking, and vehement expressions of 
 gratitude, for the soldier had no power to 
 speak a word. He felt as if he were in 
 fairy land, at being thus summoned into a 
 great hotel, before a beautiful sick boy, and 
 presented with such a sum of money ; it 
 was like being transported into another 
 world. 
 
 Contented and happy, Roland lay in bed 
 again. He begged his father, when next 
 he came to his bedside, to give away all 
 his clothes, for he would wear none of them 
 again. 
 
 " Do you want to put on your uniform at 
 once ? " asked Sonnenkamp. 
 
 "No, not now ; but I want to go home 
 soon, as soon as we can, back to the villa ; 
 home, home ! " 
 
312 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Sonnenkamp promised all should be as 
 he desired. 
 
 The Professorin soon fell in with some 
 young people whom Roland's clothes just 
 fitted, and he exclaimed with delight when, 
 he heard it, — 
 
 "That is good; now my clothes will go 
 about the streets until I am there again 
 myself; I shall be represented sevenfold." 
 
 He desired his father to express his 
 thanks to all the persons who had so kindly 
 shown an interest in him, a duty which 
 Sonnenkamp would readily have performed 
 without this admonition. It afforded the 
 best possible way, better than the most 
 brilliant entertainment, of coming in con- 
 tact with the aristocracy. 
 
 With his handsomest carriage and horses, 
 Sonnenkamp drove through the whole city. 
 His wife had refused all his entreaties that 
 she would accompany him ; but he succeeded 
 in inducing the Professorin to be his com- 
 panion. She, also, refused at first, but 
 yielded to Roland's persuasions. It was 
 the first request, as he said, that he had 
 asked of her since his return to life, and 
 she should and must gratify him by going 
 with his father. 
 
 In proportion to the pain it cost the noble 
 lady to make her reappearance before the 
 world in such companionship, was the ease 
 with which all doors flew open, as if by 
 magic, wherever Lootz showed the cards of 
 the Professorin and Sonnenkamp. 
 
 The lady herself was often unconscious" 
 that this was the effect of her presence ; 
 she only knew that she was tightening 
 between herselfand Sonnenkamp the bonds 
 from which she would gladly be free, and, 
 whenever she returned to the carriage, she 
 begged him not to say so much about her 
 motherly care of Roland. Sonnenkamp, 
 who was looked upon as of quite secondary 
 importance by the persons visited, skilfully 
 contrived to make himself the central point 
 of the conversation by praising the Profes- 
 sorin's nobleness of spirit, and enlarging 
 upon his own great happiness in being 
 allowed connection with such a family. 
 
 On th^s excursion Sonnenkamp tasted the 
 best pleasure of which he was capable ; for 
 his highest pleasure was in hypocrisy, and 
 in the luxury of its exercise, he forgot his 
 deep-rooted indignation at the pride of the 
 resident families, who were now obliged 
 to receive him as an equal. Where he 
 hitherto had been permitted only a few | 
 hasty and unmeaning words, he was now j 
 allowed comfortably to display his manifold 
 experiences, around all of which a softening 
 halo was cast by the genuine sentiment that 
 served as their setting, the sentiment of 
 
 fatherly affection. His manner, also, of 
 confessing that he had not always thought 
 as favorably as he should of human nature, 
 but had been taught by the Dournays to 
 honor true nobility of mind, won for him 
 the reluctant interest of all. He laughed 
 to himself, as he went down the steps, at 
 the thought of persons saying, as he knew 
 they would, "We really never knew the 
 man before ; he has a vast deal of character 
 and great sensibility." 
 
 He treated with especial consideration 
 the members of the committee upon orders, 
 knowing himself, and having had particu- 
 larly enjoined upon him by Pranken, the 
 importance of gaining them over to his 
 plan. 
 
 Thus had Roland's illness given a fresh 
 impulse to the nobility project ; and the 
 Professorin had, against her will, co-operated 
 to the same end. 
 
 Sonnenkamp could not do enough to 
 testify his respect for the lady who, after 
 all, had gained him his greatest tri- 
 umph. In spite of her refusal to come to 
 his fete, and help in furthering his plan, she 
 had now become his tool. He never grew 
 tired of rejoicing in the conviction that all 
 mankind could be used like puppets ; some 
 were to be bought by the ringing of gold, 
 and some by the ringing of their own 
 praises. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DECORATION WITH THREE EXCLAMATION 
 MARKS. 
 
 An audience had been requested of the 
 Princess, that the Sonnenkamp family might 
 present their thanks. The answer returned 
 was that the Frau Professorin would be 
 welcome, thus refusing to admit Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 He next desired that Roland should write 
 a letter of thanks to the Princess for the 
 Professorin to hand to her, but several 
 rough drafts, which his son wrote out, he 
 so roughly discarded, that the poor boy was 
 thrown into a state of feverish excitement 
 which threatened to bring on a relapse. 
 He was quieted by the interposition of the 
 Professorin, who promised to deliver by 
 word of mouth all that he had to say ; but 
 this sceme put a violent end to the childlike 
 affectionateness which had sprung up in 
 him since his illness. 
 
 While the Professorin was at the palace, 
 Sonnenkamp promenaded the palace garden, 
 where he could keep in sight the carriage 
 and servants, determined to hear at once 
 what should be said of him there. This 
 was the most painful experience that the 
 
THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 313 
 
 Professorin had yet had to undergo. She 
 was obliged to acquiesce in the Princess 1 
 praises of Sonnenkarap's generous nature, 
 nis extensive charities, and his noble mag- 
 nanimity, of which the Cabinetsrathin, 
 lady of honor to the queen, had given a 
 full report, and nothing was left the Profes- 
 sorin but to listen, without the power to 
 speak a word of contradiction. It was a 
 fresh proof to her of the false position in 
 which she was placed, and the dishonest 
 game to which she had been made to lend 
 a hand ; first in the convent, and now at 
 court. Yet she dared not raise her voice 
 against this noble reputation of Sonnen- 
 karap's, for in what light would she herself 
 appear if she should confess what she 
 knew ? 
 
 When she was re-entering the carriage, 
 after her audience from the Princess, a 
 voice which cried " Stop !" made her trem- 
 ble from head to foot. Sonnenkamp seated 
 himself beside her, and required her to tell 
 him instantly what the Princess had said. 
 His delight at her report made him so far 
 forget himself as to exclaim aloud, — 
 
 " Roland's illness has been a blessing to 
 us all, — by giving us the right to call the 
 Frau Professorin our friend," he quickly 
 added, by way of correction. Even that 
 she had to accept in silence, and was fur- 
 ther distressed by being obliged to repeat 
 the Princess' words for the benefit of 
 Pranken, who, with Clodwig, now joined 
 them. 
 
 She felt herself hemmed in on every 
 side, and excusing herself early, she with- 
 drew, in the hope of finding again in soli- 
 tude her true self. 
 
 Clodwig had come, as member of the Com- 
 mittee upon Orders, to announce confiden- 
 tially to Sonnenkamp that an order had 
 been decreed him. Pranken embraced him 
 when they were again alone together, ex- 
 claiming, — 
 
 "That is the first step, the first sure step." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was greatly delighted, and 
 begged Pranken to wait while he hurried to 
 carry the good news to Frau Ceres. 
 
 " So that is for you," she said, complain- 
 ingly ; 44 what is there for me ? " 
 
 He assured her that the title of nobility 
 would certainly follow speedily. 
 
 "Oh, but it takes so long," she com- 
 plained. 
 
 He confessed to some disappointment and 
 vexation on his own part at the slowness 
 and formality with which everything in the 
 Old World was conducted, but recommended 
 patience. 
 
 "It is a good thing, to be sure," replied 
 
 Frau Ceres, "that you should have an 
 order ; every one in society will see now at 
 once that you are not a servant." 
 
 Sonnenkamp smilingly shook his head, 
 but avoided any long discussions with Frau 
 Ceres. 
 
 A few days afterwards, carriage after car- 
 riage drew up before the door of the hotel, 
 bringing congratulations. Sonnenkamp af- 
 fected great modesty, but Roland did not 
 dis%uise his pleasure and pride, and insisted 
 that his father should never go out without 
 his new decoration. 
 
 The following sentence, however, in Pro- 
 fessor Crutius's paper added bitterness to 
 their cup of joy : — 
 
 " (Market price of Honors). Herr Son- 
 nenkamp, of Villa Eden, transplanted from 
 Havana, has received, from the highest 
 quarter, the cross of honor for his services, 
 it is said, in the ennobling of horticulture, 
 which includes the ennobling of the horti- 
 culturist. Nothing now is wanting in the 
 garden of Eden but that genealogical tree, 
 which flourishes so excellently in our favored 
 land." 
 
 There were malicious persons enough 
 ready to express to Sonnenkamp their in- 
 dignation at this would-be witty sharpness, 
 while they watched him with curiosity to see 
 what face he would put upon the matter. 
 He appeared quite indifferent, but inwardly 
 resolved to buy over that most virtuous of 
 moralists, called Public Opinion. 
 
 He went to the publishing office, was 
 shown into the editor's room, and was re- 
 ceived with the utmost politeness by Pro- 
 fessor Crutius. He opened the conversa- 
 tion by saying that he knew very well how 
 to take a joke, and that Jbis life in America 
 had familiarized him with publicity ; which 
 remarks Crutius saw no occasion for an- 
 swering. With great condescension, Son- 
 nenkamp proceeded to express his pleasure 
 at finding the Professor in such an influen- 
 tial position ; Crutius bowed his acknowl- 
 edgments. A little gas jet was burning in 
 the editor's room, at which Sonnenkamp 
 asked permission to light his cigar, offering 
 one at the same time to Crutius, who ac- 
 cepted with thanks. 
 
 "I remember," began Sonnenkamp, "a 
 bold and striking remark which you made 
 on the occasion of my having the honor of 
 receiving a visit from you; you had the 
 courage to say that America was approach- 
 ing a monarchical form of government." 
 
 " I remember saying so," replied Crutius, 
 " half in jest and half in earnest, and I 
 threw out the remark not merely as starting 
 a good subject of conversation, but because 
 
314 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 I was of opinion that the reluctance of the 
 best men in America to take part in politics 
 was a sign of approaching monarchy." 
 
 " And you are no longer of that opinion ? 11 
 asked Sonnenkamp, as Crutius paused. 
 
 He knew that he was reported to be in 
 league with the party who were aiming to 
 form an empire in Mexico, and thence to 
 extend the monarchical form of government 
 over the New W orld. It was a harmless^ in 
 some respects, an honorable reputation to 
 have, that of being an agent for establishing 
 a monarchy in the Southern States of the 
 Union. Crutius sat for some time in silence, 
 eyeing the figure before him with a keen 
 and smiling glance. At last he said : — 
 
 " I am no longer of that opinion. The 
 indifference of the better classes in America 
 has ceased, as is evident from the papers as 
 well as from the public meetings. I have 
 also seen some letters written to Herr Weid- 
 mann by his nephew Dr. Fritz, which plainly 
 prove that a change for the better has taken 
 place. All feel again their rights as citizens, 
 and political and party strife is everywhere 
 uppermost." 
 
 "Ah, Herr Weidmann," said Sonnen- 
 kamp ; "lam told that that worthy gentle- 
 man has a share in your paper." 
 
 "I know no man; I know nothing but 
 party." 
 
 " The true American principle. That is 
 good ! " exclaimed Sonnenkamp, and went 
 on to express, in a friendly tone, the regret 
 that all must feel at seeing the press here so 
 far behind the high standard attained in 
 other countries. For that reason he should 
 be very willing, he said, if a man of the 
 Professor's experience would establish a 
 new journal, to come forward to its support 
 with a considerable sum of money, as well 
 as to communicate important items of intelli- 
 gence from his private correspondence. 
 
 M The matter is worth considering," re- 
 plied Crutius. He went to his strong box 
 and opened it, evidently with the intention 
 of returning to Sonnenkamp the money he 
 had formerly received from him, but saying, 
 almost in so many words, to himself : — No, 
 not yet ; you shall have a public receipt for 
 it by and by, — he closed the box, and, re- 
 suming his seat opposite Sonnenkamp, be- 
 gan : — 
 
 " I have an apology to make to you ; at the 
 time I had the honor of visiting you at your 
 villa, I took you to be the notorious Ban- 
 field." 
 
 He carefully watched the expression of 
 his visitor's face as he spoke. 
 
 " Thank you for telling me so," replied 
 Sonnenkamp, very tranquilly. "The only 
 way to clear up such a misunderstanding is 
 
 I to tell it to a man's face. Unfortunately, I 
 j have been often confounded with that man, 
 I and once actually went to Virginia in order 
 i to become personally acquainted with this 
 j double of mine ; but he died just as I ar- 
 rived there." 
 
 " Indeed! I had not heard of his death, 
 and am somewhat surprised that Herr 
 Weidmann's nephew, who was at open war 
 with Banfield, should not have informed me 
 of it. But it is astonishing what a strong 
 resemblance there is between yourself and 
 him. Of course I shall not mention the cir- 
 cumstance in my obituary of Banfield." 
 
 " As far as I myself am concerned," said 
 Sonnenkamp, smiling, "it would make no 
 difference ; but you know the delight which 
 the European aristocracy takes in any 
 American scandal, and such a connection 
 of names might to my wife and children be 
 — well, might be very disagreeable." 
 
 Crutius protested that all personalities 
 were wholly indifferent to him ; he dealt only 
 with principles, a sentiment which Sonnen- 
 kamp entirely approved and considered one 
 of the advantages of European culture. 
 
 Crutius accompanied Herr Sonnenkamp 
 with great politeness, through the outer 
 offices as far as the head of the staircase ; 
 but the air of the room seemed to oppress 
 him when he returned to it, and he threw 
 open the windows. 
 
 "It is he, nevertheless," he said to him- 
 self. "Take care, Knight of the Cross of 
 Honor, I have hold of you by another rib- 
 bon, and am only granting you a little 
 longer time to flutter about me." 
 
 He hunted up the paper that contained 
 the notice, made a broad red mark and 
 three exclamation marks on the margin, and 
 laid the sheet by in a special compartment 
 labelled, " For future use." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A NEW LIFE IN EVERYTHING. / 
 
 The Prince must have forgotten that he 
 had meant to send for Sonnenkamp, who 
 now found himself deprived of all opportu- 
 nity of expressing his thanks in person to 
 him or to his brother, by their departure, in 
 company with many nobles of the court, 
 and Pranken among them, for a royal 
 hunting-seat where the great Spring hunts 
 were to be held. Pranken had left the cap- 
 ital in great ill-humor at Herr Sonnenkamp's 
 having been guilty of the impropriety of 
 entering into any relations with the editor 
 of a newspaper. 
 
 All was quiet in the Hotel Victoria. 
 Eric's mother and aunt had already re- 
 turned to the green cottage, and Roland 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 315 
 
 begged and entreated every day that the 
 whole family might break up their estab- 
 lishment in the Capital. At last his wish was 
 granted, and Sonnenkamp favored his house, 
 his servants, the park and the hot-houses, 
 with a sight of the glory of his button-hole. 
 This decoration he brought back, and could 
 always preserve as a happy memento of that 
 winter of pleasure and of pain. Roland 
 never grew weary of greeting the familiar 
 objects with fresh delight. A feeling and 
 love of home seemed to be roused in him, 
 for the first time, in its full intensity. 
 
 " I see now, 11 he said to Eric, " that this 
 living in hotels and anywhere else than in 
 one's own house is like living on a railway. 
 I can go to sleep, but I hear all the time 
 the rattle of wheels in my dreams. That is 
 the way when we are abroad, but now we 
 are at home again, and I have a grand- 
 mother near by to visit, and an aunt, and the 
 Major is a kind of uncle, and Claus is like a 
 faithful old tower. The dogs too are glad 
 to have me at home again. Nora looked 
 at me a little strange at first, but soon rec- 
 ognized me, and her pups are splendid. 
 Now we will be busy and merry again. It 
 would be nice to plant a tree to remember 
 this day by. and have you plant one near it, 
 don 1 t you think so ? Don't you feel as I do, 
 that you have just come into the world, and 
 that all that has happened before was only a 
 dream ? If I could only erect something 
 that should always be saying to me : Re- 
 member how happy you once were, and 
 how happy you are, and let nothing further 
 trouble you in the world. Oh, how beauti- 
 ful it is here ! The Rhine is broader than I 
 remembered it, and the mountains look 
 down so upon me ! I think I saw them in 
 my fever, but not so beautiful as they are 
 now. It seems as if I could compel the 
 vineyards to grow green at once. 11 
 
 As he was walking with Eric along the 
 river bank, he suddenly stood still and 
 said, — 
 
 "Hark, how the waves plash against the 
 shore ! Just so have they rippled and 
 plashed day and night when I was not here. 
 Would it not be beautiful to plunge into the 
 waves and swim? Does not the rippling 
 tempt you too ? It seems to me we did it 
 centuries ago." 
 
 The boy had awaked to new life, and 
 thoughts and feelings came bubbling cease- 
 lessly from his heart, as from an ever running 
 fountain. He delighted in having the peo- 
 ple he met tell him how tall he had grown, 
 and how like a man he was looking. 
 
 Eric listened patiently to all his out- 
 pourings ; the boy was tasting the double 
 
 pleasure of returning health and the open- 
 ing spring. 
 
 "The hen cackles for herself and the 
 cock," he exclaimed, the first time he heard 
 a hen ; " and I am sure it is as beautiful a 
 sound to them, as the song of the nightin- 
 gale is to us. Don^ you think our barn- 
 yard hen makes a great deal more noise over 
 the laying of an egg than her wild sisters ? 
 No female of all the wild birds of the forest 
 sings ; the hen is the only one. Do loojs at 
 the grass ; how beautifully green it is, and the 
 hedgerows there ! The green leaves and 
 buds would like to pop out all of a sudden 
 and cry, Here we are ! " 
 
 So he chattered on, like a grateful child. 
 
 Only a little at a time could the studies 
 be resumed. Eric observed a certain de- 
 pression in his mother, which might be the 
 result of her anxiety for Roland, whose 
 illness naturally recalled to her that of her 
 own son, or of her constant care for the 
 poor in the neighborhood, whose calls for 
 help were increasing as their winter stores 
 were getting exhausted. Roland was de- 
 sirous of sharing these cares with her, and 
 of being allowed to take some of the gifts 
 himself; but the mother would not permit 
 it. He was not ready for that yet, she said ; 
 he must first come to be a strong man him- 
 self, able to carry out his own great life- 
 work. 
 
 Roland complained that he did not see the 
 need of so many having to suffer want, when 
 there was enough in the world to satisfy 
 everybody. Eric and his mother had to 
 reason with him, or he would have cursed 
 wealth as a misfortune and an injustice. 
 But the elasticity of youth came to their aid, 
 and the boy soon forgot how much misery 
 there was in the world, and contented him- 
 self with the objects immediately about him. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was very happy, too, for 
 Eric and Roland took an active interest in 
 the cultivation of the trees, and he could be 
 their teacher. 
 
 " You will experience, as I have," he 
 often said, "that the greatest pleasure in 
 the world, is to watch the growth of a tree 
 of your own planting." 
 
 The buds were swelling in the garden, 
 while across the river, and over the fields, 
 floated an aromatic breath of spring, a fra- 
 grance as if the air had blown over vast, in- 
 visible beds of violets. Within the house 
 was a cheerfulness that had never been 
 known there before. Even Frau Ceres 
 could not escape its influence, for Roland 
 shed about him a constant atmosphere of 
 joy, that infected all who came in contact 
 with him. He had, moreover, now, as he 
 
316 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 confided to the Professorin, a project in his 
 head, of which he would not betray, even to 
 her, the exact nature. On the anniversary 
 •of his birthday, which was also that of 
 Eric's arrival, he meant to prepare for 
 everybody such a joyful surprise as they 
 never would guess. 
 
 The grass and the blossoms had come 
 forth in the garden, the birds were singing, 
 and the boats sailing merrily up and down 
 the river, when, on the day preceding Ro- 
 land's birthday, a note was found in his 
 room, saying that the family must not be 
 uneasy about him, for he would return the 
 next day, bringing something most beauti- 
 ful with him. 
 
 Upon inquiry, it appeared that Roland had 
 set off with Lootz for the convent. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 ORESTES AND IPHIGENIA. 
 
 Two steamers, one bound for the valley, 
 the other for the mountains, were standing 
 in the stream at a little distance from the 
 island. In the one bound for the valley 
 was Roland. In answer to his impatient 
 question why they did not land, the captain 
 silently pointed to the island, where a pro- 
 cession of priests and nuns were following a 
 bier covered with flowers, and borne by 
 girls dressed in white. The voices of chil- 
 dren, as they sang, rose on the clear Spring 
 air. Roland's heart trembled ; what if his 
 sister ? 
 
 " It must be a little child," said an elder- 
 ly man standing near him ; " the bier is so 
 small ; those young girls could not carry it 
 otherwise. 11 
 
 Roland breathed^ more freely ; he knew 
 his sister must be among the mourners. 
 
 He had landed, and was standing on the 
 bank beside the boatman, who was to row 
 him over to the island. The man shook his 
 head and said softly : — 
 
 " Not yet, not yet ; but perhaps you are 
 a relation of the child ? " 
 
 "What child? 11 
 
 " A little child has died in the convent ; 
 oh, such a beautiful child ! it made one hap- 
 py only to look at her. The Lord God will 
 have to make but little change to turn her 
 into an angel." 
 
 " How old was she ? 11 
 
 *' Seven, or eight at the most. Hark, 
 there they come ! " 
 
 The bells rang out into the Spring air, 
 the smoke of the incense ascended, as the 
 procession moved along the shore. 
 
 The boatman took off his hat, and prayed 
 with folded hands. Roland, too, stood with 
 uncovered head, and with a sudden shock 
 
 he thought : Thus might I have been borne 
 to the grave. Such a weakness came over 
 him that he was obliged to sit down ; he 
 kept his eyes fixed upon the island ; the 
 procession went on, then disappeared, and 
 all was still. 
 
 Now they were sinking the young body in 
 the ground ; the birds sang, no breath of 
 air stirred, a steamboat came towards the 
 mountain ; all was like the figures in a 
 dream. 
 
 The procession came in sight again, sing- 
 ing, and vanished through the open doors 
 of the convent. 
 
 "So," said the boatman, putting on his 
 hat, " now I will row you across." 
 
 But Roland, unwilling to surprise his sis- 
 ter before she had had time to rest and 
 "compose herself, asked to be allowed to re- 
 main a while longer on the shore. It was 
 well he did, for no one in the convent so 
 felt a part of her very self taken from 
 her, as Manna. Dear little Heimchen had 
 held out for a whole year, seeming to grow 
 more cheerful, and making good progress 
 in her studies, but in the Spring she faded, 
 like a tenderly nurtured flower too early ex- 
 posed to the cold. 
 
 Devotedly, day and night, Manna nursed 
 the child, who with her was always happy. 
 A foretaste of heaven seemed granted little 
 Heimchen ; she looked forward to it as to a 
 Christmas holiday, and often said to Man- 
 na that she should tell God, and all the 
 angels in heaven, about her. The next mo- 
 ment she would beg Manna to tell her 
 about Roland. 
 
 " I saw him running with his bow and ar- 
 rows, and oh, he was so beautiful ! 11 
 
 Then Manna told about Roland, and 
 could always make Heimchen laugh by de- 
 scribing how his little pups tumbled one 
 another over and over. The physician, and 
 the hospital nun, who was almost a doctor 
 herself, urged Manna to take more rest, but 
 she was strong, and never left her post. In 
 Manna^ arms the child died, and her last 
 words wer^ : — 
 
 " Good-morning, Manna, it is no longer 
 night now." 
 
 Manna^ experience had been manifold. 
 She had seen a novice assume the dress of 
 the order, and had seen a fellow pupil enter 
 her novitiate ; yet was it all only a strong, 
 free, joyful self-sacrifice. Now she had 
 witnessed the death of a child, a little hu- 
 man being, dropping softly and silently 
 from the tree of life, as a blossom falls from 
 the stem. 
 
 It was Manna who, at the lower end of 
 the bier, had helped to bear the child to the 
 grave, and thrown three handfuls of earth 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 317 
 
 upon the coffin. She did not shed a tear 
 until the priest described how the child had 
 been called from the earth, as a father 
 might summon his child from a play-ground 
 where it was in danger, and keep it safe in 
 his home ; then she wept bitterly. 
 
 On leaving the cemetery, she went once 
 more to Heiinchen's empty bed, and there 
 prayed God that she might enter into eter- 
 nity as pure as that little child. Then she 
 grew composed, feeling the time could not 
 be far distant when, after a short return to 
 the excitement of the world, the great Fath- 
 er of all would summon her away from this 
 play-ground into -his sheltering mansions. 
 She seemed already to hear voices from the 
 noisy world without, calling her once more 
 to return to it. She must obey them, but 
 made a firm resolve faithfully to return into 
 this, her one, only home. 
 
 She descended to the island, and took her 
 seat under the pine-tree where she had so 
 often worked. There was the little bench 
 on which Heimchen had sat close by her 
 side, almost at her feet. Manna sat here 
 long, trying to imagine the distractions 
 which life could bring to her in this one 
 year, but she did not succeed. Her thoughts 
 would return to Heimchen, and she found 
 herself trying, to follow the young soul into 
 the eternity of Heaven. 
 
 Suddenly she heard steps, and looking up 
 saw before her a youth who was like Ro- 
 land, only much taller, and more manly. 
 She could not stir from her seat. 
 
 "Manna, Manna, come to me!" cried 
 the boy. 
 
 She rose, and with aloud cry, brother and 
 sister fell into one another's arms. 
 
 " Sit down by me," said Manna at last. 
 They sat together upon.the bench beneath the 
 pine-tree, and Manna, pointing to the smal- 
 ler bench, told of Heimchen, and of her often 
 wanting to hear stories about Roland, and 
 when she came to tell how the child had 
 died of homesickness, she suddenly ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 "Our whole life, Roland, is nothing but 
 homesickness for our heavenly home ; of 
 that we die, and happy is he who dies of it." 
 
 Roland perceived that his sister was in a 
 state of overwrought excitement, amounting 
 almost to ecstasy ; and speaking in a tone 
 of quiet and manly decision, he told her that 
 she must first come back to her earthly 
 home. He told her of his having acted in a 
 play, and having been photographed in his 
 page's silk dress ; of the order his father 
 had received ; and, finally, of a secret his 
 father had confided to him, and which he 
 could not tell. 
 
 "Our father told you a secret?" asked 
 Manna, her face growing rigid. 
 
 "Yes, and a beautiful, noble one; you 
 will rejoice with me when you hear it." 
 
 Manna's features relaxed. 
 
 Roland told her how he had fancied him- 
 self with her all through his delirium, and 
 that she ought to feel only happy at his be- 
 ing still alive. 
 
 " Yes, you are still alive," cried Manna, 
 " you shall live. All is yours." 
 
 He reminded her that to-morrow was his 
 birthday, and that his own wish was that 
 she would let him take her to their parents 
 on that day. 
 
 " Yes, I will go with you," cried Manna, 
 " and it is better we should go directly." 
 
 Hand in hand, the brother'and sister went 
 to the convent, where Manna told the Su- 
 perior of her intention to go home with Ro- 
 land. In a state of feverish excitement, 
 she then hurried to bid good-bye to all 
 her fellow pupils, and all the nuns, went 
 into the church and prayed, and finally 
 made Roland go with her to Heimchen's 
 grave. 
 
 Roland observed a long, straight row of 
 gravestones without inscriptions, and, on 
 asking Manna about them, was told they 
 marked the graves of the nuns. 
 
 "That is hard," said Roland, "to have 
 to be nameless after death." 
 
 "It is but natural," returned Manna; 
 " whoever takes the veil lays aside her fam- 
 ily name and assumes a sacred one, which 
 is hers until her death, and then another 
 bears it." 
 
 " I understand." said Roland. " That is 
 giving up a great deal. The name of the 
 nun cannot be written on the gravestone, 
 nor the family name either ; yet there must 
 be a great many of noble family buried 
 here." 
 
 " Yes, indeed; almost all were noble." 
 
 " What should you say if we should be 
 noble too ? " 
 
 "Roland, what do you mean?" cried 
 Manna, seizing him violently by the arm. 
 " Can you speak of such a thing here and 
 now ? Come away ; such thoughts are a 
 desecration. to the graves." 
 
 She led him out of the little burial-place, 
 and as far as the gravel path, when, sud- 
 denly leaving, him she turned once more to 
 the cemetery and knelt down by the grave ; 
 then she rejoined her brother. 
 
 Lootz was standing with the luggage 
 ready ; Manna stepped into the boat with 
 Roland, and the brother and sister were 
 .borne up the stream toward their home. All 
 in the boat gazed with a pleased curiosity at 
 
318 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 the pair, who, however, sat quietly hand in 
 hand, looking out upon the broad land- 
 scape. 
 
 "Tell me," urged Roland, "why you 
 said, when you were going to that convent, 
 that you, too, were an Iphigenia? 11 
 
 " I cannot tell you. 1 ' 
 
 " Oh yes, you can ; I know all about her. 
 I have read the Iphigenia of Euripides, and 
 of Goethe, too, by myself and with Eric, 
 and you are like neither of them." 
 
 "It was only ah, let us forget all 
 
 about it." 
 
 "Do you know," cried Roland, "that 
 Iphigenia became .the wife of the great hero 
 Achilles and lived with him, on the island 
 of Leuce, in eternal blessedness ? " 
 
 Manna confessed her ignorance, and Ro- 
 land described the copy of the Pompeian 
 fresco that Eric's mother had showed him, 
 where Calchas, the priest, is holding the 
 knife, Diomedes and Odysseus are bearing 
 Iphigenia to the altar, and, her father, Aga- 
 mennon, hides his face, while, at the com- 
 mand of Artemis, one of the nymphs leads 
 in the stag that is to be sacrificed in Iphi- 
 genia's place. 
 
 " How many things you have learned," 
 smiled Manna. 
 
 " And Eric told me," continued Roland, 
 " that the sacrifice of Iphigenia was just like 
 that of Isaac, and all the other sacrifices we 
 read about." 
 
 Manna's face darkened ; that was the 
 foundation of a fatal heresy. 
 
 " Stop, now I have it," cried Roland. 
 " Ah, that is good ! There are still oracles 
 in the world. Orestes had to fetch his sis- 
 ter from the temple of Tauris, where she 
 was priestess. That is it! You divined 
 it ! That will delight Eric ; ah ! how it will 
 delight him ! But stay ! When Iphigenia 
 and her brother were on board ship I am 
 sure he must have played off all sorts of 
 silly tricks to amuse her, and I am sure she 
 laughed. Have you quite forgotten how to 
 laugh ? You used to laugh so merrily, just 
 like a wood-pigeon. Do laugh just once." 
 
 He laughed with his whole heart, but 
 Manna remained unmoved, and, during the 
 way, sat buried in her own thoughts. Only 
 once, when the boat came to a sudden stop 
 in the middle of the stream, she asked : — 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " That is the very question I asked Eric 
 when we were going up the river together, 
 and he showed me up there a heavily-laden 
 freight vessel, which would be overturned 
 and sunk by the commotion of the water, 
 if our steamer did not moderate its speed.. 
 Oh, there is nothing he does not know, and 
 then he said : Remember, Roland, that we 
 
 should do the same thing in life ; we must not 
 rush on our own way, but must think of the 
 heavily-laden voyagers on the stream of life 
 with us, and take care that the waves we 
 raise do not overwhelm them." 
 
 Manna stared at her brother. She could 
 trace the influence of a man who used the 
 actual as a symbol of the ideal, and she be- 
 came herself, in a measure, conscious of 
 that power which in every outward aspect 
 of life seeks and finds the underlying 
 thought. She shook her head, and opening 
 her breviary, began diligently to read it. 
 
 " See the sunlight on the glass cupola," 
 cried Roland, as it grew late in the after- 
 noon. " That is home. Perhaps they have 
 guessed at home that you are coming back 
 with me.' 1 
 
 "Home, home," breathed Manna softly 
 to herself ; the word sounded strange to her 
 on her own lips, as it had done from Ro- 
 land's. She closed her eyes, as if dazzled 
 by the reflection on the glass cupola. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 NOTHING BUT EYES. 
 
 Two carriages were waiting at the land- 
 ing. Manna received the embraces and 
 kisses of her father without returning them, 
 and watched, in apparent terror, the reced- 
 ing steamer, which, after quickly landing 
 its passengers, went swiftly on its way. 
 
 " Your mother is in the carriage," said 
 Sonnenkamp, offering Manna his arm. She 
 laid her hand timidly upon it, allowed her- 
 self to be led to the glass carriage, in which 
 sat Frau Ceres and Fräulein Perini, and, 
 taking her seat beside her mother, embraced 
 her passionately. 
 
 Sonnenkamp and Roland entered the 
 other carriage, and all drove toward the 
 villa. The father muttered something to 
 himself about not having heard the sound 
 of his daughter's voice. 
 
 " Where is Eric ? " asked Roland. 
 
 ' ' In the green cottage with his mother. It 
 was considerate on the part of a stranger to 
 retire to his own relations at such a time, 
 and leave the family alone." 
 
 Roland was struck by the words. Were 
 Eric and his family strangers ? 
 
 On arriving at the villa, Fräulein Perini 
 also withdrew hastily, and went to the 
 Priest's house, whence a messenger was 
 soon despatched to the telegraph station. 
 
 The parents were alone with their chil- 
 dren, but there seemed a chill in the room 
 which banished all feeling of quiet and com- 
 fort. 
 
 Sopnenkamp and Roland took Manna to 
 her room, where she was pleased to find 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 319 
 
 everything in its old place, and, at sight of 
 the open fire-place filled with beautiful 
 growing plants, turned to her father and 
 thanked him, offering him her hand for the 
 first time, and kissing his ; but she could 
 not repress a shudder at touching the ring 
 on his thumb. 
 
 When Roland was left alone with his sis- 
 ter, he urged her to visit his grandmother 
 and aunt that very day ; but Manna re- 
 proved him for giving such names to per- 
 sons not really related to him. 
 
 " Ah, but you must love them too," said 
 Roland. 
 
 "Must? One can love nobody upon 
 compulsion. Let me tell you, Roland — 
 but no ; there is no need." 
 
 She yielded at last to his persuasions, 
 and went with him through the new gate- 
 way in the garden wall, along the meadows 
 by the shore. 
 
 " There goes Eric ; I will call him. Eric ! 
 Eric ! " cried Roland in a loud voice. 
 
 The figure did not turn, however, but 
 kept on, and presently disappeared among 
 the shrubbery. 
 
 Roland and Manna found the Professorin 
 waiting for them upon the steps, and Man- 
 na received a hearty welcome. 
 
 " He gave me no peace till I consented 
 to come to you," said Manna. 
 
 " So he makes you mind like the rest of 
 us, does he ? " said the lady with mock se- 
 verity. "Let me tell you, my dear child, 
 that I know this wild boy has said a great 
 deal to you about me, and would like to 
 force you to love me ; but even the best in- 
 tentioned urgency in such matters should 
 be avoided. Glad as I shall be if we can 
 be good friends, we yet will not be forced 
 upon each other." 
 
 Manna looked in amazement on the 
 Mother, who asked a great many questions 
 about the convent, and advised her to re- 
 main much alone, as the sudden change 
 from a life of seclusion to one of excitement 
 might injure her habits of thought, as well 
 as her health. 
 
 Manna felt herself cheered by intercourse 
 with this quiet, composed, harmonious na- 
 ture ; only the room looked strange to her 
 with no images of saints about. Her atten- 
 tion was attracted by 'the sewing-machine, 
 and the Mother had readily consented to 
 instruct her in the use of it when Aunt 
 Claudine entered, whose dignified bearing 
 interested Manna even more than the Mo- 
 ther had done. 
 
 "You and Aunt Claudine," exclaimed 
 Roland, " have two things in common. 
 She is a star gazer like you, and plays the 
 harp as you do." 
 
 Aunt Claudine did not require much urg- 
 ing, but willingly played Manna a piece on 
 the harp. 
 
 " I shall be very grateful if you will ac- 
 cept me as a pupil," said Manna offering 
 her hand ; and the beautiful nervous hand 
 which grasped hers gave her more pleasure 
 by its touch, than she had found in the soft 
 little plump one of the Professorin. 
 
 When it grew evening, the Mother and 
 Aunt set out with Roland and Manna 
 towards the villa, Manna walking with the 
 Aunt, and Roland with the Professorin. 
 On the way Eric met them. 
 
 " At last ! " cried Roland. "Now, Man- 
 na, here he is ; here you have him." 
 
 Manna and Eric exchanged formal bows. 
 
 "Why don't you speak? Have you 
 both lost your tongue ? Eric, this is my 
 sister Manna ; Manna, this is my friend, my 
 brother, my Eric." 
 
 " Don't be excited, Roland," said Eric, 
 and there was a ringing tone in his voice 
 that made Manna involuntarily raise her 
 eyes to him. "Yes, Fraulein, this is the 
 second time I have met you in the twi- 
 light." 
 
 Manna almost began to say that she had 
 seen him once in broad daylight, when she 
 had not spoken to him, but had heard in- 
 spiring notes from him ; but she checked 
 herself and pressed her lips together. . Ro- 
 land broke the pause that ensued, by saying 
 urgently : — | 
 
 " Come into the house ; then you will see 
 one another by lamplight. It is just a year 
 ago, this hour, since I ran away ; can it be 
 only a year? Ah, Manna, you cannot im- 
 agine how many hundred years I have lived 
 through in this one. I am as old as the, 
 hills, as old as that laughing sprite the groom 
 told me about." 
 
 He repeated the story to his two willing 
 listeners. When he had ended, Eric an- 
 nounced his intention of staying till the next 
 day with his mother, for every one who was 
 not a blood relation was a stranger at such 
 a time as this. Roland would hear nothing 
 of his being a stranger, but Manna's eyes 
 as they gleamed in the darkness seemed to 
 grow larger. 
 
 At the new gateway the party divided, 
 Roland and his sister going to the villa, and 
 Eric returning to the green cottage with his 
 mother and aunt. For the second time he 
 had seen Manna, and for the second time 
 she had seemed nothing but eyes. 
 
 How strange that this man should look 
 like the picture of Saint Anthony, thought 
 Manna, when she was alone in her room ; 
 there seemed to me no point of resemblance 
 between them ; some passing look of his, 
 
320 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 an expression of his eyes, must have re- 
 minded Roland of the picture • she too had 
 seen nothing of Erie but his tall figure and 
 his eyes. 
 
 She knelt long in prayer, and as she took 
 off her clothes afterwards, she drew more 
 tightly round her waist a girdle — only a 
 little cord it was, which one of the nuns had 
 given her — so tightly that it cut into her 
 flesh. 
 
 f CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A MORNING GIFT. 
 
 Before daylight Roland was at Eric's 
 bedside, and waked him, saying : — 
 
 " I will go with you to-day. 1 ' 
 
 Eric could not think what the boy meant, 
 till he reminded him of his having said that 
 he ought, at least once every year, to go up 
 on some hill and see the sun rise. Eric re- 
 membered saying so, and, hastily putting 
 on his clothes, they walked together up a 
 neighboring eminence. A year ago that 
 morning, Roland said he had for the first 
 time seen the sun rise ; then he was alone, 
 now with a friend. 
 
 " Let us keep silent," advised Eric. They 
 looked towards the east, and saw the light 
 gradually appear. A new light dawned in 
 Roland's mind ; he saw that all the splen- 
 dor and glory of the world is nothing, com- 
 pared with the light which belongs alike to 
 all. The richest can make for himself 
 nothing higher than the sunlight, which 
 shines for the poorest in his hovel ; the fair- 
 est and the highest belongs to all mankind. 
 
 Roland fell into a sort of ecstasy, and 
 Eric with difficulty refrained from pressing 
 .him to his heart. He was happy, for the 
 sun had risen in Roland, ' the sun of thought 
 which can never set ; clouds may obscure 
 it, but it stands and shines for ever. 
 
 The two descended to the river, and bathed 
 joyfully in it under the early light, and to 
 each the water was as a new baptism. The 
 bells were ringing as they returned to the 
 villa, and in the distance they saw Manna 
 going to church. 
 
 Herr Sonnenkamp also had risen early, 
 and paid a morning visit to the Professorin. 
 
 " I have followed your good advice," he 
 said, " and made Roland no present to-day. 
 Your account of the way in which royal 
 children keep their birthday was charming ; 
 they are not to receive, but to give. I have 
 followed your suggestions in every particu- 
 lar, and given Roland nothing but the means 
 and opportunity of bestowing upon others ; 
 I owe you double thanks for allowing me to 
 take the entire credit of the idea. Any ap- 
 proach to untruthfulness is distasteful to 
 
 me, but for my son's sake, I venture to 
 practice a little deception to-day." 
 
 The lady pressed her lips together. 
 Here was this man, whose whole life was a 
 lie, trying to pass himself off for a man of 
 truth ! But she had already taught herself 
 not to be always inquiring too closely into 
 the motives of good deeds. She asked 
 about the presents that Roland was to dis- 
 tribute, and finally yielded to Sonnenkamp's 
 desire that she should accompany him to 
 the villa. 
 
 As they approached the door, a carriage 
 drove up from which jumped Pranken. He 
 had come, he said, because it was Roland's 
 birthday, and expressed great pleasure at 
 hearing that Manna also had arrived : Fräu- 
 lein Perini's telegram he thought it needless 
 to mention. As he stood upon the terrace 
 overlooking the Rhine, he saw Manna walk- 
 ing up and down the terrace with a little 
 book in her hand, and could perceive the 
 motion of her lips as she repeated the words 
 from it. 
 
 Fräulein Perini soon appeared, and ex- 
 changed a few whispered words, with Pran- 
 ken. Great was her pride at having frus- 
 trated the cunningly woven plans of this 
 Professor's family, which so plumed itself 
 on its lofty sense of honor. There was no 
 doubt in her mind that the idea of bringing 
 Manna from the convent had originated 
 with Eric, and she saw further evidence of 
 his plotting, in the girl's having been taken 
 to the green cottage on the very evening of 
 her arrival, and returning delighted with the 
 whole family, especially with Aunt Claudine. 
 With a knowing look at Pranken, Fräulein 
 Perini slyly remarked that the Aunt was 
 kept as a reserve to be brought to bear 
 upon Manna, but she hoped that Pranken 
 and herself would be able to hold the field. 
 
 At last Manna herself came upon the ter- 
 race, and again offered her left hand to 
 Pranken, as in the right she held her prayer- 
 book. She thanked him cordially for his 
 congratulations that this beautiful spring 
 morning found no blossom wanting on the 
 family tree, and, as he undertook to read 
 what was in her mind, and interpret her 
 feelings at finding herself once more under 
 her father's roof, she said quietly : — 
 
 " It is a tent which is spread and folded 
 again." 
 
 With great tact Pranken seized upon the 
 expression ; he was sufficiently familiar with 
 the ecclesiastical manner of speaking, to be 
 able to construct the whole contingent of 
 meditation and reflection, from which this 
 single remark had been thrown like a soli- 
 tary soldier on a reconnoissance. He talked 
 with no little eloquence of our pilgrimage 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 321 
 
 through the desert of life, until we reached 
 the promised land, adding that the old man 
 in us must die, for only the new man was 
 worthy to possess the land of promise. 
 
 There was a certain conversational fluen- 
 cy in Pranken's manner of speaking which 
 at - first repelled Manna, but she seemed 
 pleased, upon the whole, to find this care- 
 fully trained, versatile man at home in this 
 sphere of thought. The fact of his belong- 
 ing to the church, and therefore living 
 among the same ideas with herself, seemed 
 to form a bond of attraction between them. 
 When at length he drew out of his pocket 
 the Thomas a Kempis she had given him, 
 and told her that to that he owed whatever 
 of good was in him, she cast down her eyes, 
 and, laying her hand upon the book, said 
 hurriedly, as she heard the voices of the Pro- 
 fessorin £nd the Major approaching : 4 ' Pray 
 put the book back, away." 
 
 Pranken obeyed, and while his eyes were 
 fixed upon Manna, kept his hand pressed 
 on the book, which lay against his heart. 
 This common secret established a degree 
 of intimacy at once between himself and the 
 pure, reserved girl. 
 
 The Major examined Manna as he would 
 have done a recruit, making her turn round 
 and round, and walk this way and that, that 
 he might judge of her way of moving, all 
 which evolutions Manna went through with 
 great good humor. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said at length, extending 
 the forefinger of his left hand, as he always 
 did when about to bring forth a piece of 
 wisdom ; " yes, yes ; when it works well, it 
 is all right. Yes, yes ; Herr Sonnenkamp, 
 when it works well, it is right, this sending 
 a young man into the army and a young 
 woman into a convent, for a while. When 
 it works well, it is all right." 
 
 All nodded assent, and the Major was 
 enchanted at having begun the day by say- 
 ing a good thing. But he soon changed his 
 tone to one of complaint at Roland's absence ; 
 he did not deserve his happiness, keeping 
 oat of the way on such an anniversary as 
 this, such a beautiful spring dayj too, that if 
 they had ordered it expressly it could not 
 have been finer. He was just about to re- 
 late the fearful adventure in the special 
 train, which took place just a year ago that 
 very day, when Roland and Eric at last ap- 
 peared. 
 
 Manna embraced her brother affection- 
 ately, as did Pranken also, but Roland 
 quickly disengaged himself from the latter' s 
 grasp, and said to Manna : — 
 
 " Shake hands with Herr Eric too, for 
 this is his birthday amongst us. A year 
 
 ago to-day he became mine, or I his ; did 
 you not, Eric ? Give him your hand." 
 
 Manna offered Eric her hand, and for the 
 first time the two looked one another full in 
 the face, in the broad daylight. 
 
 "Thank you for the kindness you have 
 shown my brother," said Manna. 
 
 Eric was much struck by Manna's ap- 
 pearance ; she seemed to him a wonderful 
 mixture ofgentle melancholy and lofty pride ; 
 her features expressed a cold indifference ; 
 her motions were full of grace ; there was a 
 bewitching softness in her voice, but mingled 
 with a tone of sadness. 
 
 Without knowing or wishing it, Manna 
 became the central point of attraction ; even 
 on this fete-day of Roland's, all seemed to 
 turn to her. 
 
 Presently the party adjourned to the great 
 hall, where were Eric's mother and aunt, 
 Fräulein Perini and Frau «Ceres. Frau 
 Ceres had such fear of the morning air that 
 all the windows were tight shut. She was 
 yawning when Roland entered, but em- 
 braced and kissed him. The Professorin 
 also embraced him, saying : — 
 
 " I wish you happiness; that is, I wish 
 for you a constantly growing appreciation 
 of the happiness that has been granted you, 
 and a knowledge how to use it." 
 
 Sonnenkamp shrugged his shoulders at 
 these words, and said to Pranken, by whom 
 he was standing : — 
 
 " How this woman is always trying to say 
 something out of the common course ! She 
 has actually forgotten at last how to say a 
 simple good-morning." 
 
 " Let us be thankful," rejoined Pranken, 
 " that she has not yet remarked, — As my 
 departed husband, Professor Mummy, used 
 to say." 
 
 The two men spoke without any change 
 of expression, so that no one heard or ob- 
 served them. 
 
 Upon a great table lay a number of pack- 
 ages, each inscribed with a name. The 
 Professorin, with Fräulein Milch, had made 
 a list of the boys in the neighborhood of 
 Roland's own age, who were to have pres- 
 ents given them on his birthday. They 
 were mostly apprentices about to set out on 
 their travels, laborers on the Rhine boats, 
 or in the vineyards : some poor and needy 
 persons had also been thought of, and for 
 every one a suitable gift was provided. In 
 the middle of the table lay a large envelope 
 which Sonnenkamp had hastily placed there 
 on his entrance, and on which was written : 
 " For my friend and teacher, Captain Doc- 
 tor Eric Dournay." 
 
 Roland's quick eye soon discovered the 
 
322 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 envelope, and he handed it to Eric, who, on 
 opening it, found a package of banknotes 
 to a considerable amount. His hand trem- 
 bled ; for a moment he looked about him, 
 then replaced the bills in the envelope, and 
 advancing to Sonnenkamp, who was stand- 
 ing by Manna and Pranken, and had just 
 spoken some words in a low tone to the lat- 
 ter, held the envelope towards him, and, in 
 a voice so agitated that he could scarcely 
 enunciate a word, begged him to take back 
 his gift. 
 
 " No, no ; do not thank me ; it is I who 
 should thank you. 11 
 
 Eritfs eyes were cast to the ground, but 
 he raised them and said, — 
 
 "Excuse me, I have never in my life 
 accepted any present, and am unwilling — 11 
 
 "A man of independence like you," in- 
 terrupted Pranken, " should waste no words 
 on the matter* Take the gift as cordially 
 as it was given. 11 
 
 He spoke as one of the family, almost as 
 if he had presented the money himself. 
 Eric stood abashed, not knowing how to 
 refuse the gift without seeming ungrateful 
 and over delicate. As his eyes fell upon 
 Manna, a pang shot through his heart at 
 the thought of having to appear before her, 
 on this first morning, as a needy receiver of 
 money. He looked at her as if imploring 
 her to speak to him, but she kept silent ; 
 seeing no other course open for him, 
 he drew back the hand which held the 
 package, and soon after disappeared from 
 the room. 
 
 Without, in the park, he walked thought- 
 fully to and fro for a while, then, sitting 
 down on the bench where Bella had sat, 
 opened the envelope and counted the 
 money ; it amounted to a sum large enough 
 to support a moderate family. As he sat 
 there dreaming and unconscious, holding 
 the envelope between his two hands, and 
 deaf to the song of the birds in the trees 
 and shrubs about him, his name was sud- 
 denly called, and the servant Joseph 
 handed him a letter from Professor Einsiedel, 
 congratulating him upon the anniversary, 
 and admonishing him to earn money enough 
 to enable him to lead an independent life, 
 wholly devoted to pure science. The Pro- 
 fessor repeated his wish, that there might be 
 some place of retreat established for the 
 reception of men of science in their old age. 
 
 Greatly comforted, Eric returned to the 
 company in the drawing-room, who had 
 scarcely missed him. 
 
 "That is the way with these idealists, 
 these reformers, these priests of humanity, 11 
 said Pranken to Sonnenkamp. " See how 
 the Doctor looks as if he had got wings ! 
 
 Yes, that is the way with them. They de- 
 spise money, till they have it themselves.'" 
 
 Pranken had observed aright. Eric did 
 in truth feel himself endowed with a new 
 power, but also the thought arose in him : 
 Now you too are rich, and can care for others 
 besides yourself. Observing, presently, that 
 he was keeping his hand upon the breast- 
 pocket which contained the money, he drew 
 it away as if it had been upon coals. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A FEAST WITH UNEXPECTED DISHES. 
 
 The Major and Roland set out upon the 
 performance of a most pleasant office. 
 They had the pony harnessed to the little 
 wagon, in which all the packages were put, 
 and drove through the hamlets, stopping at 
 the various houses, and personally distrib- 
 uting the gifts. First of all they drove to 
 Clause, in whom the last winter had worked 
 a great change. After the first expressions 
 of sympathy had been received from his 
 neighbors, and he had once washed down 
 all thought and care with a good drink, he 
 took to mitigating his troubles by the all- 
 obliterating wine, or by brandy, if he could 
 get no better. His wife and children were 
 in despair at this change in him, and once 
 the family came to hard words, the Cooper 
 having heard that his father had been beg- 
 ging of a stranger from the other side of the 
 mountains, and complaining of having been 
 ruined by a rich man. 
 
 The Gauger and the Burgomaster were 
 amused with Claus's complaints and fierce 
 invectives, his jokes and wise sayings, and 
 supplied him with liquor. 
 
 When Roland and the Major arrived at 
 this man^ house, it was evident, even at that 
 early hour of the morning, that he had been 
 drinking. Roland was much shocked, but 
 the Major said, — 
 
 " Oh, you should not think anything of 
 that. The man drinks too much, but only 
 too much for his own stomach. Where is 
 the harm ? If a man is made happy by a 
 glass of wine too much, do let him enjoy 
 it. 11 
 
 The Majors words and Roland^ inward 
 happiness soon effaced all recollection of 
 this first meeting. From Claus's they went 
 to Sevenpiper 1 s, where was rejoicing be- 
 yond measure. 
 
 Roland said, again and again, that this day 
 was the happiest he had ever passed ; and 
 the Major impressed upon him that he must 
 not throw his good deeds into the empty 
 air, but accept the good wishes and bless- 
 ings of those he had relieved from suffering 
 i and care. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 323 
 
 44 Fräulein Milch," he added, "has a 
 good saying, which should be inscribed in 
 the temple j The happiest hour is that which 
 follows the performance of a good deed. 
 Write that in your heart,. my boy. 1 ' 
 
 The dogs jumped about the wagon, and 
 Roland cried out to them, — 
 
 " Do you too know that this is my happi- 
 est day ? You poor beasts, I can give you 
 nothing but food ; you want neither clothes 
 nor money." 
 
 Out of one house Roland came flying, 
 pale as death. 
 
 " What has happened to you ? 11 asked the 
 Major. 
 
 " Oh, let us get away from here, away ! " 
 urged the youth in terror. •* I tremble all 
 over, now, at what was done to me. If I 
 had been attacked by robbers, I could not 
 have been more frightened." 
 
 "But what was it? Tell me what it 
 was ! " 
 
 " The old man, whom I brought the 
 clothes and money for, wanted to kiss my 
 hand ; that old man — my hand ! I thought 
 I should die, I was so frightened. And are 
 you laughing at it ? " 
 
 ," I am not laughing; you were quite 
 right." 
 
 The Major looked upon this sensitiveness 
 as one of the results of the nervous fever, 
 and said after a while, — 
 
 " Your father has planted a great many 
 trees, and when one thrives he calls it a 
 grateful tree. Do you know what the most 
 grateful tree is ? The tree of knowledge 
 and good works." 
 
 While Roland's heart was thus swelling 
 with the joy of health and well-doing, Eric 
 was in great depression. He had given his 
 mother Professor Einsiedels letter, and, 
 sitting beside her, told her how this had 
 comforted him for a while, but that now he 
 was again in a state of great uncertainty, 
 because his relation to Sonnenkamp must 
 henceforth be one of painful dependence ; 
 till now he had occupied a free and equal 
 position with regard to him, but now he had 
 received favors, received a gift of money, and 
 had lost his independence. 
 
 His mother listened patiently to the end, 
 and then asked, — 
 
 "Do you hesitate to accept this gift be- 
 cause it comes from Herr Sonnenkamp ? 
 Why not as readily or as reluctantly as from 
 any one else, from Clodwig, for instance ? " 
 
 She put the question eagerly, thinking she 
 perceived that Eric, as well as herself, was 
 aware of Sonnenkamp's past life ; but she 
 was soon assured that he had no suspicion 
 of it, by his replying, — 
 
 " Friendship gives differently, and makes 
 
 lit seem hardly a gift; from a friend like 
 Clodwig, I could accept anything." 
 
 His mother told him he should consider 
 that the money came from Roland, whose 
 coming of age was only anticipated. 'But 
 that idea troubled Eric too : it made him 
 feel that he was sent away, paid off; the 
 account was squared between them. His 
 mother reminded him, for his consolation, 
 that no outward pay could compensate for 
 the labor, the burning cheek, the trem-/ 
 bling nerves, the planning and thinking by 
 day and by night, which the education of a 
 human being requires. Finally, Eric con- 
 fessed that it mortified him to have to ac- 
 cept presents before Pranken, and Manna 
 too, the daughter of the house. 
 
 " Pranken and Manna are one," answered 
 his mother, " she is his betrothed. But take 
 comfort ; look back over the past year, and 
 you will see that you have developed in 
 your pupil a character which nothing can 
 undermine." 
 
 This thought finally enabled Eric to rise 
 above all his depression, and when he left 
 his mother's house he had spirit enough to 
 exclaim : — 
 
 "Look at Eric, old Father Rhine; he is 
 become an independent man, and can live 
 upon his interest till he is seventy-seven 
 years old ! " 
 
 He met Roland and the Major returning 
 from their round of visits. It was not for 
 nothing that the Major carried always two 
 watches about with him, one of which he 
 called his galloper because it was always fast ; 
 the only difficulty was, he could never tell 
 whether he had put the galloper in his right 
 or left pocket ; however, he was on hand 
 again punctually at dinner-time. 
 
 Roland sat at the richly furnished table, 
 but tasted scarcely a morsel. 
 
 " I am so full," he said to Eric, " so full 
 of the great happiness I have given to-day. 
 And you — are you not happy too ? " 
 
 Eric could truly say he was. 
 
 There was some discussion as to who 
 should propose the customary toast for Ro- 
 land ; whether it was for Eric or Pranken 
 to do. 
 
 Both at length urged the duty upon the 
 Major, who rose and said, — 
 
 " Gentlemen and ladies ! " 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Pranken. 
 
 " Thank you," said the Major, " Inter- 
 rupt me as often as you will ; I have learned 
 to take flying leaps, and every obstacle gives 
 me a chance for a higher bound. Once more, 
 ladies and gentlemen ! the human race is 
 divided into male and female." 
 
 General laughter, which delighted the 
 Major. 
 
324 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Here you behold a pair in the garden 
 of Eden — " 
 
 " Perhaps you would like this to complete 
 your picture ? " said Pranken, handing the 
 IVIajor an apple. 
 
 Roland was indignant with Pranken for 
 interfering so often, and begged the Major 
 not to let himself be confused by it. 
 
 ** Be easy, my boy," said the Major in a 
 low voice ; " I can stand fire." 
 
 Then he continued aloud : — 
 
 " So we have here two children, the 
 daughter of the house and the son of the 
 house ; and the children have us. They 
 have their parents ; they have a grand- 
 mother and an aunt by election, and here," — 
 giving himself a ringing blow on his chest , — 
 " here they have an uncle. We love them 
 as if they were our own blood, and they 
 love us, do they not, children ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " cried Roland, and Manna nod- 
 ded. 
 
 " So then, if I had a son — no, I don't 
 mean that — if I had a teacher for this son 
 of mine — no, I did not mean that either — 
 So, then, our wild rover there — see, he has 
 already a growth upon his face — may the 
 Architect of the universe bless him, and let 
 him grow to be a man who shall understand 
 what is true happiness for himself, for 
 others, for his brethren of all faiths, for all 
 the descendants of man upon the earth." 
 
 Amen, he was about to say, but correct- 
 ed himself, and cried: — " His health, again 
 and again, his health. 
 
 The Major sat down, and unbuttoned 
 several buttons behind his napkin. 
 
 Sonnenkamp spoke next, and in happily 
 chosen language proposed a toast to Eric, 
 his mother, and his aunt. 
 
 "You must speak too; you must speak 
 too," the Major kept urging upon Eric. 
 
 Eric rose, and with a light and cheerful 
 tone began : — 
 
 " Two things may be particularly noticed, 
 which the Old World has given to the New 
 World of America — the horse and wine. 
 The horse is not a native of America, neither 
 is wine. Germans first planted vineyards 
 in the New World. Two natural objects, 
 therefore, which enlarge the scope of human 
 strength and intellect, we have presented 
 to the New World. I leave out of consider- 
 ation the kingdom of ideas. My toast is 
 this : May our Roland, who comes to us 
 from the New World, be borne onward and 
 animated by the rich powers beyond himself, 
 to great and noble ends ! " He raised his 
 glass with enthusiasm, the sunlight sparkled 
 in the wine, and pointing to it he continued : 
 
 " The sun of to-day greets the sun of a 
 past age. What we drink is the offspring 
 
 of departed days, and what we receive into 
 our soul has ripened in the sun of eternity. 
 Each one of us should be a fruit that shall 
 ripen and live on in the sun of eternity, as 
 God lives in humanity, and in the stars, and 
 in the trees and plants. Holy is the world, 
 and holy should we make ourselves. We 
 are not our own, and what we have is not 
 our own. What we are and what we have 
 belong to the Eternal. My Roland, the 
 bright, smiling, sunny light of this day 
 which is gilding the earth will be turned to 
 the fire of the wine, Avhich after resting and 
 ripening in well sealed casks, in the cool 
 earth, shall presently be carried to strangers 
 through all the lands, to animate and pen- 
 etrate them with its sunlight. So shall the 
 sun of to-day become fire in our souls, 
 which shall burn brightly through the cold 
 and desolate days that may be in store. 
 May that ripen in you, my Roland, which 
 shall quicken your soul, and rejoice man- 
 kind, and convert all life into the free and 
 beautiful temple of God." 
 
 Eric's eye encountered a glance from 
 Manna's, as he sat down. She beheld him 
 as it were for the first time. His face wore 
 an expression of ideality, of spirituality, 
 which seemed to subdue all passion, and a 
 look of such manly decision as made her 
 feel, If, in danger, I had this man by my 
 side, I should have an all-sufficient help. 
 But she needed no help. 
 
 Sonnenkamp and Pranken shrugged their 
 shoulders at the conclusion of Eric's speech, 
 and had to repress a laugh which was pro- 
 voked by Sonnenkamp's whispering to his 
 neighbor, — 
 
 " The man almost seems to believe what 
 he says." 
 
 A diversion was here made by the arrival 
 of the Doctor, and of the Justice's Lina, 
 who was eager to greet her friend upon her 
 " return to life," as she called it. All arose 
 from the table in excellent spirits. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 ABOUT ANOTHER AND FOR ANOTHER. 
 
 The Doctor kept close watch upon the 
 behavior of the girls, «and listened to their 
 conversation. Manna expressed her thanks 
 for her friend's kind attention, but preserved 
 all the while in her manner a certain reserve, 
 an indescribable something, the result ofthat 
 life in the convent which to Lina had been 
 productive of nothing but an acquaintance 
 with foreign languages. 
 
 The Doctor afterwards expressed to the 
 Professorin, as they were walking back and 
 forth together in the garden, great curiosity 
 to know whether' worldly wisdom would 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 325 
 
 succeed in triumphing over the influence of 
 the Church, and also his regret that she 
 herself was not a Catholic, as in that case 
 her task would be much easier. But the 
 lady remained firm in her decision to exert 
 no influence whatever on Manna ; she was 
 not only not required by her duty to do so, 
 but would actually have no right, Manna 
 being betrothed to Pranken. 
 
 "Who knows?" replied the Doctor, 
 " who knows ? The Huguenots not only 
 went into exile themselves ; their example 
 made others emigrate : and often our influ- 
 ence is greatest when it is quite uninten- 
 tional." 
 
 Sonnenkamp wished Lina to spend some 
 of these Spring weeks with his daughter, 
 and Manna had no alternative but to 
 second the invitation. Lina accepted, on 
 condition of obtaining her parents' consent, 
 and returned with the Doctor to be sent for 
 the next day. 
 
 Pranken, who remained through the even- 
 ing, was rejoiced at Manna's confiding to 
 him that she had already painfully experi- 
 enced the world's temptation to want of 
 truthfulness ; for that, to speak with per- 
 fect candor, she' did not desire a visit from 
 Lina, and yet she had been obliged to re- 
 quest it ; that she thought was the great sin 
 of the world, that it makes us false to our- 
 selves. 
 
 Pranken hoped that Lina's visit would 
 have an enlivening effect upon Manna ; to 
 begin with, however, he wanted to find out 
 how she liked the Professorin. In ap- 
 proaching the subject he so carefully worded 
 his remarks that if Manna should speak 
 with enthusiasm he could fall in with it, and 
 the same if she expressed dislike. 
 
 Manna repressed the confession that rose 
 to her lips, that she felt herself already be- 
 wildered by the confusion that prevailed in 
 the house, and longed for the well-ordered 
 quiet of the convent, and merely complained 
 of feeling so unlike herself in the world. 
 But, when Pranken thanked her for this 
 confidence, she recoiled and said, scarce 
 above her breath, that the world made peo- 
 ple talkative even when they wished to be 
 reserved. 
 
 "I am glad to hear you speak of re- 
 serve," resumed Pranken, after a pause; 
 "for our Archbishop enjoined it upon me 
 lately in those very words. * Be reserved, 1 
 he said ; ' persons who speak much and 
 readily are at bottom nothing but dilet- 
 tanti.'" 
 
 He thought Manna would perceive at 
 once that he was referring to Eric, but, as 
 she gave no sign of applying the charge of 
 
 dilettantism to him, Pranken spoke more 
 openly and said : — 
 
 " Do you not perceive something of the 
 dilettante in the very talkative Herr Eric ? " 
 
 Manna answered shortly : — 
 
 " The man talks much, but " 
 
 Here she made a long pause, and Pran- 
 ken was in great suspense, wondering how 
 she would finish her sentence. 
 
 "He talks much," she said, "but he 
 thinks much too." 
 
 Pranken cast about for some turn he 
 could give the conversation, which, with a 
 skilful aim, could not fail to hit the mark. 
 He might have spared himself his great 
 pains, for a man whose activities extended 
 over so much ground as Eric's offered many 
 points of attack. 
 
 Pranken began by declaring Eric to be a 
 kind of Don Quixote, a man who was always 
 adventuring after great ideas, as in the case 
 of the exaggerated sentiment of his toast. 
 Disguising the cutting nature of his remarks 
 under cover of gentle words, he attempted 
 to turn Eric into ridicule. He thought it 
 presumption in him, in the first place, to lay 
 claim to any inward consecration as a cloak 
 for his profanities, and finally went so far 
 as to accuse him of passing off counterfeit 
 coin, in the hope of deceiving a childlike, 
 confiding mind. He looked keenly at. Man- 
 na as he spoke, but she kept silence. 
 
 "Be on your guard," he added, "he 
 plays the model man everywhere." 
 
 The expression seemed to please Pranken 
 so well, that he ventured to repeat it. 
 
 " This playing tfee model man is very 
 cunning, but we can see through it. You 
 have no idfea how much trouble this pattern 
 of pedagogues, this HerrDournay, has given 
 us. You must be on your guard ; his every 
 word is stamped with the conviction, that he 
 unites in his own person all possible exam- 
 ples of virtue." 
 
 Encouraged by a smile on Manna's face, 
 which she tried in vain to suppress, Pranken 
 continued : — 
 
 " After all, his eloquence is only that of 
 the hairdresser, who talks of all kinds of 
 things while he is curling your hair, only 
 without settirig up for so much scientific and 
 religious aplomb. Observe how often he 
 uses the word humanity ; I counted it four- 
 teen times, once, in a single hour. He 
 affects great modesty, but his conceit ac- 
 tually exceeds all bounds." 
 
 Pranken laughed, knowing how easy it is 
 to throw ridicule upon a man in the full tide 
 of enthusiastic action ; and with pleasure he 
 perceived that his words were not without 
 influence on Manna. If you can once set a 
 
326 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 man in a ridiculous light, there is no salva- 
 tion for him. This, Pranken knew and 
 hoped to accomplish in the present case ; 
 he, however, went on to say : — 
 
 "Our Roland has learned a great deal 
 under this honorable gentleman, but he has 
 had enough of him now ; it is time he en- 
 tered upon a wider sphere.' 1 
 
 Manna preserved her thoughtful silence, 
 and soon after walked away, occasionally, 
 as she went towards the villa, nodding to 
 heirself as if assenting to what she had 
 heard. Pranken looked after her in per- 
 plexity. 
 
 On the steps she met Eric, and both stop- 
 ped. Eric felt obliged to say something, 
 and therefore began, — 
 
 " I can imagine its being hard for you to 
 have your first day at home a fete day ; it 
 will, perhaps, make the days that follow 
 seem dull. 11 
 
 " How should you know what is passing 
 in my thoughts ? 11 replied Manna, as she 
 went on up the steps. 
 
 She was indignant with the man for for- 
 getting his position in the house, and taking 
 upon himself to tell what was passing in her 
 mind. What right had he to put into words 
 what she did not choose to express ? As 
 she went up the steps, she pressed together 
 in anger the lips which had spoken such 
 cruel words ; she was angry with herself 
 too. But the words had been said, and 
 could not be unsaid. 
 
 She spent the whole evening in her room. 
 At a late hour Roland knocked at the 
 door, and insisted on being admitted. 
 
 "Ah, sister, 11 he said, as he sat down 
 beside her, " of all I have been through 
 to-day, one thing haunts me. Everybody 
 to whom I gave a present said he would 
 pray for me. How is that possible, and 
 what good would it do ? What good would 
 it do to have another person pray for me, 
 and say of me and wish for me before God 
 all sorts of good things ? Of what use 
 would it be, if I were not in my own soul 
 good and noble? No man can pray for 
 another. 11 
 
 "Roland, what are you saying? What 
 are you thinking of? 11 cried Manna, seiz- 
 ing him by both arms and shaking him; 
 then, leaving the boy standing in amaze- 
 ment, she hurried into her chamber and 
 threw herself upon her knees. 
 
 On this first day at home the ruin of her 
 house was revealed to her. She prayed 
 for Roland, that his mind might be enlight- 
 ened and delivered from bondage, and even 
 while she prayed, a feeling of strangeness 
 stole over her. She wrung her hands, she 
 groaned, she wept. Is it true that no one 
 
 can stand in the place of another, can sac- 
 rifice himself for another? No, it is not, 
 — it cannot be. She felt herself burdened, 
 as by an actual weight from heaven, at the 
 stirring of this great question, this great 
 anxiety within her. Can a human being, 
 then, do more harm than good to another ? 
 Is it so ? Must it be so ? There was a 
 violent struggle in her soul ; at last she 
 smiled ; a great conflict is appointed for me, 
 she thought, and it is already beginning. 
 She was to save the soul of her brother, 
 and this, she told herself, could not be done 
 by violence, but only by gentleness and 
 humility. 
 
 Sbe rose, and returning to the room 
 where she had left Roland, held out her 
 hand to him. 
 
 "I see, 11 she said, "you are my grown- 
 up brother ; we must help one another to 
 become better. We have much to give 
 and to take from each other ; that will come 
 of itself." 
 
 She sat down quietly beside him, and 
 held his hand tightly clasped in hers. 
 
 " How pleasant it must seem to you. to 
 be at home again ! 11 exclaimed Roland. 
 " The convent is no home for any one. 11 
 
 " For that very reason it is the best, 1 ' 
 returned Manna. " Every day, every hour 
 reminds us that we have no home in this 
 world ; that our whole life is but a pilgrim- 
 age. If this world were our home, we 
 should both have, you and I — no. You 
 too tempt me to say what I should not." 
 
 "Eric is right, 11 said Roland. " He 
 says you are truly pious ; what millions 
 speak only with their lips, you utter from 
 your heart. 11 
 
 " Did Eric say that ? 11 
 
 " Yes, and much more. 11 
 
 "But, Roland, 11 interrupted Manna, "you 
 should never tell what one person says of 
 another. 11 
 
 " Not if it is good ? 11 
 
 "Not even then. We cannot tell on 
 that very account — no, 11 she interrupted 
 herself; " are you not very happy in hav- 
 ing so true a friend in Eric ? 11 
 
 " Indeed I am ; and do you not like him 
 better than Pranken ? 11 
 
 A smde rose to Manna's lips, but she 
 repressed it and said, — 
 
 "Your teacher should also teach you 
 never to make comparisons. But now, 
 dear brother, remember that I have come 
 from a convent, and need to be much alone. 
 Good-night ! 11 she added, kissing him. 
 
 " Remember, 11 he called back to her as 
 he departed, "that you must take your 
 two dogs with you when you go to walk. 11 
 
 Manna was even yet not allowed to be 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 327 
 
 alone. In the convent she had had no one 
 to wait upon her, but here her father in- 
 sisted on her having a maid to undress 
 her. 
 
 The woman .praised her beautiful black 
 hair as she let it down. 
 
 "Ah, my Fräulein, you have what is so 
 rare in tjjese days, good, healthy hair. 
 Would you believe, Fräulein, that almost 
 all the hair we see on ladies' heads is false 
 or padded ? they wear a hat hidden under 
 their hair." 
 
 And yet, thought Manna, this hair will 
 
 fall. A sudden terror shot through her, 
 as the maid passed her fingers through the 
 loosened hair ; she fancied that she already 
 heard the clipping of the scissors. 
 
 At last Manna was alone. After de- 
 voting herself for some time to meditation 
 and prayer, she began a letter to the 
 Superior. 
 
 4 ' We have celebrated to-day my birthday 
 and my return to my parents 1 house ; but I 
 long for my own birthday, which shall be 
 my entrance into the home of my Eternal 
 Father — " 
 
THE COTOTEY-HOUSE ON TSE KHINE. 
 PART in. 
 
328 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK X. — CHAPTER I. 
 THE GIANTS TOY. 
 
 The legend tells of that child-giant who 
 took the ploughman, with plough and horse, 
 to be a plaything, gathered them up in his 
 apron, and carried them off. 
 
 This was the case with Manna. Her 
 thoughts, by day and by night, had been so 
 far removed from the world, so elevated, 
 and so victorious over it, that all its doings 
 seemed to her like children's plays. What 
 is it all for ? To pass away the time ? Chil- 
 dren succeed in that ; they unconsciously 
 persuade themselves that their dolls are 
 alive; while children of a larger growth 
 play with their dolls, but look upon them 
 as shams. 
 
 Life is all idle play to them, and death 
 alone is something serious. 
 
 It was with some such thought, that 
 Manna stood at the window, early on the 
 morning after Roland's birthday ; she saw 
 nothing of the world, and yet she saw the 
 whole world, far, far away. 
 
 So deeply impressed upon her memory, 
 were the tones of the convent-bell which 
 had awakeifed the pupils at the first blush 
 of dawn, that they had aroused her, this 
 morning also, from her slumbers. She 
 seemed to hear it ringing as she slept. It 
 was some time before she realized where 
 she was. 
 
 Thou art at home — where is thy home ? 
 who has built a house out of these stones, 
 has made this bed ? 
 
 In the villa all were still sleeping. Manna 
 alone was awake, and with her the innu- 
 merable choirs of birds in the garden ; and 
 as the birds outside mingled together their 
 twittering songs, so a thousand thoughts 
 flitted through her mind. 
 
 She went into the park, and stood for a 
 long time* before the new gate that opened 
 upon the path to the little green cottage. 
 A voice within her seemed to say : Through 
 this gate, and in this pathway, thou wilt 
 have much to experience, much to struggle 
 with, and much to overcome. 
 
 She wanted to find out, to image to her- 
 self what would enter there, but she suc- 
 ceeded no better than did Eric, as he gazed 
 at the convent steps, in calling up before 
 his mind's eye the various destinies of those 
 who had passed in and out over that thresh- 
 old. 
 
 Who would have been able to tell her 
 that Eric had once gazed with the same 
 feelings ! 
 
 Manna had a feeling of unrest, as if she 
 knew that an eye was watching her. Eric 
 was now in fact standing at the window, 
 
 and his glance rested upon her; but he 
 took care to keep out of her sight. His 
 soul too was moved, but by wholly differ- 
 ent thoughts. While he was asleep, there 
 was with him the abiding feeling that now 
 he was possessed of ample means and was 
 his own master; and this consciousness fin- 
 ally waked him. In the earliest dawn, he 
 had again counted over the money which 
 Sonnen kamp had handed him on the pre- 
 vious day. It was enough to support him- 
 self and his mother. He was so unaccus- 
 tomed to money, that he felt impelled to 
 count it several times over, and finally even 
 to write down the amount. Then he smiled, 
 saying to himself: — 
 
 It's well, and I am glad to be put to the 
 test whether I can perform my duty in life 
 with the same earnestness, poor or rich. • 
 
 He opened the window and perceived 
 Manna. He drew back softly, and won- 
 dered what were the feelings and thoughts 
 of the child, who had come from the seclu- 
 sion of the cloister into the luxurious pa- 
 rental home. 
 
 Sounds were now heard from the neigh- 
 boring village, from all quarters, from both 
 shores of the river, up and down the 
 stream. 
 
 Manna left the park and turned back to 
 the house in order to get her prayer-book. 
 Fraulein Perini was waiting for her in the 
 hall. 
 
 Manna heard Fräulein Perini give direc- 
 tions to the servants to make ready a room 
 for the Justice's daughter, and she had it 
 upon her lips to reproach herself to her 
 former governess, for having been insin- 
 cere in permitting Lina to be invited. She 
 dreaded her visit ; the superficial and child- 
 ish character, as she had seen it the day 
 before, seemed something new and strange. 
 She had resolved to gain the victory by 
 herself alone, and had come to the conclu- 
 sion to ask Lina plainly not to make the 
 visit at this time ; she owed it to herself to 
 remain alone, and to admit no distracting 
 influence. 
 
 As she was going down the steps with 
 Fraulein Perini, a letter was handed her, 
 brought by a messenger, who was waiting 
 for an answer. Lina wrote how much she 
 regretted that she was not permitted to ac- 
 cept the hospitable invitation to Villa Eden. 
 She besought Manna to send back a single 
 word, containing the assurance that she was 
 not angry with her. 
 
 Manna was glad that she could now re- 
 ply without wounding the feelings of Lina, 
 whose parents, she wrote, were in the right. 
 
 On reading over again her friend's letter, 
 it seemed strange to Manna that no sort of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 329 
 
 excuse was assigned. Do all the neigh- 
 bors still hold aloof from her parents' 
 house ? 
 
 Perhaps so ! Another parental home, 
 yonder, extends its invitation. 
 
 The church bell again rang, and Manna 
 went with Fräulein Perini to church. 
 
 Fraulein Perini was elated and happy. 
 Others might attempt to win Manna with 
 every variety of influence ; she alone could 
 go with her to church. 
 
 " Do you still prefer to be silent in the 
 morning?" asked Fräulein Perini quietly, 
 extending her hand. 
 
 Manna nodded without speaking. Not 
 another word was interchanged. 
 
 When the mass was over, and they had 
 left the church together, Fräulein Perini 
 said that she would like to introduce Manna 
 to the Priest, who had been stationed here 
 during her absence. 
 
 Manna begged to go alone. She lin- 
 gered a while, without moving from the 
 spot, and then went to the Priest's house. 
 She seemed to be expected, for the Priest 
 came out on the steps to meet her, and 
 welcomed her with a benediction. He led 
 her by the hand into his room, hastily re- 
 moving his breakfast from the table, on 
 which there was an open book. 
 
 Manna was directed to take a seat on 
 the sofa. She began : — 
 
 "Fräulein Perini wished to introduce me 
 to you, Reverend Sir. That might be neces- 
 sary with a man ; a stranger, but you are 
 not a man, a stranger, you are a servant of 
 our holy Church. 11 
 
 The Priest partially closed his eyes, 
 brought together the ends of the fingers of 
 his handsome hands, then drew them apart, 
 and said in a quiet and clear tone : — 
 
 " The right way ! You are in the right 
 way, my child, keep in it. So it is ! World- 
 lings come into a place, they are strangers, 
 strangers as if they were among savages, and 
 they are ignorant whether there is a single 
 person who cherishes the same thoughts 
 with them ; and there are no two people 
 who have the same thoughts, even when the 
 words are the same, and they have no bond 
 of unity ; they are like the mote dancing 
 here in the sunbeam. But you, if you 
 should enter the remotest village, you would 
 be at home. There is a house, and within 
 it is a man who welcomes you as a spiritual i 
 brother, as a father. He is not there of 
 himself, but has been placed there by an- 
 other ; and you have not come of yourself, \ 
 but have been led by another. You are j 
 doubly welcome, my child, for perceiving 
 and realizing this immediately. You knock 
 at my door, and it is open to you ; and it j 
 
 will be open whenever you may come. You 
 knock at my heart, and that is open to you, 
 be sure of that. I have no house of my 
 own ; my house belongs to him who shall 
 come after me, and not to him either, and 
 my heart is His who has made it beat. 11 
 
 The Priest stopped speaking, and fixed 
 his regard upon Manna, who had closed her 
 eyes, as if she could not bear the sunlight, 
 could not gaze at the countenance on which 
 the Spirit was now descending. The Priest 
 could see how deeply she was moved ; he 
 placed his hand in a friendly way upon her 
 head, saying : — 
 
 " Look up at me. I repeat to you, that 
 you have come alone, and you know why 
 you have come alone ; this spares us the ' 
 necessity of coming to an understanding, 
 as worldlings term it. Coming to an un-. 
 demanding ! 11 
 
 The Priest laughed. 
 
 " Coming to an understanding ! and they 
 never do understand each other, they, the 
 cultivated, as they call themselves, or the 
 selt L cultivating, as they ought to call them- 
 selves, for they believe that they can make 
 themselves into anything they please. 
 They need a recommendation from some 
 one, who must say who they are and what 
 they are ; but we, we need no introduction, 
 no recommendation. You are recommend- 
 ed and introduced, inasmuch as you are a 
 child of our holy Church. Hold last to this, 
 my child, and speak to me about what- 
 ever you wish to, of what is sacred and 
 what is profane, of what is great and what 
 is smaii ; you will always find with me a 
 home. If they disgust you in the world, 
 and make you feel homeless, remember, 
 here is rest and here is home. Look out 
 of doors ! Your father has, above there, a 
 hot-house for foreign plants which are not 
 at home in our climate ; this room is your 
 hot-house for the plant of holy faith which 
 is not at home yonder. My child, I cast no 
 stone at any one, but I tell you, and you 
 know already, this plant is not of this world, 
 and is, in this world, in a foreign climate ; 
 it has been brought to us from heaven. 11 
 
 The Priest stood looking out of the win- 
 dow, and Manna sat on the sofa. 
 
 For some time not a word was spoken. 
 Manna was deeply affected by this elevated 
 strain of cordial sympathy. There was no 
 need of any hesitating preliminaries ; she 
 was at once conducted into the inmost 
 sanctuary. 
 
 She asked at last in a timid way, how she 
 ought to conduct herself towards all the per- 
 sons who were received as friends in the 
 house of her parents, and who plumed them- 
 selves upon their culture. 
 
330 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " You question well, you question definite- 
 ly, and that is the mark of a mature mind," 
 replied the Priest. " Know then, that you 
 are to smile at all the boastful things you 
 will be obliged to listen to ; they pretend to 
 be so great, and they are so very little. 
 These 'learned ones believe that the world 
 is without understanding, and that it is ruled 
 with no more wisdom than their understand- 
 ing and their wisdom attribute to it ; they 
 put God in one scale, and their own brain 
 in the other. Pah ! " 
 
 The Priest spoke now in a wholly differ- 
 ent tone ; he was violent and bitter, so that 
 Manna shrank together with affright. The 
 Priest, who noticed this, composed himself 
 again, saying : — 
 
 "You see that I am still weak, and al- 
 low myself to be carried away by excite- 
 ment. My child, there are two things 
 which conquer the world : their names are 
 God and the Devil, or, when transferred 
 into the domain of our own interior being, 
 Piety and Frivolity. Piety sees everything 
 as holy ; appearances are only a veil, while 
 Frivolity sees nothing as holy. Piety is the 
 law of God ; Frivolity has released herself 
 from the law of God, and sports with the 
 world of appearances according to her own 
 pleasure. Between piety and frivolity there 
 is a half-and-half state, and that is the worst 
 of all. Frivolity reaches its extreme point 
 and is capable of being converted, to which 
 we have some glorious witnesses ; but the 
 heroes of reason, so-called, or, more prop- 
 erly speaking, the weaklings of reason, 
 they are not capable of being converted, 
 for they are wholly destitute of that dispo- 
 sition which tends to humility." 
 
 The Priest thought that Manna would un- 
 derstand him to be pointing out Eric and 
 Pranken ; he did not want to be any more 
 personal at first, but the ground was to be 
 broken. Now he turned round, smiling, 
 and seating himself said : — 
 
 "But, my child, let us not to-day lose 
 ourselves in such general considerations. 
 What have you to say ? " 
 
 Manna complained of finding it so hard 
 to complete another year of probation, 
 moving about in the world in order to be 
 released from it. 
 The Priest reassured her with the words : — 
 
 "You wish to take the veil; you have 
 taken it already ; it is drawn over you, and 
 over the world, though invisible to every 
 body else. Things in the world do not af- 
 fect your real self at all ; there is a veil be- 
 tween you and the world, which will be 
 wholly dropped only when death gives us 
 deliverance. 1 ' 
 
 The Priest proceeded to exhort her to 
 
 subject herself to what was the hardest of 
 all experiences to youth and ardent zeal, — 
 she was not to consider it as her vocation 
 to change the opinions of others, but she 
 was to labor for her own perfection. 
 
 He went more cautiously to work than 
 Pranken did ; he avoided a direct attack 
 upon Eric, as this might awaken an interest 
 in Manna towards him. He even praised 
 him ; but it was done in that tone of condes- 
 cension and pity, which comes so natural to 
 him who upholds a dogmatic faith. He in- 
 culcated upon her the fact, that she would 
 soon understand how trifling an affair it 
 would be to annihilate this liberal culture, 
 as it was termed, — that it was in its very 
 nature exceedingly fragile. This could be 
 plainly seen from each one of these so-called 
 liberally cultivated people wanting to be 
 something entirely different from his neigh- 
 bor. Each one of Roland's teachers, for 
 instance, had a different method, a different 
 course of instruction, different principles, 
 and a different end in view. 
 
 When Manna asked why the Priest had 
 not used his influence to keep Eric from 
 being received into the family, he replied 
 that he was glad to find her so zealous, but 
 a person was obliged to let some things 
 take their course in this world ; and besides, 
 from the outset, all resistance to her father 
 would have been to no purpose, for Roland 
 had insisted upon having his own way. 
 And notwithstanding Eric was a complete 
 heretic, he recognized the holy, to a certain 
 extent, although there was much pride min- 
 gled with this recognition. 
 
 He feared to make Eric of too much im- 
 portance, and so he added, almost with 
 timidity, that these apparently mild and en- 
 thusiastic idealists were just the most dan- 
 gerous. 
 
 Then he went on to advise Manna to con- 
 sider the world around as alien to herself. 
 
 The interview seemed now to have be- 
 come rather painful. The Priest suddenly 
 and abruptly said that it was time for Manna 
 to return home, as they would be expecting 
 her there. She was not to conceal that she 
 had been with him, but he would excuse 
 her now in advance, if she should often suf- 
 fer a considerable time to intervene between 
 her calls upon him ; he should remain un- 
 shaken in the conviction that her inmost soul 
 continued devoted to the holy faith. 
 
 " Now go, my child," he said in conclu- 
 sion, " and be assured that I shall pray for 
 you." 
 
 Manna had risen ; she looked at him ear- 
 nestly. The inquiry seemed to be awakened 
 in her own soul : Can, then, one human 
 being pray for another ? 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 331 
 
 The inquiry which Roland had proposed 
 presented itself afresh, and grew to be the 
 riddle of her life. She desired to sacrifice 
 herself for another, her whole existence 
 should be only a prayer for another. 
 
 How is this possible ? 
 
 She wanted to ask if it were true, and if 
 true, why it was, that one human being 
 could do more harm than good to another ; 
 that one could lay a burden upon another 
 soul, but no one could remove that burden. 
 She wanted to say this to the Priest, and 
 receive some help from him, but he repeated, 
 — " Now go, my child ! " She turned away 
 her inquiring eyes and went. 
 
 On her way home, she stood near a field, 
 watching a laborer who was busy ploughing, 
 and the thought occurred to her : Yes, one 
 can sacrifice himself for another, for the 
 souls of men are nothing by themselves ; all 
 that breathe are nothing but a breath of 
 God; all movement in the earth and in the 
 great world is nothing but the movement 
 of a single Being. 
 
 Everything seemed to swim before her 
 eyes; she savv the peasant ploughing, she 
 saw the vessels floating upon the Rhine, and 
 the birds flying in the air. All is one, all 
 is little, the whole is only a giant's toy. 
 
 chapter ii. 
 
 one's own part in the world. 
 
 Manna walked dreamily along, but be- 
 came roused to full consciousness when the 
 dogs Rose and Thistle sprang up to her, 
 rejoiced to have their mistress with them 
 again. 
 
 '* So our wild doe has got home ? 11 cried 
 a voice from a distance ; it was that of the 
 field-guard, Claus, who had the dogs with 
 him. " I mustn't speak to you now as I 
 used to,' : he exclaimed. " Hi ! how tall you 
 are ! But what are you so sad for ? Cheer 
 up ! Just see, Fraulein, all round, as far 
 down as the rocks there, your father has 
 bought it all." 
 
 " Can one buy the earth ? " asked Manna, 
 as if waking from a dream. 
 
 Claus replied : — 
 
 " What do you say? I don't understand 
 you." 
 
 " It was of no consequence," answered 
 Manna. Can one buy then the immovable 
 ground ? From whom ? Who has a right 
 to it ? This question presented itself to 
 Manna as an enigma ; she gazed intently 
 into the empty air, and hardly heard the 
 huntsman's narrative of his recent experi- 
 ences. When he said : — " Yes, Fraulein, 
 I've been a simpleton, and am very sorry 
 for it," she asked him : — 
 
 " What have you been doing? " 
 
 " Zounds ! I repeat that I've been doing 
 nothing ; that all my life I've been a simple, 
 honest fellow, and not a bad one at all. 
 The bigger rascal one is, so much the better 
 off. What now does the world give me ? 
 People can make you bad, but good — who 
 can make you that? The only comfort 
 grows there on the hillside — there's where 
 the drop of comfort comes from, but I can 
 get only a beggar's sup. I should just like 
 to know whether Herr Dournay is a true 
 man ; I think there's no true men going now 
 except Herr Weidmann. You've been in 
 the convent, and is't a fact that you want 
 to be a nun ? " 
 
 Manna had not time to answer, for Claus 
 continued, laughing : — 
 
 " I've many a time thought that I'd like 
 to go into a convent, too. Everybody 
 ought to be able to go into a convent when 
 he's sixty years old ; nothing to do there 
 but drink and drink, until death claps his 
 warrant upon you. But I don't want to 
 make death's acquaintance yet awhile ; I say, 
 like the constable of Mattenheim : Lord, 
 take your own time, I'm in no hurry." 
 
 Although so early in the morning, the 
 field-guard was a little excited and talked 
 a little thick. Manna was afraid of him, 
 but now gave him her hand and went off 
 with the dogs. 
 
 " I'd like to ask one favor of you ! " he 
 called after her. 
 
 She stopped. 
 
 He came up, and stated to her that the 
 gauger had given him a ticket in the Ca- 
 thedral lottery, and he had sold it to Seven- 
 piper, and if the number drew the first 
 prize, he should tear all the hair out of his 
 head, and never have a minute's comfort 
 with his children the rest of his life. If 
 Manna would give him a dollar, he could 
 buy the ticket back again. 
 
 As Manna hesitated, he added : — 
 "It's a pious matter, and just suits 
 you." 
 
 Manna did . not comprehend what he 
 meant, and she* learned now, for the first 
 time, that a lottery had been set up to raise 
 money for the completion of the Cathedral. 
 She gave the dollar, and walked quickly 
 away. 
 
 She went along the Rhine. The smooth 
 surface was broken only by the circling 
 ripples, and the fishes could be seen sporting 
 beneath ; the willows on the banks quivered 
 in the morning breeze, and were mirrored 
 in the stream. Manna entered the park. 
 The fragrance of flowers was wafted on the 
 fresh, sparkling air, and a divine peace was 
 diffused everywhere around. The flowers 
 
332 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-nOUSE ON THE RIIINE. 
 
 glistened with a lustrous brightness, and 
 each color was heightened and glorified by 
 the other ; the white added to the splendor 
 of the blue, and the red was softened in its 
 burning glow, making a holy, peaceful har- 
 mony. 
 
 Each flower, each tree in blossom, helps 
 to make fragrant the air which the daughter 
 of the house inhales ; and around her is a 
 human atmosphere whose elements are hard 
 to analyze. The father, harsh, and vio- 
 lent, wanted to force his will upon his child 
 cither by kindness or severity ; the mother, 
 wrapped up in her own feelings, wholly 
 taken up with herself and her ardent long- 
 ings for worldly show. 
 
 The Professorin thought much of Manna, 
 and would willingly have given her rest; 
 would have helped her over the first days 
 and imparted what she could, but she knew 
 very well that it was not best to offer any- 
 thing before it was asked for. 
 
 The Aunt's look and manner seemed al- 
 ways to be saying : I am all ready, if there 
 is anything you want of me. There was 
 no particular thing that she desired to 
 proffer Manna, but she would have held 
 back nothing. 
 
 Eric was very deeply interested; he 
 smiled to himself as the comparison oc- 
 curred to him : This child out of the convent 
 must feel as you did, when you left the 
 regiment and doffed your uniform ; formerly 
 kept under strict discipline, she must now 
 be under self-discipline altogether, and 
 must feel the want of commands, of com- 
 rades. 
 
 Manna took the single seat under the 
 weeping ash, that had been put in order for 
 her again, and now she wondered why she 
 had been so rude yesterday to Eric. 
 
 She wanted to say the first time she saw 
 him : Do not believe that I presumed in this 
 way because you are dependent and in ser- 
 vice. 
 
 And at this same moment Eric was walk- 
 ing alone in the park, and proposing to 
 say when he should meet with Manna : I 
 would not have our intercourse begin with 
 ill-humor or a misunderstanding. 
 
 Manna, hearing approaching footsteps, 
 now looked up and saw Eric coming along 
 the path. She remained seated. As he 
 came nearer, he greeted her, but neither 
 of them uttered the contemplated speech. 
 
 Eric began : — 
 
 " I should like to give you a proof that I 
 hold sacred the interior sanctuary of your 
 thought — and if yesterday I — it was a 
 day of great excitement. I beg you would 
 also remember that my employment tends 
 to make me interest myself even in the 
 
 thoughts of those with whom I have no 
 concern." 
 
 His tone was subdued. Manna was at a 
 loss what to reply. Both were silent, and 
 there was nothing heard but the singing of 
 the birds. At last Manna said : — 
 
 " Tell me about Roland. What is his 
 character ? " 
 
 " My father used to say, dear Fräulein, 
 " that no one could describe to another the 
 characteristics of his fellow ; that each one 
 sees the traits in an entirely different light." 
 
 " You are evading my question. 1 ' 
 
 " No. I wanted to say to you that I 
 do not consider it feasible to characterize 
 any person justly. If I praise Roland, it 
 seems to me as if I were praising a portion 
 of myself ; and if I point out his deficiencies, 
 then perhaps I am too severe, because I 
 feel as if they were my own. One thing, 
 however, a human being may be allowed to 
 say in his own commendation ; and so I 
 may be allowed to say of Roland, that he 
 has industry, perseverance, and truthfulness ; 
 this is the solid rock on which the moral su- 
 perstructure can be erected." 
 
 Manna involuntarily held up her prayer- 
 book with both hands, as if it were a shield. 
 
 Eric, thinking he understood the meaning 
 of this motion, said : — 
 
 "It has been, and is, a leading object 
 with me, that Roland should gain an eye of 
 his own, and trust to his own eye." 
 
 " An eye of his own? " Manna asked in 
 wonderment. 
 
 "Yes, you will readily perceive what I 
 mean by that. And now I have one favor 
 to ask for myself." 
 
 " For yourself? " 
 
 " Yes. Simply believe that I hold in high 
 respect your ideal of life, because I regard 
 it as sincere in you ; and the favor I have 
 to ask is, that you will do the same with 
 me." 
 
 " I was not aware — "Manna answered, 
 blushing deeply. 
 
 A sort of pain darted through her soul.; 
 on her face there was an expression of per- 
 plexity and conflict, for she was haunted by 
 what Pranken had said. Is this demand of 
 Eric's what Pranken^ had called setting up 
 as a pattern of honesty, and did Eric, who 
 might know of that view, exhort her to 
 judge impartially, whilst he laid a special 
 emphasis on having an eye of one's own ? 
 She could not complete her sentence, for 
 Roland came up, saying, — 
 
 "Indeed! Have you found each other 
 out so soon ? " 
 
 Manna rose hastily, and went to the 
 villa, holding Roland by the hand. 
 
 Pranken came out with Sonnenkamp to 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 333 
 
 meet them, and immediately said that he 
 had been to church too ; but he considered 
 it a duty not to distract Manna by speaking 
 to her in the morning. 
 
 Manna expressed her thanks. 
 
 At breakfast, Pranken had many anec- 
 dotes to relate, and he did it well, of the 
 royal hunting-lodge, and particularly of 
 events at Court. And he succeeded in giv- 
 ing a new and humorous setting out to 
 many worn-out garrison stories, that were 
 fresh to this circle. 
 
 " Dear child,' 1 Sonnenkamp broke in, 
 " you have not congratulated Herr von 
 Pranken on his appointment as chamber- 
 lain." 
 
 Manna bowed in congratulation, and 
 Pranken referred in a cheerful way to the 
 contrast there would be between his sum- 
 mer life as a husbandman, and his winter as 
 chamberlain. He said, further, that the 
 happiest day of his life had been the one 
 he had spent on the island ploughing ; 
 and a single rose was the only thing that he 
 envied, upon which glances fell that he- 
 would have liked to turn towards himself. 
 
 Manna blushed. 
 
 Pranken went on to say that the Prince 
 would drink the waters, this summer, at 
 Carlsbad. 
 
 Sonnenkamp immediately added, that 
 Doctor Richard some time ago had pre- 
 scribed these Waters to him as better suited 
 to his case than those of Vichy. 
 
 All the links seemed supplied for a com- 
 plete chain when Pranken narrated, in con- 
 tinuation, that his brother-in-law Clodwig, 
 and his sister Bella, would visit Carlsbad 
 this summer. 
 
 " And you must accompany us," Sonnen- 
 kamp said, nodding to Pranken. 
 
 Before she was fairly settled at home, 
 Manna saw herself withdrawn from thence 
 into the whirlpool of a watering-place life. 
 Mention was made of Lina's non-acceptance 
 of the invitation, and Pranken spoke very 
 cleverly of the pleasant impression that 
 her half-childlike, half-matronly appearance 
 made upon him. He wanted to obviate any 
 ill effects from Manna's hearing that he had 
 for a while paid court to her friend. He 
 then declared that he would take the snow- 
 white pony to Wolfsgarten with him, in or- 
 der to have it perfectly trained for Manna. 
 Her remark, that she now took no pleasure 
 on horseback, was set aside in an almost 
 authoritative way by her father, who said 
 the physician had directed only the day be- 
 fore, that Manna should keep as much as 
 possible in the open air, and take a great 
 deal of exercise. 
 
 Manna must now give a name to the 
 
 snow-white little horse. Pranken wanted 
 to have this done in due form, but Manna 
 declined. When they rose from breakfast, 
 she went to the stable, and gave to the 
 snow-white pony three lumps of sugar. 
 
 " Now for the name — the name ! " cried 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 ' ; She has given him his name," replied 
 Pranken laughing; " she has given it to him 
 bodilv. Sugar is the pony's name, is it 
 not?" _ 
 
 A smile passed over Manna's countenance 
 for the first time, as she replied, — 
 " No, we will call him • Snowdrop.' " 
 Pranken bade her good-bye with much 
 feeling, and rode away in a smart trot down 
 the road, making the sparks fly under his 
 horse's hoofs. Manna saw the groom lead- 
 ing behind him the snow-white pony by the 
 halter ; she would not be perverse, but be 
 moderate in all things. It seemed to her 
 emblematic, to ride on horseback again, 
 before she renounced all worldly trifles, 
 and lived wholly in herself and for eternal 
 realities. 
 
 Manna accompanied her father through 
 the park and garden, and through the con- 
 servatories, and thanked him heartily for 
 promising- to send to the convent beautiful 
 flowers, which could thrive well there in 
 the enclosed courtyard. Sonnenkamp had 
 it in his mind to confide to her the expected 
 elevation to the rank of the nobility, but he 
 wanted to wait for a suitable opportunity. 
 The child must not be too suddenly intro- 
 duced into the distracting whirl. He ob- 
 served with satisfaction the large southern 
 trees and plants, which were soon to be 
 brought out into the open air. At first they 
 only opened the doors in order to let in 
 the outside air, and then the plants were 
 brought out into sheltered situations out-of- 
 doors. So would he do with his child. 
 
 Manna had soon made a fixed arrange- 
 ment for the day's occupations, which she 
 adhered to as an established rule ; and this 
 methodical strictness soon exerted an influ- 
 ence over the whole family. She found it 
 difficult to deal with her mother, and chiefly 
 in the matter of dress ; for Frau Ceres, who 
 changed her dress several times a day, 
 wished Manna to do the same. But she 
 was in the habit of putting on in the morn- 
 ing the dress which she was to wear all day, 
 and was even reluctant to accept any ser- 
 vice from her own dressing-maid. She kept 
 on the morning dress, and it seemed to her 
 as the only suitable thing, and alone worthy 
 of the higher human life, that the nuns never 
 varied their dress. By this means all dis- 
 traction and waste of thought on outward 
 appearance were saved. 
 
334 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 She took no part in the beneficent activity 
 of the Professorin. She had briefly given 
 as a reason,, that she had still too much to 
 do for herself, and was not prepared to do 
 for others. 
 
 She had, moreover, a decided antipathy 
 to the assistant, Fräulein Milch. 
 
 She did not express this in words, but in 
 her whole conduct ; she avoided sneaking 
 with Fraulein Milch, and never gave her 
 hand to her. 
 
 This was the effect of Fräulein Perini's 
 teachings, who had withdrawn her from all 
 connection with Fraulein Milch before Man- 
 na had entered the convent, as if the mod- 
 est housekeeper had been a witch who could 
 do her harm. She used to say to the child : 
 
 " The whole life and character of this per- 
 son are an impropriety." 
 
 Manna took regular lessons of the Aunt 
 in harp-playing, and Aunt Claudine was 
 the only one who seemed to possess her 
 confidence. She showed her copy-books to 
 her, and particularly the astronomical ones 
 with the alternate blue leaves and the gold- 
 en pictures of the stars. 
 
 During the clear evenings, she spent 
 several hours with the Aunt upon the 'flat 
 roof of the villa, looking at the stars 
 through a telescope. It was evident that 
 Manna had been thoroughly taught ; for 
 the convent-school made a special point of 
 surpassing the worldly schools in scientific 
 instruction. Of course, all science was 
 confined within the bounds which faith pre- 
 scribes. 
 
 With all the dignified loftiness of her de- 
 meanor, there was something charmingly 
 attractive in Aunt Claudine ; she seemed to 
 have lost or renounced something in life, 
 and so there was a gentleness which more 
 completely won Manna's affection. 
 
 In the Professorin, with all her friendli- 
 ness, there was something commanding ; 
 she was self-contained, and gave without 
 ever receiving. 
 
 Aunt Claudine, on the other hand, in 
 spite of the difference of years, could be a 
 young person's friend, and Manna felt the 
 tranquillizing effect of this friendship. 
 
 Manna's maturity of thought often ex- 
 cited more surprise than even her actual 
 knowledge. Her emotional nature had been 
 widely developed ; her religious earnestness 
 and her settled religious convictions gave 
 her serene composure and elevation, which 
 might be mistaken for pride. She always 
 felt as if she were placed on an invisible 
 height, far above those who had no living 
 faith. But this was not a boastful feeling 
 of superiority ; it was a sense of being sup- 
 ported, every moment, by all the great in- 
 
 fluences and views through whose aid so 
 many holy men and women had won the 
 battle of life. 
 
 Manna took especial delight in the les- 
 sons upon the harp ; she said to the Aunt, 
 that it seemed to her as if she had never 
 heard herself before. 
 
 The Aunt explained that this was the 
 first step of progress that improvement 
 really begins when one hears and sees him- 
 self. 
 
 Manna's eyes beamed softly, and she 
 asked Aunt Claudine if this standing up 
 alone by one's self in the world had not 
 often been very hard for her. 
 
 " Certainly, my child. When one in 
 youth makes a decision that affects the 
 whole life, he does not know the real mean- 
 ing of it." 
 
 Manna grasped convulsively the cross 
 upon her bosom, and the Aunt continued : — 
 
 " Yes, my child, it requires courage and 
 energy to be an old maid ; at the time this 
 resolution is taken, one is not fully conscious 
 of how much it will require. Now, when I am 
 alone, I am contented and peaceful; but in 
 society and the world, I seem to myself often 
 so superfluous, and as if only tolerated out 
 of pity. Yes, my child, and one must take 
 care not to be compassionate and sentimen- 
 tal towards one's self, or bitter ; for the pity- 
 ing of one's self often leads to bitterness and 
 resentfulness." 
 
 "I can comprehend that," returned Man- 
 na. " Did you never have a longing to be 
 able to enter a convent ? " 
 
 " My child, I would not like to mislead 
 and disturb you." 
 
 " No, say what you please, I can hear it 
 all." 
 
 " Well, then, there are some institutions 
 productive of so much harm, that they have 
 forfeited the right of being perpetuated, at 
 least, as we regard it. And, dear child, I 
 could not, myself, live without art, without 
 secular music, without the sight of what the 
 plastic arts have produced and are still pro- 
 ducing ; herein I agree fully with my broth- 
 er." 
 
 Manna looked in amazement at the Aunt ; 
 and she had the impression that a new view 
 of life was unfolded to her, that was like 
 the religious, and yet wholly peculiar in it- 
 self. 
 
 Towards Eric's mother, Manna was re- 
 spectful but reserved. She treated her 
 brother's teacher as a member of the fam- 
 ily, but as a piece of property, an object of 
 utility, to which one could have recourse 
 whenever there was need. There were 
 hours and days when she had no more to 
 do with him than if he had been a chair or 
 
 4 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 335 
 
 a table. She often put a question to him 
 directly and naturally, if she wanted any 
 particular thing elucidated ; and as soon as 
 Eric began to expatiate beyond the special 
 topic under consideration, she would say 
 with great decision : — 
 
 " I did not want to know about that. I 
 thank you for the information you have 
 given. 1 ' 
 
 She never received any instruction for 
 which she did not immediately thank him, 
 just as she would a servant for anything 
 handed to her. 
 
 The whole family had the feeling that 
 here was a strength adequate to attain its 
 own end. 
 
 Manna did not visit in the neighborhood ; 
 she insisted upon it that she had come only 
 to be with her parents and her brother, and 
 no one else. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was alarmed at this deter- 
 mined and uncompliant bearing. 
 
 CHAPTER HI, 
 EVERYTHING FLIES THAT HAS WINGS. 
 
 Manna soon expressed a determined 
 purpose to get a better insight into the 
 method and direction of her brother's educa- 
 tion. She wanted to be present at Eric's 
 lessons. 
 
 Sonnenkamp endeavored to induce the 
 Aunt to inform Eric of this request, but she 
 declined. Manna had better ask him her- 
 self. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was deeply vexed at this 
 refusal, but Manna's resolution was taken 
 at once. She expressed her wish at the 
 table, assigning no reason, for she thought 
 that the real one might wound, and any 
 other than the real one she could not con- 
 sent to offer as a pretext. 
 
 After they had risen from the table, Eric 
 gave her the arrangement of the hours of 
 study, and declared himself ready to con- 
 form to her wishes, merely adding that he 
 should continue his instruction without any 
 reference to her presence. 
 
 Manna now sat at the window with her 
 embroidery, whilst Eric and Roland pur- 
 sued their occupations at the table. By 
 noon Manna had laid aside her work, and 
 was listening with closed eyes. The next 
 day she brought no work with her, and 
 thus she sat there day after day with the 
 two, listening with interest even to the 
 mathematics. The musical voice of Eric 
 seemed to have a magical charm for the 
 proud and cold maiden, and at many an 
 utterance she opened wide her eyes, as if 
 she must satisfy herself who this really was 
 that was speaking. 
 
 One day, however, she came only to say 
 that she should come no more. 
 
 "I could still learn a great deal from 
 you," she said, "but it is better that I 
 should keep by myself. I thank you," she 
 said again ; but as if recollecting that she 
 was continually doing this, she quickly 
 added, — 
 
 " I thank you differently from what I 
 have before. I acknowledge the delicacy 
 with which you have spared me the per- 
 plexity of answering the question I see you 
 wanted to put to me, whether I was satis- 
 fied with your instruction. It is very kind 
 not to have asked this question." 
 
 " You are good at reading countenances," 
 answered Eric. And so they parted. 
 
 From this time Manna's haughty and 
 even her confident bearing toward Eric was 
 gone ; there was a sort of shyness, and she 
 seldom spoke to him. But this want of 
 notice was something very far removed 
 from that haughty indifference with which 
 she had formerly disregarded him ; there 
 was defiance, angry resistance in her de- 
 meanor, as if she would say, I do not 
 comprehend why you are of any interest to 
 me whatever. 
 
 Manna also occasionally visited the castlo, 
 going by herself with her two dogs. She 
 had the Architect explain to her the plans 
 of this building as it was being restored, 
 and as it existed formerly. 
 
 She took an interest in the work, and 
 entered into consultation with her father in 
 regard to the fitting up of the hall already 
 finished, the so-called Knight's ball. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was busily employed in buy- 
 ing the ancient weapons to be hung upon 
 the walls, and the armor to be placed upon 
 the pillars. He could not refrain from say- 
 ing to Manna beforehand, that he intended 
 to dedicate the castle in the autumn, on her 
 birthday ; but she desired that this should 
 be omitted. This continual festivity and 
 banqueting did not suit her ; and she was 
 particularly anxious that her birthday should 
 be marked by no external celebration, even 
 of the simplest kind. 
 
 Since her return from the convent, if she 
 would honestly confess it to herself, — and 
 Manna ventured to confess all, — she had 
 taken greater pleasure in her dogs than in 
 anything else. She had even written a 
 letter to the Superior, asking whether they 
 would allow her to bring a dog with her 
 into the convent, but had burned the letter 
 afterwards. She represented to herself 
 how laughable it would be for a nun to be 
 going through the garden with a dog at her 
 heels, and how intolerable if every nun had 
 a dog of her own. She smiled to herself 
 
336 
 
 THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 for the first time, and then again asked 
 herself the question, Why do we have 
 no animals in the convent ? Eric found 
 her as she was sitting down and talking to 
 her dogs. 
 
 "Do you not think," she asked, " that a 
 dog, this one, for instance, has an unspeaka- 
 bly sad expression of face? 1 ' 
 
 " Whoever looks for it can find it. The 
 mystics say that it came from the fall of 
 man; that since then, all creatures have a 
 mournful expression." 
 
 Manna thanked him, but this time with a 
 look only, and not with words. Surprising 
 how the man can enter into every thing ! 
 And why is he still a heretic ! Why ? " 
 
 A carriage was advancing toward them, 
 and a white handkerchief was already wav- 
 ing in the distance. " Manna ! " was called 
 out ; Eric withdrew. Manna rose and went 
 to meet Lina, who got out and let the car- 
 riage drive on. 
 
 4 4 Ah ! " exclaimed Lina, " you are 
 already on such good terms with one 
 another! you need hide nothing fromme. 
 Ah, how fine ! This is right splendid ! I've 
 something to tell you about my love ; now 
 kiss me. Ah, I see you haven't kissed 
 each other yet, you don't how to kiss. 
 Just think, Manna, how simple I've been; 
 I made myself believe, at one time, that the 
 Baron von Pranken was fond of me — no, 
 that's not exactly what I meant, but I made 
 myself believe that I liked him, and now I 
 will tell you at once, that I love and I am 
 loved." 
 
 " We all love God, and we are loved by 
 him." 
 
 "Ah, yes, by God too. But Albert — 
 Do you know Albert? you must know him, 
 for he's building a castle for you. At that 
 time at the musical festival — I saw you at 
 once, and beckoned to you, but you didn't 
 observe me — that was the very first time 
 we ever came to an explanation. Ah, 
 you can't begin to think how happy I am. 
 At the beginning I couldn't take part in the 
 singing : I was afraid all the time I should 
 scream too loud ; but after that I sang with 
 the rest. Ah, it was so beautiful — so 
 beautiful ! we did nothing else but float 
 away in music; and he sings splendidly too, 
 though not so grandly as Herr Dournay. 
 Now do tell me, Manna, Iioav you felt when 
 you heard him sing so? Did you know 
 that he was the man you asked me about 
 when you had the angel-wings on your 
 shoulders." 
 
 Lina did not wait for an answer, but went 
 on : — 
 
 " You must have seen me on the shore, 
 when I met you, and I was leaning on my 
 
 Albert's arm for the first time. I didn't 
 want to speak to you there among the nuns 
 and scholars ; I shouldn't have been able to 
 tell you all there. You don't take it amiss 
 that I didn't appear to see you ? Ah, I saw 
 everybody, the whole world at once ! Ah, 
 and all was so splendid ! And at the table 
 there 'twas so merry ! And once he asked 
 me why I seemed all at once so sad. Then 
 I confessed to him that I was thinking of 
 you, how you were going back again to the 
 convent, where 'twas so silent and so dull. 
 I think the corridors have all got a cold. 
 Ah, why can't you be as merry as we ? Do 
 be merry ! There's nothing better in the 
 world, and you've got all, and can have all 
 in the world. Oh, do be merry ! Ah, there 
 flies a swallow, the first swallow. Oh, if I 
 could only fly in that way up to him at the 
 castle, and bid him good-morning, and keep 
 flying to him and flying away again. Ah, 
 Manna ! Manna ! " 
 
 It was very odd to her to see and hear this 
 joyous, fluttering youthful companion ; she 
 could say nothing in response, and Lina did 
 not seem to expect her to say anything, for 
 she continued : 
 
 " So I was thinking as I was coming here, 
 that if I were you, I'd issue an order or 
 something of that sort to the whole country 
 round, that in three days they should bring 
 me all the birds they could catch, and I'd 
 pay them an awful amount of money for 
 doing it, and then I'd let all the birds fly 
 away again up into the air. Don't you feel 
 as if you were a bird that had been caught, 
 and had got free again ? Ah, and it's smart 
 in you to come in the spring ; there's too 
 much dancing to be done, if you come home 
 in the winter. Fourteen balls I went to, 
 the first winter, and ever so many small 
 parties. And if one then has her sweet- 
 heart — Ah, Manna, you can't think how 
 beautiful that is ! or perhaps you do know 
 now* I beg you do tell me every thing. I 
 am not yet betrothed to Albert, but we are 
 as good as betrothed. You won't be a nun, 
 will you ? Believe what I say, they don't 
 want you for a nun at all, they are only after 
 your money. Would you like to be a bar- 
 oness ? I shouldn't. To be " my lady'd " 
 all the time when there's no need of it, and 
 then to be laughed at behind one's back ; 
 no, I shouldn't like it at all. If a born lady 
 does anything foolish, there's nothing to be 
 said ; but if one of us commits a folly, hi ! 
 the whole city and the whole land has to 
 bear the blame of it. Ah, such a rich girl 
 has a good deal to suffer for it ! Here 
 come the men and want to marry her money, 
 and here come the nuns and want her to 
 become a nun for her money. You may be 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 337 
 
 sure, if you were one of those women yonder 
 carrying coals out of the boat, the nuns 
 wouldn't have you ; you might be as clever, 
 and as lovable, and as good as you are now. 
 Yes, if you hadn't any money, and if you 
 hadn't so much money, the nuns wouldn't 
 want to have anything to do with you. 
 Don't they try to make you believe that I 
 you've been called to be a saint ? D.on't 
 believe it. Ah, in the convent ! When I 
 hear people telling how beautiful it was 
 there on the convent-island, I've always 
 thought : Yes indeed, right pretty, if one 
 only goes there on a pleasure excursion ; 
 but to be a nun there ! — Ah, Manna, if I 
 could only make you as happy as I am ! 
 Do be jolly too ! Ah, good heavens, why 
 can't one give to another some of his enjoy- 
 ment ; I've so much — so much, and I should 
 like most dearly to give some of it to you. 
 But what do we talk so much for? Come, 
 catch me ! Do you remember our old play : 
 4 Everything flies that has wings 1 ? Come, 
 catch me ! " 
 
 Lina ran off with fluttering garments, and 
 when she stopped saw that Manna had not 
 followed her. She waited until she came 
 up, and the two maidens walked in silence 
 to the villa. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 " THROUGH THE NEW DOOR." 
 
 Lina staid with Manna, so that she was 
 unable to shake off her school-friend. When 
 they went together to church, if Manna said, 
 going and returning, that she. would rather 
 not talk in the morning, then Lina insisted 
 that Manna need not say anything, she 
 would do all the talking herself. She chatted 
 about everything that came into her mind, 
 things past and things to come. 
 
 As soon as she woke up she ran through 
 the gamut, then ran trilling through the 
 house, and almost every hour of the day, 
 when there was no caller and they were 
 within doors, she sat at the piano in the 
 music saloon, singing and playing inces- 
 santly, mixing up serious and melancholy, 
 classic and modern music, no matter what, 
 so that it made sound enough. She would 
 follow up one of Pergolese's mournful dirges 
 with a merry Tyrolese carol. 
 
 The whole house was entirely changed by 
 Lina's presence, and at the table there was 
 a great deal of laughter. In cherry time 
 the hot-houses at Villa Eden already sup- 
 plied early apples ; and Lina had the habit 
 of never peeling an apple, but biting into 
 it whole, congratulating herself that she 
 could do it without being reprimanded by 
 her mother. She paid no regard to Son- 
 
 nenkamp's reproving look ; she was an in- 
 dependent girl, doing recklessly whatever 
 she fancied, and so accustomed to being 
 scolded, that she had become hardened to 
 it. 
 
 Lina ate heartily, like a good healthy peas- 
 ant girl, while Manna ate as if it were a 
 matter of compulsion. Lina took pleasure 
 in eating, and was hungry all the time. She 
 could always take something, she said of 
 herself, and if anything at the table had a 
 particularly good relish, she would say : — 
 
 "Aren't you glad, Manna, that you've 
 got rid of that convent food? Ah, my first 
 meal at home was a new experience to me, 
 and here you have very nice things." 
 
 She also liked a glass of wine, and was 
 rallied on that account. She begged Eric 
 to defend her, and he replied : — 
 
 "That's easily done. It's a romantic 
 absurdity to look upon it as a fine thing 
 for a girl not to take pleasure in eating and 
 drinking ; and drinking wine is assuredly 
 not an unfeminine act. Isn't drinking wine 
 a much pleasanter thing to see than eating 
 meat, nourishing one's self with* animal 
 food?" 
 
 Everybody laughed except Manna, who 
 looked at Eric with an unmoved face. 
 Strange how this man gives a surprising 
 turn to every thought, and induces surpris- 
 ing turns of thought in other people ! 
 
 Manna felt as if she were driven out of 
 the house by Lina's presence. 
 
 Only at Frau Dournay's, for whom Lina 
 entertained a holy awe, could Manna get 
 any time for being alone ; she felt herself 
 in concealment when she fled to the green 
 cottage, and by this means she came nearer 
 to the Professorin, almost in spite of her- 
 self. Her uniform serenity of soul, her 
 never-failing willingness to devote herself 
 to others, were perceived by Manna, and 
 she was startled at hearing her say, — 
 
 " You wanted to make a request of me, 
 dear child. Why do you hold back ? " 
 
 " I, a request ? What request ? " 
 
 " You would like that Lina should come 
 here, but you avoid acknowledging this to 
 me and to her. If you will honestly confess 
 to me that you would like this, I will ar- 
 range the matter." 
 
 Manna confessed that she had not had 
 the courage to express her wish. 
 
 By the next day Lina was settled at the 
 cottage with the Professorin, and there she 
 was merry as a cricket, and enlivened the 
 whole house with her cheerfulness, and her 
 fresh bubbling gaiety alone. Wherever she 
 was, walking, standing, or sitting, she sang 
 to herself like a bird on the branch, and the 
 breasts of the hearers were refreshed. The 
 
338 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Aunt played an accompaniment for her 
 songs, and the clear, bell-like tone of her 
 voice was full of fresh health and bright joy. 
 She sang without the least effort, and her 
 love added a tone of deep feeling to her 
 singing, which one would not have supposed 
 she possessed. 
 
 She was perfectly undisciplined, but she 
 was very particular about her dress, espec- 
 ially since she had been in love, and she 
 liked to look at herself in the glass. But 
 to bother herself about the inner life, — 
 "That's not my style," was her uniform 
 manner of speaking. She lived her own 
 life, was a Catholic, because she was born 
 so, and it was too much trouble to make 
 any change. She laughed, sang and danced ; 
 yesterday is gone, and to-morrow will look 
 out for itself. Amongst all these persons 
 who bore a heavy burden in their souls, 
 who were imposing some heavy task upon 
 themselves, Lina was the only light-hearted 
 child of nature ; and she was regarded by 
 those who looked upon her rather with en- 
 vious than contemptuous eyes. 
 
 ' 1 Ah ! could one but be like her ! " sighed 
 each one in his own way. 
 
 Lina, gradually, became less demonstra- 
 tive and excitable through the quiet in- 
 fluence of the Professorin. It gave her 
 pleasure to be able to understand a great 
 deal of what the Professorin said ; but there 
 were many things beyond her comprehen- 
 sion. What does it matter ? One must 
 not take all there is in the dish, — one must 
 leave something for others. 
 
 It was beantiful to see Manna coming in 
 her bright summer dress through the park 
 to the cottage. But she manifested to the 
 Professorin only a respectful confidence ; 
 she always addressed her as Madame, and 
 spoke to her in French, the language she 
 had been accustomed to use at the convent. 
 To all questions she gave direct answers. 
 
 " Had you any particular friend at the 
 convent ? " the Professorin once asked. 
 
 "No, it is not allowed. One must not 
 show any special affection, but treat all 
 with an equal love." 
 
 " If it would not weary you, I should like 
 to ask another question." 
 
 " Oh, you do not weary me in the least. 
 I like to talk of the convent better than any 
 thing else ; I think of it ail the time. Ask 
 what you please." 
 
 " Had you a particularly confidential re- 
 lation with any one of the ladies ? " 
 
 Manna mentioned the name of the Su- 
 perior, and was greatly surprised to hear 
 the Professorin extol the beauty of such a 
 life as hers; that there could be nothing 
 
 more blissful than to confer peace and joy 
 upon young children, to aid them to become 
 strong, to overcome the trials of existence. 
 It was a Life that death could not change, 
 and in which the sorrow of parting and 
 absence could never be known. 
 
 The Professorin repeated that she should 
 regard it as a crime, to say a single word 
 that should shake a soul desiring to devote 
 itself to such a life. 
 
 "Dear child, thou hast chosen the right 
 path according to thy light." 
 
 Manna bowed, and she seemed transfig- 
 ured. It did not occur to her that the 
 Professorin had spoken to her all at once 
 so affectionately. But now she shrank into 
 herself with alarm. Is this not one of the 
 temptations ? Does not this woman praise 
 her, enter into her utmost soul, in order to 
 win her over and seduce her from the faith ? 
 A glance of suspicion shot from those youth- 
 ful eyes upon the elderly lady. And yet 
 Manna returned, again and again, to the 
 Professorin, as is if she were fleeing from 
 something, and could find concealment only 
 there. 
 
 Frau Dournay's uniform serenity of soul, 
 her perpetual willingness to devote herself 
 to the service of others, had a magnetic at- 
 traction for her, and before she was aware 
 of it, she formed more intimate relations, 
 and became more confidential with the Pro- 
 fessorin than she had ever believed possible. 
 
 The struggle and the vacillation of the 
 girl's young heart were revealed first of all 
 to the Professorin. As they were sitting 
 once in the garden, having fortunately de- 
 clined to go with Lina, Roland, and Eric, 
 on an excursion upon the Rhine, Manna 
 said, looking timidly around, — 
 
 " Why should it be a sin to take delight 
 in nature ? Is not joy itself a sort of devo- 
 tion ? " 
 
 The Professorin making no reply, Man- 
 na said with pressing earnestness : — 
 
 " Do speak, I entreat you." 
 
 "A writer," replied she, "whom you 
 do not probably revere as we do, has said : 
 God loves better to see a heart filled with 
 joy than with sorrow." 
 
 " What's the man's name ? " 
 
 " Gotthold Lessing." 
 
 Manna requested to have the passage 
 pointed out. The Professorin brought the 
 book, and from that time there was a free 
 interchange of thought between them. The 
 Professorin continued very cautious in her 
 remarks, and repeated that she should look 
 upon it as a sacrilege to deprive a believing 
 heart of its religious convictions. 
 
 Manna declared that she was strong 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 339 
 
 enough to enter into the thoughts of the 
 children of the world, as they are termed, 
 without getting lost herself. 
 
 The Professorin repeatedly warned and 
 advised her, but she insisted that she had 
 returned to the world in order to perceive 
 what it had to proffer to her, and then to 
 renounce all freely. She expressed a firm 
 determination not to become Pranken's wife, 
 in fact, not to be married at all. She came 
 very near disclosing to the Professorin, that 
 she wanted to devote herself as an expiatory 
 sacrifice, not from compulsion, but, through 
 heavenly grace, freely renouncing all the 
 delights of the world. 
 
 " To you, 11 said Manna, with tearful eyes, 
 "I could tell all." 
 
 It would have required only a single 
 word, one encouraging appeal, and Manna 
 would have told everything to the Mother. 
 But she earnestly entreated not to be made 
 the repository of any secret ; not because 
 she could not keep it faithfully, but it would 
 be a burden to her, and she should never 
 feel at peace if she should divert a being 
 formed to live in the purest sphere from oc- 
 cupying her true place. She spoke very 
 guartledly, choosing her words carefully, 
 for Manna must not have the least suspicion 
 that she also was hiding a secret ; she 
 simply let it be understood that she favored 
 the maiden's resolution to take the veil. 
 
 Something of Sonnenkamp's nature seemed 
 awakened in Manna's soul. Was this wo- 
 man encouraging her only in order to gain 
 a firmer hold upon her ? But then, as she 
 looked up into the quiet, calm face of the 
 Mother, she felt impelled to fall upon her 
 neck and beg her forgiveness for having 
 had such unjust thoughts of her. The Pro- 
 fessorin saw the conflict in the child, but 
 gave it a different interpretation ; she had 
 no suspicion that distrust of the worst kind 
 was felt by Manna. 
 
 As Manna passed through the new door 
 on her way home through the meadows, 
 she suddenly stood still. Here she had 
 stood on the first morning, here had the 
 thought darted through her soul that she 
 must often pass through this gateway, over 
 this path, engaged in deep struggles, and 
 I contending for victory. This foreboding 
 had now been realized. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 BE LED INTO TEMPTATION. 
 
 Manna went regularly to church, and 
 prayed with constant and unchanging fer- 
 vor, but a peculiar shyness held her back 
 from the parsonage. She said constantly 
 to herself that the Priest himself had told 
 
 her that it would be well to avoid seeing 
 him for a time, till she had become familiar 
 with her new life. 
 
 Often, in the midst of conversation with 
 the Professorin, a fear came over her that 
 she was binding herself too closely to the life 
 of another, and she felt that she must regain 
 her power of looking beyond all the varying 
 phenomena of the world. She at last came 
 to the determination to go to the Priest, to 
 whom she began to explain and excuse her 
 long absence ; but he interrupted her mildly, 
 saying that she need tell him nothing, he 
 had read her soul, and believed that he 
 understood her feelings ; she must appear 
 to herself, like a person who, returning to 
 earth after his departure from it, watches 
 the actions of men, their restless days and 
 nights of painful dreams, their attempts to 
 satisfy or to benumb the conscience. 
 
 He impressed it upon her that she ought 
 to judge people gently ; the worst sinners in- 
 deed were those who believed they knew 
 what they were doing, and it was most diffi- 
 cult to pardon them ; but if we take the 
 highest views, these were the ones who most 
 needed forgiveness, because, in spite of 
 what they say, they really do not know 
 what they do, and we can always say of 
 them, Lord, forgive them. There is noth- 
 ing left for us, but silently to pray for their 
 salvation, imploring the merciful Father to 
 grant them redemption. 
 
 Without mentioning any name, he then 
 went on to represent to her that there are 
 some people, who, with outward piety and 
 self-complacency, perform so-called good 
 works, and borrow holy words for the ex- 
 pression of thoughts far removed from what 
 is really divine. 
 
 He thus described the Professorin with- 
 out naming her. 
 
 Then he delineated others, who, full of 
 knowledge, swerve constantly from the 
 central truth, and who, without having any 
 fixed goal of their own, imagine that they 
 are able to lead others. 
 
 Thus he delineated Eric. 
 
 With the greatest caution he painted the 
 men *of the world, who wish to force the 
 Lord of heaven and earth to show them fa- 
 vor, and who with their scoffs banish all hu- 
 mility. He openly named as examples 
 Doctor Richard and the Weidmann circle, 
 but at the same time he had Sonnenkamp 
 in view, but the daughter must make this 
 application for herself. 
 
 Manna listened eagerly. As she looked 
 out of the window, her eyes rested on her 
 father's house, with the park and garden, 
 and it seemed to her as if they must all be 
 overwhelmed, the waters surge up from the 
 
340 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Rhine, the everlasting floods submerge the 
 earth, and only here in this room is the ark 
 of safety. 
 
 Timidly, hardly breathing the words aloud, 
 she mournfully asked why the task of re- 
 turning into lile was laid upon her. 
 
 The Priest gently consoled her, telling 
 her that, as an eye which must soon close, 
 to open again in eternity, watched from this 
 window over all which passed below in the 
 valley, so an unchanging eye was watching 
 over her ; she must enter the tumult without 
 fear, having within her thoughts which 
 looked down upon it all from a lofty height 
 of their own. This was the real trial spec- 
 ially laid upon her. 
 
 He went farther, and charged Manna not 
 to come to him again for a long time ; she 
 was to remain away for weeks and months, 
 that she might gain strength within herself; 
 she was to be fettered by no external bond, 
 not even that of making stated visits to him, 
 but all was to depend on her own free, 
 steadfast, independent will ; leaning upon 
 herself, with no outward support, she was 
 to conquer all temptations. 
 
 Manna asked hesitatingly, why the Priest 
 had not taken upon himself the wide-ex- 
 tending benevolent work, which the Profes- 
 sorin was now commissioned by her father 
 to carry on. 
 
 "Why?" exclaimed the Priest, with a 
 flash in his usually quiet eye. " We cannot 
 take what is not given to us ; they must 
 learn that this so-called benevolence, with- 
 out the blessing of the Church, becomes 
 absolutely null, and I command you to have 
 nothing to do with it, for you cannot enter 
 into such a fellowship.'" 
 
 Manna was much startled when the Priest 
 told her that he did not consider her fitted 
 to take the veil, that it would be better for 
 her to be Pranken's wife. 
 
 The color mounted to Manna's face, and 
 she moved her hands as if warding off a 
 blow ; she opened her mouth, but could not 
 utter a word. 
 
 " It is well," said the Priest, soothingly, 
 " it is well if you can conquer this^too, but 
 we do not call you, we do not beguile you ; 
 you must come at your own call, and follow 
 your own leading. People will whisper to 
 you, The parsons, for so they call us, 
 have misled you with most cunning wiles. 
 You must remember, the sun shining down 
 upon us bears witness that I have urged you 
 not to renounce the world entirely. If you 
 cannot do otherwise, if you feel an impera- 
 tive call, then you will be welcome to us ; 
 not otherwise, not even with all your 
 wealth." 
 
 The Priest had arisen, and was walking 
 
 up and down the room with hasty strides. 
 A long pause ensued ; he stood at the win- 
 dow, looking out, while Manna sat trembling 
 on the sofa. The Priest turned towards 
 her, saying, — 
 
 " You see what esteem we feel for you, 
 when we leave all to your own strength, 
 the strength of faith and of renunciation 
 within you ; hold firmly to that, and let us 
 speak freely and calmly to each other. Do 
 you not think this Herr Dournay a most at- 
 tractive man? Speak to me as openly and 
 sincerely as you would to yourself." 
 
 " I don't yet know what to think. I am 
 inclined to believe that there is something 
 in him which might make him a noble in- 
 strument of the Holy Spirit." 
 
 " Ah! is that your feeling? Thank you 
 for being so honest and unreserved. That 
 is the wonderful art of the tempter, that he 
 can assume the purest form ; with a pretence 
 of duty and the hope of Conversion he can so 
 tempt the poor child of humanity, that it 
 does not notice that it has already fallen 
 into evil. This then is the shape he takes 
 for you ? I advise you, yes, I require it of 
 you, I command you, to attempt to change 
 this false coin into true metal. Try it, it is 
 your duty; and if you succeed, you are 
 greater than I thought, and if you fail, you 
 are cured for ever. The ways of Providence 
 are wise v which have brought this man to 
 you, and planted the thought of his conver- 
 sion in your heart ; you are bound, for the 
 sake of his salvation and your own, to make 
 the attempt and to persevere in it. Look 
 out of doors ! it is springtime, everything 
 seems thriving and blooming in security ; 
 but the day will come when the tempest, 
 will burst forth, rending the branches and 
 tearing up the roots, and so it must be. 
 What is planted in you must be tried by the 
 storm of temptation, with all its .fine and 
 cunning wiles ; it must be tossed hither and 
 thither till it is all but uprooted — not till 
 then will you be strong." 
 
 Again the Priest strode up and down with 
 heavy steps. Manna knew not what to say, 
 nor how she was to leave this room, and go 
 back again into the sight of men who were 
 to be to her as shadows, as forms assumed 
 by the tempter. 
 
 The Priest turned towards her, and said 
 gently, — 
 
 " Now go, go, my daughter. And God 
 be with thee." 
 
 He gave her his blessing, and Manna 
 went. With a conflict in her heart, strain- 
 ing her powers to look at life as a spectacle, 
 as a temptation which she must not avoid, 
 she devoted herself to those around her, and 
 no one suspected why she was so cheerful 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 341 
 
 and ready to be induced to take part ini 
 every kind of merriment. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 ANOTHER SPIRE BUILT. 
 
 The Mother was the only one who sus- 
 pected that any change was going on in 
 Eric ; he became peculiarly reserved, even 
 shy. Instead of his former communicative- 
 ness, he was now very careful of what he 
 said, especially in Manna's presence, as if 
 he felt himself near one whose serenity must 
 not be troubled. 
 
 But this change in Eric's demeanor soon 
 attracted the notice of another observer who 
 kept a keener watch. Bella came to call 
 upon her future sister-in-law. She was 
 very confidential towards Manna ; she had | 
 the habit of putting her arm round the waist 
 of girls whom she liked, and towards whom 
 she desired to be gracious, and promenad- 
 ing with them in this affectionate way ; but 
 whenever she attempted this with Manna, 
 the latter always made a movement as if she 
 would shake her off, and finally told her, in 
 so many words, that she disliked it. Bella 
 smiled, but she was inwardly vexed. In 
 this house, in this garden, she must en- 
 counter such rebuffs as she had never be- 
 lieved possible. But outwardly there was 
 no trace that her feelings were hurt, al- 
 though it required her utmost exertion to 
 remain composed. 
 
 With an easy turn of the conversation, 
 she asked Eric if he now had another pupil. 
 
 Eric answered her in the same light tone, 
 that Manna had already completed her ed- 
 ucation. 
 
 Bella nodded pleasantly. 
 
 The formal visit to Manna was now over ; 
 and when she excused herself for not re- 
 turning it, saying that it was her purpose to 
 visit nowhere, Bella made a friendly call 
 upon the Mother and the Aunt. She went 
 back to Wolfsgarten with the resolution to 
 give, hereafter, the go-by to this house and 
 all its inmates. Otto wanted to marry a wife 
 from it, and that was his affair ; but she be- 
 lieved that she ought to'call his attention to 
 the fact, that in the mutual reserve of Man- 
 na and Erie there was the germ of a deeper 
 feeling. Pranken replied with a spice of 
 maliciousness, that the family tutor was not 
 half so dangerous as he appeared to his 
 sister, especially not to one whose char- 
 acter was grounded in religious conviction. 
 
 Pranken made frequent visits to Villa, 
 Eden, and always enlivened its inmates. But 
 it did not escape Manna's penetrating obser- 
 vation, thafr he was an artisan, but not an 
 artist ; he displayed much clever ingenuity, 
 
 I but had no productive genius, and was un- 
 stable and impulsive. This was especially 
 noticeable when Eric was present. 
 
 Pranken was never at a loss in uttering 
 some pointed remark, but he could not 
 carry on a discussion ; novel propositions 
 bewildered him, and he had no pertinent 
 observations to bring forward, whilst Eric 
 became more inspirited and more original 
 by the presentation of opposing thoughts 
 and new statements. 
 
 Eric was always the same from morning 
 to night, while Pranken was a different be- 
 ing in the evening from what he was in the 
 morning. In the morning he was obliged 
 to rouse himself; he was tired, heavy, low- 
 spirited ; at evening he was lively, dashing, 
 and full of energy. He often seemed lan- 
 guid and spiritless ; and being aware of this, 
 he was stimulated to exertion. There was 
 always an element of disquiet in intercourse 
 with him, and under an appearance of 
 friendliness there was almost always a la- 
 tent bitter hostility. He thought now, too, 
 that he could discover an understanding be- 
 tween Eric and Manna. 
 
 Both Manna and Eric thought more of 
 the universal, of the purely ideal, than they 
 did of the personal ; in her, this proceeded 
 from the religious, and in him, from the 
 philosophical element. In the beginning, 
 Manna had held herself aloof from him with 
 a sort of defiance, even with a positive an- 
 tagonism ; but gradually she came to per- 
 ceive the inviolable truthfulness of his whole 
 being. When Pranken was engaged in ar- 
 gument, he asserted what he had to say as 
 if it were incontrovertible ; while Eric, on 
 the other hand, often replied : — 
 
 " I should like to be allowed first to state 
 the question ; for the best thing we can do 
 in order to arrive at some actual result, is, 
 to state the question sharply and definitely." 
 " And," he added, laughing, " the old phil- 
 osopher, Epictetus, has designated ' asking 
 the right questions and exercising forbear- 
 ance ' as the very essence of philosophy." 
 
 " Who is Epictetus ? " Manna would ask ; 
 and while Eric briefly gave an account of 
 the life of this stoic, a slave, who had be- 
 come a philosopher and taught after the 
 manner of Socrates, adding some reflections 
 of his own, Manna was alarmed to see how 
 fully she agreed with him ; her gods were 
 different, but their devotional spirit was the 
 same. 
 
 Pranken was jealous when he saw Manna 
 deeply interested in Eric's expositions, and 
 often tried to make him expose his heretical 
 sentiments, so that he might become abhor- 
 rent to Manna. 
 
 There was frequently a sort of tourna- 
 
342 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ment in which they took part, and Manna 
 sat, as it were, upon a dais to crown the 
 victor. In such a state of feeling, it easily 
 happens that insignificant circumstances be- 
 come the starting point of a life and death 
 contest. And this was the case one day, 
 when Pranken related in a merry way that 
 to-day was a bona fide pilgrimage of the 
 whole country to the railroad station, for 
 they were expecting, by the evening train, 
 the list of those who had drawn prizes in 
 the Cathedral lottery ; and all the poor 
 people, the servants, male and female, the 
 vine-dressers, the quarry men, and the boat- 
 men, were each one of them hoping to get 
 the first prize. Manna had it on her lips 
 to say that she had given money to Claus 
 in order to redeem his ticket, but, before 
 she could do it, Eric, unable to restrain 
 himself, cried out : — ■ 
 
 " This lottery is an atrocity, a disgrace 
 to our age." 
 
 " What's that ? What do you say ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I was hasty," said 
 Eric, trying to divert the subject. 
 
 But Manna asked : — 
 
 " May we not know what your objection 
 is?" 
 
 "I would rather not state it." 
 
 Manna's face flushed. This man, she 
 thought, is also a heretic in regard to social 
 institutions ! But she quickly composed 
 herself, and continued quietly : — 
 
 It ought not to be a matter of indiffer- 
 ence to you to be regarded as open to the 
 charge of being unjust." 
 
 " Herr Captain," Pranken said, coming 
 to her help, "would you favor us so far 
 as to give us your view ? It would be very 
 kind of you if you would instruct us, and 
 give us at length your objections." Then 
 turning to Manna, he said in a low tone : — 
 
 " Take notice, this will be the order of 
 his discourse. First, he declines to speak, 
 like a singer who is urged to sing in com- 
 pany ; then he asks pardon for his novel 
 views ; next comes a condescending defini- 
 tion ; after that a citation from Professor 
 Hamlet, to be succeeded by a moral burst 
 of indignation, and every one who thinks 
 otherwise is an idiot or a knave ; and finally, 
 when you think now is the grand finale, he 
 adds something else, and winds up with a 
 trill." 
 
 Erie perceived that he was to be irritated 
 and goaded on, but he had self-control 
 enough to say to himself: I will not be 
 driven over the barriers. With quiet de- 
 liberation he proceeded to say : — 
 
 " First of all, I beg you would remem- 
 ber that Catholic as well as Protestant 
 
 cathedrals are to be completed by this 
 horrible and no longer unusual means." 
 
 " And. why so horrible ? " asked Manna, 
 
 '_'Yes, go on, go on!" urged Pranken, 
 as if he were flourishing his horse-whip. 
 
 "Allow me to take more time," answered 
 Eric ; "I must take a longer spring." 
 
 " Proceed ! proceed ! " said Pranken 
 sharply, twirling the ends of his moustache. 
 
 "The largest cathedrals," Eric began 
 by saying, "are unfinished; quiet in the 
 lap of earth rest thousands and tens of thou- 
 sand hands which devotion once moved to 
 dig the stone, to raise, and lay, and chisel 
 them. Careless and thoughtless enough, 
 undoubtedly, were the workmen, but they 
 were set in motion by devout feeling, the 
 feeling of those who poured out the money, 
 and those who superintended the work, de- 
 siring to build a house of God. But listen 
 to the cry now : You servant-man, you ser- 
 vant-girl, you journeyman, come here ! 
 here's a lottery ticket — only one dollar to 
 pay — you can make so much by it, and 
 help build a church besides ! How can the 
 holy Word be devoutly proclaimed in a 
 building erected by an appeal to the covet- 
 ousness of men? You smile. You think, 
 perhaps, that it does no harm to the servant- 
 man and servant-girl to lose the dollar; but 
 I ask if it's no harm to their souls to be 
 hoping for prizes in the lottery ? And sup- 
 pose a schedule of the lottery were laid in 
 the corner-stone of the new building. Fu- 
 ture generations would have harder work 
 to decipher these figures, than we with the 
 remains of the lake-dwellers. What sort 
 of a race was this, they would say, which 
 built a church with the profits of a lottery ? 
 Tetzel's hawking of indulgences was far less 
 objectionable, for then they paid money for 
 the pardon of their sins ; the motive was a 
 moral one, however much they may have 
 been in error. But here " 
 
 " I had thought," Sonnenkamp interrupt- 
 ed, " that you considered beauty, the com- 
 pletion of the beautiful structure, as a suf- 
 ficiently moral motive, just as any pagan 
 would." 
 
 " I thank you for this suggestion, for it 
 brings me to the point, to state it briefly, 
 that it is a contradiction to make use of 
 unholy means for a holy end, and nothing 
 incongruous is truly beautiful." 
 
 Sonnenkamp was exceedingly charmed 
 with this exposition, but Pranken, who saw 
 that his prpphecy in regard to the way in 
 which Eric would proceed was altogether 
 falsified, held his moustache thoughtfully 
 between his fingers, and contracted his 
 brows. He was stirred up, and doubly so, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 343 
 
 when be saw that Manna looked very atten- 
 tive and serious. He would have been be- 
 side himself if he could have imagined 
 what were her thoughts. 
 
 This heretic, Eric, would not have been 
 able to reach a single dogma of her belief, 
 with all his philosophy, for this was no lever 
 with which to move the solid rock ; but in 
 this assault upon an apparently incidental 
 matter, her confidence was shaken in the 
 perfect moral beauty of the measures of those 
 who were the representatives of the Spirit 
 in the world. Everything ' which concerned 
 religion was in her view fixed and unalter- 
 able, and just this thing troubled Manna, 
 this insignificant trifle, that their object was 
 money. She despised money, she regarded 
 it as a dangerous enemy, and " money — 
 money ! " echoed and re-echoed within her. 
 " Is gold the temptation ? " 
 
 Pranken hastily summoned up his ener- 
 gies to say : — 
 
 "It strikes me as inconsiderate or im- 
 modest — excuse me if I do not use just the 
 right word — I mean, he who is an unbe- 
 liever should not attack another's belief. 11 
 
 " Should we not ? 11 replied Eric. " And 
 still we are attacked. Humility is a virtue. 
 Very true ; and it is the virtue of a state of . 
 siege. We still stammer at the word of 
 salvation. But is the child who cannot yet i 
 speak, 'on that account not to make known i 
 his wishes by cries ? Lofty and noble to 
 us is the religion of love, but love cannot ! 
 be commanded, love is the genius of the I 
 heart ; on the other hand, kindness, regard, < 
 active help can be commanded and guided ; I 
 love, never. The great command, Love ' 
 thy neighbor as thyself, has become hypoc- ' 
 risy ; it is said, I love my neighbor, but I 
 have nothing to do for him. Our doctrine 1 
 says, Help thy neighbor as thyself. Love 
 is a sort of musical susceptibility which can 
 be counterfeited, but lielp cannot be. There- : 
 fore we apply more broadly the command, 
 and say, Help thy neighbor as thyself, i 
 And you must do it yourself; for we stand ■ 
 upon the fundamental principle that there < 
 is no substitution in the realm of moral ac- 
 tivity, and here it is the primal law that j 
 every one shall do guard-duty for him- ] 
 self. 11 ] 
 
 " YouVe said that once before, 11 Pranken - 
 interposed. 
 
 "True, and I shall often repeat it. I i 
 think that we have as good a right as our : 
 opponents, who are not always uttering 
 some new truth. The sunlight of to-day is i 
 like that of yesterday 11 
 
 Here Roland burst in breathless, crying : 
 " Eric, you must come at once, the field- 
 guard is here ; he is like a crazy man, and 
 
 ■ he says that you only can decide, and you 
 
 ■ alone shall decide. 11 
 L " What has happened ? 11 
 
 " Sevenpiper has drawn the grand prize, 
 i and Claus says that the money belongs- to 
 him. Come, he's like one raving mad. 11 
 Eric went down to the courtyard. 
 There sat Claus upon a dog-kennel, and 
 looked dolefully up at Eric and Roland. 
 He spoke so thick and confusedly, that they 
 could not make out distinctly what he meant ; 
 this only was plain, that Sevenpiper had 
 drawn the prize, and Claus asserted that it 
 belonged to him. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, Pranken, and Manna also 
 made their appearance on the steps, and 
 now Claus screamed out that Manna must 
 bear testimony to having given him the 
 money for the ticket, and he had simply 
 forgotten to redeem it. 
 
 Eric quieted Claus, and promised to go 
 with him to Sevenpiper. He asked permis- 
 sion of Sonnenkamp to have the horses har- 
 nessed. Roland was urgent to accompany 
 him. Claus took a seat with the coachman 
 on the box, and so they drove to the village 
 to Sevenpiper's house. 
 
 They met the cooper in front of the house, 
 and he told Eric that Sevenpiper had just 
 turned him out of it. He said that he was 
 in love with Sevenpiper's oldest daughter, 
 and that this attachment had met the appro- 
 val of the parents on both sides ; but now 
 Sevenpiper had shown him the door, saying 
 that he could obtain a better match for his 
 daughter, and that most assuredly he would 
 not marry her to the son of Claus, who 
 wanted to claim his property before the 
 world. 
 
 " Is^ true, father, that the prize belonged 
 to you ? 11 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; and it belongs to me still." 
 "So! Now I understand all about it," 
 said the cooper, taking his departure. 
 
 In the house of Sevenpiper the new- 
 comers found everything in confusion ; the 
 oldest daughter was weeping, and the other 
 children were running over one another. 
 
 They became quieted at last, and Seven- 
 piper said that he was not going to allow 
 himself to be driven out of his wits ; anyhow 
 he would no longer be a day-laborer in the 
 vineyard ; he would just do nothing for a 
 year, and then he would see what he would 
 take hold of. The children screamed and 
 shouted in all sorts of ways, and Sevenpiper 
 tried to make them sing, but not one of 
 them was willing ; all that was past and gone 
 forever. 
 
 Eric bad induced Claus to wait outside 
 the house ; he now told them what the field- 
 guard wanted. 
 
344 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 As soon as he made known this desire, 
 Sevenpiper raised the window and cried 
 out to his former comrade standing in the 
 road : — 
 
 " If you don't clear out from here, and if 
 you claim a single red cent from me, I'll 
 break every bone in your carcass. Now 
 you know what to expect ! .Off with you ! 11 
 
 No appeal was of any use ; Sevenpiper 
 insisted upon it, that he would not give 
 Claus as much as he could put into his eye. 
 
 Roland and Eric went away exceedingly 
 cast down. They came to the house of 
 Claus, who was asleep on the bench. His 
 wife lamented that he had come home very 
 drunk, and that the cooper was half-crazed. 
 
 Neither could Eric and Roland be of any 
 assistance here. 
 
 On the way home, Roland seized Eric's 
 hand and said : — 
 
 ' ' Money ! money ! How speedily it can 
 ruin people ! 11 
 
 Eric made no reply, and Roland contin- 
 ued : — "I never heard that there were any 
 lotteries in America. You see, Eric, this 
 is something that we have wholly to our- 
 selves." 
 
 In silence, inwardly disturbed, they 
 reached the villa. There seemed to be 
 some ghost stalking abroad, for they could 
 not shake off the remembrance that the de- 
 mon of sudden riches had ruined two fami- 
 lies ; and immediately on waking the next 
 morning, Roland said : — 
 
 " I should like to know how Claus and 
 Sevenpiper will feel this morning, when 
 they wake up." 
 
 A messenger was sent to the village, and 
 they were gratified to hear that the two 
 families were getting along comfortably 
 again ; but the eldest daughter of Seven- 
 piper had left her parents 1 house, and had 
 gone to the field-guard's. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE FIRST RIDE. 
 
 Manna was extremely gracious towards 
 everybody, and no one would have suspected 
 that this graciousness had pride for its basis. 
 Every one appeared to her so poor, so for- 
 lorn, so trammelled ! Whenever she was spok- 
 en to, her thought of the speaker was, " You, 
 who say this, are but a child of the world ; " 
 and whenever she took part in any pleasure 
 excursion, there was the perpetually recur- 
 ring suggestion, " You yourself are not here, 
 you only seem to be here, you are in a 
 wholly different world, yonder, far above." 
 
 Every one was charmed with her friend- 
 liness, her gentleness, her attentive listen- 
 ing, and yet only a part of herself was really 
 
 taken up with all this ; she was elsewhere, 
 and occupied with other interests. 
 
 No one ventured to exert any influence 
 over her ; but the Doctor agreed with Pran- 
 ken and her father, that she must again ride 
 on horseback. 
 
 A new world seemed to be disclosed ; in- 
 side the house, there was singing, dancing, 
 playing, and outside, too, all went merry as 
 a marriage-bell. Manna took pleasant 
 rides on horseback with Pranken, Eric, and 
 Roland in the country round. Sonnenkamp 
 also, mounted on his great black horse, fre- 
 quently joined the party. Their ride was 
 full of enjoyment, and they received on all 
 sides marks of respect, not only from those 
 who had been the recipients of benefits 
 through the Professorin and Fräulein Milch, 
 but also from those who were well off and in- 
 dependent in their circumstances. Wher- 
 ever they alighted, and wherever they reined 
 up, there was always some fresh proof of 
 the pride which the whole region felt in such 
 a man as Sonnenkamp. 
 
 One day, Manna, Pranken, and Roland, 
 Eric and Sonnenkamp, were riding along the 
 road bordered with nut-trees. 
 
 "Herr Dournay is right," exclaimed 
 Manna, who was riding in advance with 
 Pranken and her father. 
 
 Manna said that Eric had made the re- 
 mark, that nut-trees were much more beau- 
 tiful, and that it was a stupid and prosaic 
 innovation to set out lindens and other com- 
 mon trees along the roads ; that the nut-tree 
 belonged to the Rhine, was beautiful and 
 productive, and at least gave to the irre- 
 pressible boys a fine harvest time. 
 
 As she rode along she tore off a leaf of 
 a nut-tree. 
 
 For some time her voice had been differ- 
 ent; it was no longeras if veiled with tears. 
 Turning to her father, she continued : — 
 
 "You can bring this about. Set out a 
 nursery of nut-trees, and give to all the 
 villages round as many nurslings as they 
 can make use of." 
 
 Sonnenkamp promised to carry out the 
 idea, and unfolded a plan which he had 
 much at heart, of establishing general be- 
 nevolent institutions, the first of which 
 should be a fund for the widows and orphans 
 of boatmen. 
 
 Manna stroked her beautiful white pony, 
 to which she had given the name Snow- 
 drop. 
 
 Pranken was happy that the horse proved 
 itself worthy of its mistress, and voluntarily 
 extending her hand, she thanked him for 
 his care. 
 
 " Now trot, Snow-drop ! " she cried, 
 chirruping ; and with Pranken on one side, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 345 
 
 and her father on the other, she rode boldly, 
 rising in the saddle. 
 
 They now came in sight of an advancing 
 procession. . Manna reined in so suddenly 
 that she would have been thrown over her 
 horse's head, had not Sonnenkamp held her 
 by her riding-habit. They dismounted, and 
 Roland and Eric were also obliged to dis- 
 mount. The grooms led the horses, and 
 Manna walked with the procession. Hold- 
 ing up her long riding-dress, not proudly, 
 but humbly, she sang aloud with the pil- 
 grims, and Pranken also. Eric was silent. 
 
 At a chapel by the way-side Manna knelt 
 down, and Pranken also knelt by her side. 
 When she arose, she was amazed to see 
 that the rest had gone, leaving Pranken 
 and her together. They were waiting in a 
 pathway through the field, not far off, with 
 the grooms who were holding the horses. 
 The procession moved on, and Pranken 
 and Manna were left alone. The murmur 
 of the pilgrims was heard in the distance. 
 Pranken held his hands folded together, 
 and looked at Manna as if praying. 
 
 " Manna, 11 he began, he had never called 
 her Manna before. "Manna, such is to 
 be our life ! We acknowledge the grace 
 of heaven, that we, possessed of wealth and 
 inheriting noble names, can occupy a lofty 
 position, but are ready every moment to 
 unite ourselves with our brothers and sisters 
 who walk the holy paths in coarse shoes 
 and barefoot, and to put ourselves on a 
 level with them. Manna, thus will we 
 live ! " 
 
 He took her hand, which she allowed him 
 to hold an instant, and then drew it away. 
 He continued : — 
 
 " I have never yet told you that I too 
 have wrestled with the holy resolution to 
 renounce the world, and to assume the 
 priestly vow. You also, elevated and pious, 
 have struggled, and have returned to the 
 world. I place my heart, my soul, my 
 soul's salvation in your hand. Here, on 
 this consecrated spot, come with me into 
 the chapel." He seized her hand, and at 
 the same moment, Eric cried : — 
 
 "Fräulein Manna! 11 
 
 "What's the matter? What do you 
 want ? 11 exclaimed Pranken. 
 
 " Fräulein Manna, your father wants me 
 to tell you that yonder is a boundary-stone 
 convenient for you to mount your horse." 
 
 " I shall not ride again, I shall walk back 
 to the house," replied Manna ; and turning 
 round, whether she knew that Pranken 
 was not following her, or did not know it, 
 she went on with Eric. After, they had 
 gone some distance, turning round she saw 
 Pranken still standing motionless in the 
 
 place, and she called to him to come with 
 them. 
 
 In spite of all urging, she would not 
 mount her horse, but walked the whole dis- 
 tance in her heavy riding-dress. 
 
 She said nothing.; there was a strange 
 look of defiance in her countenance. 
 
 She locked herself in her room, and wept 
 and prayed for a long time. 
 
 The struggle had come sooner than she 
 thought, and she seemed to herself all un- 
 armed. Pranken had a right to address her 
 in that way. And would it not be better 
 that she should enter into life ? At this 
 thought she looked around, as if she must 
 ask Eric what he thought of this conclusion, 
 what opinion he would form of this fickle- 
 ness. Again she looked around, and it 
 seemed to her that Eric had come into the 
 room with her, and still she was alone. 
 
 It was a severe conflict, and only this one 
 point was gained, that she would no longer 
 allow herself to be robbed of herself by such 
 distractions. 
 
 A boat-sail upon the Rhine had been ap- 
 pointed for the evening. Manna, who had 
 promised to go, now positively declined. 
 She stood at the window of her silent cham- 
 ber without opening it, and she wished that 
 it was grated. She saw the gentlemen and 
 the ladies go down to the river, and heard 
 Lina singing a beautiful song accompanied 
 bv a fine manly voice. 
 ' Who is that ? 
 
 It is not Pranken, nor Roland ; it can be 
 no other than Eric. 
 
 On the boat, Lina requested Eric to sing 
 the " Harper's Song," set to music by Schu- 
 bert. Eric considered it entirely inappro- 
 priate to sing aloud here, in a joyous com- 
 pany upon the Rhine, the plaint of a sorely 
 burdened soul breathed out to the lonely 
 night. 
 
 But Lina persisted, and Eric sang, — 
 
 " He that with tears did never eat his bread." 
 
 The rowers stopped rowing, and Eric's 
 voice thrilled the inmost soul. He paused, 
 and then sang the words, — 
 
 " Ye lead us onward into life. Ye leave 
 
 The wretch to fall ; then yield him up, in 
 woe, 
 
 Remorse, and pain, unceasingly to grieve; 
 For every sin is punished here below." 
 
 Schubert's air closes without any musical 
 cadence, just as Goethe's words give no 
 final solution. The strain, "For every sin 
 is punished here below," filled the air as 
 the boat glided past the vilia. Manna 
 heard the words, sank down, and covered 
 her face with both hands. 
 
346 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Hour after hour passed away, and then 
 some one knocked at the door. Manna 
 waked from the sleep into which she had 
 fallen in the midst of her anguish. It was 
 quite dark, Roland and Lina were calling 
 her name. Overcome by weariness of 
 body and soul, Manna had not been able to 
 keep from falling asleep, and now she 
 joined the rest of the family, as if in a 
 dream. It seemed to her as if it were 
 morning, and yet it was night. She had a 
 feeling of oppression in the society of those 
 around her, all of whom looked upon her 
 with loving eyes. 
 
 In order, as it were, to recover self-pos- 
 session, she proposed another sail upon the 
 Rhine by moonlight, and she asked Lina to 
 sing; 
 
 Lina rejoined that she could not sing so 
 beautifully as Eric, and that he ought to sing. 
 
 " Do sing,' 1 Manna said to him. " I can- 
 not sing now," Eric replied. 
 
 The first request she had ever made of 
 him he positively refused to grant. Manna 
 was vexed at first, and then she was glad 
 of this lack of friendliness. It is better 
 thus ; there is no reason why he should 
 interest you in any way ; you must again 
 take the proper position in regard to him. 
 And in order to show that she did not feel 
 hurt by the refusal, she was more animated 
 than she had ever been before. 
 
 When they returned from the excursion, 
 Sonnenkamp met them as they were getting 
 out of the boat, and told them that Seven- 
 piper had informed him, lest they should be 
 taken by surprise, or be away — but no one 
 was to know anything about it — that he was 
 to be waited upon by the boatmen to-morrow 
 evening, to thank him for the benevolent 
 institution he had established. 
 
 CHArTER VIII. 
 THOU SHALT LAUGH, DANCE, AND DRINK. 
 
 "A house without a daughter is like a 
 meadow without flowers, 11 said the Major, 
 who was watching, with Sonnenkamp and 
 the Professorin, the young people playing 
 graces in the lawn between the villa and 
 the green cottage. 
 
 Lina had induced Manna to be present, 
 and she was there in a bright summer suit. 
 And Lina, together with the maid, had pre- 
 vailed upon Manna to wear a deep red vel- 
 vet ribbon in her black hair, and that her 
 rich dark hair should be shown to the best 
 advantage. 
 
 The young people formed a large circle, 
 sending differently colored hoops swiftly 
 through the air, and catching them upon the 
 pretty sticks. 
 
 The Architect was present, too, having 
 been invited at Manna^ special request. 
 No one except herself and Lina knew why 
 this had been done. 
 
 Roland had requested Eric to join in the 
 play ; at first he declined, but Lina cried, — 
 
 " Whoever doesn^t play wears a wig and 
 is afraid of its being found out. 11 
 
 He made one of the circle. Prankec 
 gave him a sort of military salute with his 
 stick, as if it were a sword. They laughed 
 merrily as they sprang about on the lawn, 
 and it was a delight to the eye to witness 
 Roland\s, and, still more, Manna's graceful 
 movements. When she looked up and 
 reached out an arm, with her lithe and 
 ethereal form, it appeared as if her eyes 
 were fixed upon something els°, than the 
 play ; as if she were in an ecstasy, and were 
 expecting not a hoop, but some heavenly 
 vision. Pranken stood on her right, and 
 Eric on her left; Pranken threw so skilfully 
 that she always caught the hoop from him, 
 while Eric sent it too high or too low, so 
 that she was obliged to stoop and pick it 
 up from the ground. It almost seemed as 
 if he did it purposely, for in this movement 
 Mannas grace was always displayed afresh. 
 
 Roland and Lina made fun of his clumsy 
 play. 
 
 Lina and Roland kept up a constant run- 
 ning fight ; she struggled with the boy as if 
 she were a boy herself, and they tried to 
 throw each other down in the endeavor to 
 catch a hoop tossed beyond the circle. But 
 Roland was not thrown down, and escaped 
 from all her clutches as smoothly as a 
 weasel. The Architect smiled as he looked 
 at Lina^ fawn-colored gaiter-boots. As 
 Eric was leaping forward to catch a hoop 
 which Manna had thrown on one side, he 
 fell his whole length on the lawn. 
 
 Manna laughed outright. 
 
 As soon as Lina heard it she clapped her 
 hands, exclaiming, — 
 
 The princess is set free! Manna has, 
 heretofore, been the princess who couldi^t 
 j laugh. Captain, you've broken the spell ! 
 What name shall we give to the knight who 
 has set our Manna free ? " 
 
 Lina was overflowing with merriment, 
 and she might indeed take pride in having 
 been the means of enlivening the whole 
 house, and, more than all, Manna. 
 
 Eric succeeded in turning his fall into a 
 joke, and he was at a loss, when he looked 
 at his mother, to know why she shook her 
 head so strangely. He had entirely forgot- 
 ten how she reminded him with pride dur- 
 ing those sad days when Bella was visiting 
 the villa, that his father had said he had 
 never had a fall. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 347 
 
 Manna's cheeks had never before glowed 
 so brightly as they did to-day; the spell 
 upon her seemed broken ; one deep, hearty, 
 childlike burst of laughter had given her 
 new life. She was sorely vexed, but she 
 could make no suitable response when Lina 
 said to Herr Sonnenkamp : — 
 
 " Your Highness ! The king was obliged 
 to give the princess in marriage to the 
 knight who made her laugh, and public 
 proclamation was made of it from the tower 
 of the castle throughout all lands. Now 
 say what you will give to Herr Dournay." 
 
 " I grant him a kiss," answered Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 " Herr Dournay, you are authorized to 
 kiss Manna, her father grants permission,' 1 
 Lina called out to the company. 
 
 They all stood amazed, and Sonnenkamp 
 cried : — 
 
 ,"No, child, that was not my meaning. 
 He can give you a kiss." 
 
 " I don't need your permission for that," 
 replied Lina. 
 
 She was now entirely in her element ; 
 wherever there was any fun, any teasing, 
 she seemed a different being, quick, inven- 
 tive, excessively merry, full of fanciful sug- 
 gestions ; as soon, however, as the conver- 
 sation took a serious turn, she always sat 
 very quiet and attentive, but her look 
 said : — 
 
 " All this is no doubt very fine, but I've 
 no relish for it ; Tve never yet seen that 
 people were any better off or any merrier 
 for all their smart speeches." 
 
 They returned to the villa. 
 
 Lina had hung her hat upon a bush. The 
 Architect carried it to her, stroking the 
 brown ribbons, and regarding fondly the 
 brown straw braid, and the artificial vine- 
 leaves, of a brown autumnal tint. He hand- 
 ed the hat to Lina, and while doing it they 
 pressed each other's hands, as the Architect 
 said that he must go to the castle again, in 
 order to make some arrangements for the 
 next day. For an instant only, Lina looked 
 thoughtfully after him, and then, giving her 
 head a toss, she bounded up the steps and 
 went into the music saloon. Placing her- 
 self at the piano, she played a dancing tune, 
 for the day must be wound off with a dance ; 
 the release of the princess who had not 
 been able to laugh must be celebrated with 
 a dance, and Lina was so self-denying as to 
 be willing herself to play. When Pranken 
 now came up to Manna and jestingly in- 
 vited her to dance, Lina jumped up from 
 the piano. 
 
 "No, that won't do! The knight of 
 philosophy gone to grass ; he who freed the 
 princess, he must come first." 
 
 Lina would not have it otherwise. Man- 
 na had first to dance with Eric, and the 
 Aunt was obliging enough to play for them, 
 so that Lina could dance too. With a very 
 roguish, saucy courtesy, she challenged 
 Herr von Pranken, who took her arm with- 
 out any hesitation, and danced with her be- 
 hind Eric and Manna. 
 
 " I can't realize that I am dancing," said 
 Manna, as she floated rather than danced 
 round the great hall. 
 
 " Nor can I," replied Eric. 
 
 Manna broke the pause which ensued, by 
 saying : — 
 
 " Lina sets us all crazy." 
 
 Pranken now came and asked her to 
 dance ; she was still somewhat out of breath. 
 He held her hand until he began to whirl 
 with her in the dance. Roland was delight- 
 ed that Lina was free, and the Aunt must 
 still keep playing for him to dance with 
 Lina, as he was unwilling to stop. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was quite happy as he stood 
 there in the music-saloon ; and he said to 
 the Professorin that this was all so pleasant, 
 and he had never thought that- he should 
 see. his children dancing in this hall. He 
 had sent to Frau Ceres, who would like to 
 be a looker on, too. She came, and Pran- 
 ken and Manna must dance again in her 
 presence. 
 
 Sonnenkamp praised the happy sugges- 
 tion of his wife, that she should give a 
 grand ball in honor of Manna ; but Man- 
 na decidedly opposed this, and the wise 
 Lina, happy in her triumph, begged the 
 parents in a low tone not to urge Manna 
 any further to-day, and she would bring 
 everything about in good season. 
 
 After tea, Lina wanted to have another 
 dance ; she would like to keep up all night, 
 and that Sonnenkamp should telegraph to 
 the garrison to have the military t)and sent 
 by an extra train. 
 
 She was to-day so full of buoyant spright- 
 liness, and so overflowing with cheerfulness, 
 that even Eric, who had heretofore regard- 
 ed her with indifference, approached her in a 
 very friendly mood. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "do you remember 
 that time ? Would you have believed that 
 you should ever have danced with your 
 winged apparation ? Isn't she a heavenly 
 creature ? Ah, and if you ever know her 
 as she used to be, so full of glee ! Ah, I am 
 delighted to think that you will fall so deep- 
 ly in love with Manna, — oh, so deeply in 
 love, — so dead in love. Will you promise 
 me something ? " 
 
 " What, for instance ? " 
 
 " That you will tell me the very first day 
 when you fall in love." 
 
348 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 "But if I should fall in love with you, 
 what then P " ' 
 
 "Come, don't talk so. I am much too 
 stupid lor you. I should have been smart 
 enough for Herr von Pranken, but I am en- 
 gaged, and out of the question. Hasn't 
 Manna told you anything about me ? " 
 
 Erie said she had not, and Lina con- 
 tinued : — 
 
 " Yes, do this, do it out of regard for me, 
 and snatch Manna away from Baron von 
 Pranken. I beg of you, do it for my sake." 
 
 " What are you laughing at so merrily ? " 
 said Manna, coming up to them. " I have 
 begun to laugh to-day, and now I should 
 like to keep you company." 
 
 "Tell her," said Lina with a nod. As 
 Eric was silent, she continued : — 
 
 " He can tell you, but he is awfully re- 
 served and profound. Don't let him have 
 any peace, Manna, until he has told you. 
 Herr Captain, if you don't tell at once, then 
 I'll tell." 
 
 " I have that .confidence in your sense of 
 propriety," said Eric very seriously, " that I 
 do not believe you would wantonly turn a 
 joke into sober earnest." 
 
 Lina's whole mien changed, and she said : 
 
 " Ah, Manna, he is so awfully learned! 
 My father says so too, and he sees people 
 through and through. Don't you sometimes 
 feel afraid of him ? " 
 
 Without making any reply, Manna took 
 Lina's arm and went with her through the 
 garden, Lina chatting, joking, and singing 
 incessantly, like a nightingale in the shrub- 
 bery. 
 
 After Manna had gone to her room, it 
 seemed to her there that the pictures on the 
 wall looked at her and asked : Who can this 
 be ? She shut out the dumb pictures by 
 closing her eyes, threw herself upon her 
 knees, artd a voice within her seemed to say : 
 It must be thus ; thou art to become ac- 
 quainted with the world, and all the vain 
 delights of life, in order to gain the victory 
 over them. Yet she felt down-hearted, for 
 in the midst of her contrite prayer she 
 seemed to hear the lively waltzes sounding 
 in her ears, and she heard a burst of laugh- 
 ter. Could it have been she herself who 
 had so laughed ? 
 
 The next day she had to enter into fresh 
 gaieties. 
 
 In the afternoon they drove to the castle, 
 and there the Architect contrived a new de- 
 light. He was a genuine priest of the May- 
 bowl, and with a sort of solemnity he mixed 
 the various ingredients of the fragrant bev- 
 erage. The whole company sat upon a 
 projecting wall of the castle, and looked out 
 upon the broadly-extending landscape, while I 
 
 Lina, in her exuberant joyousness, sang and 
 caroled without intermission. She sang in 
 the open air, as a general thing, better than 
 in a room ; and she had a good accompani- 
 ment, for she sang a duett with the Archi- 
 tect. 
 
 Eric was again asked to sing, and again 
 he declined. 
 
 Lina induced Manna to drink a whole 
 glass of May-wine, and said, in joke, that if 
 she could only get Manna once a little in- 
 toxicated, the old Manna, or, more properly, 
 the young Manna, would again show herself. 
 She seemed ready to make her appearance, 
 but Manna had strength enough to hold her- 
 self in restraint, though she laughed to-day 
 at Lina's most trifling jokes. 
 
 Roland nodded to Eric, but he whispered 
 to him that he must not call attention to 
 Manna's cheerfulness, as that would put an 
 end to it. 
 
 Wreaths were woven, and Lina recalled 
 the time when Eric first came to Wolfsgar- 
 ten ; with wreaths on their heads they all 
 drove from the castle back to the villa. 
 
 At the last declivity, Manna bounded 
 lightly down the hill and Lina after her ; at 
 the foot the latter embraced her old school- 
 mate, saying to her : — 
 
 " You are released ! You have done the 
 three best things in the world ; you have 
 laughed, danced, and drunk — no, this is 
 not the best ; the best is yet to come." 
 
 And again Manna burst into a ringing 
 laugh. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 DEMONSTRATION OF RESPECT FROM BELOW. 
 
 When a person is to be surprised in the 
 evening by a demonstration of respect, what 
 does he do in the morning ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp must pretend not to notice 
 anything, but nevertheless, he watched the 
 barometer very closely. It had been rain- 
 ing, and now the mercury was rising ; it is 
 clearing off, and the proposed demonstra- 
 tion will come off beautifully. If one only 
 knew beforehand the address which would 
 be made this evening, one could get ready 
 a suitable response. Princes have the ad- 
 vantage of receiving beforehand any ad- 
 dress that is to be presented. Sonnenkamp, 
 however, was confident that the occasion 
 would suggest to him a suitable reply. He 
 had never regarded the honor that comes 
 from men ; he had honored himself, so far 
 as there is any need of honor at all. Should 
 he now feel any concern about it ? And by 
 what was this respect obtained ? 
 
 By money ! 
 
 Had he not a superfluity of that ? it was 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 349 
 
 very evident that their eyes would not be 
 turned upon him. 
 
 He rode out at the usual hour, but he 
 did not follow his usual route, and without 
 being aware of it, he cast amiable glances 
 upon all the people he met ; he had a new 
 accession of benevolent feeling. He rode 
 to the castle, and looked smilingly around, 
 involuntarily fancying to himself with what 
 delight the knights formerly returned home 
 from their raids ; they were strong, fierce, 
 courageous men. 
 
 Not far from the ruins he turned aside 
 into the wood, for he saw that a large flag 
 was floating over the battlements of the 
 only completed tower, and there were no 
 men visible. He wandered about in the 
 wood, leading his horse by the bridle. He 
 himself could not have told what there 
 passed through his mind. Here walks a 
 man in the wood, silent, alone, lost in 
 thought, and this evening hundreds and 
 hundreds of men will honor him with cheers. 
 
 The Major lay in wait for him as he was 
 returning, and insisted upon his going home 
 with him. The Major had the air of a 
 groomsman, who has made every prepara- 
 tion for the wedding, and now, confident 
 that all the requisite arrangements have 
 been made, retires with the bridegroom into 
 the quiet apartment until he shall be sum- 
 moned by the full band. 
 
 The dinner to-day was not so well served 
 as usual, but Sonnenkamp took no notice of 
 it, not wanting to show that he knew of the 
 preparations for the evening celebration. 
 
 In the afternoon there were present the 
 neighbouring families of the Cabinetsrath, 
 the Justice and his wife, the Doctor, and 
 the Major, who had absented himself for a 
 brief period and now appeared with all his 
 decorations. Many others came also; even 
 the young widow, the daughter of Herr von 
 Endlich, was there, in her widow's weeds, 
 having come to spend a few weeks in the 
 summer with her parents in the country. 
 Pranken had invited the best society in the 
 vicinity, for he knew that this public recog- 
 nition of his renown was very agreeable to 
 Herr Sonnenkamp. All were present, how- 
 ever, as if by accident, and Sonnenkamp 
 allowed this tacitly understood lie to pass. 
 
 Pranken was particularly attentive to the 
 beautiful young widow, and made the most 
 of his position as son of the house. He 
 was glad, as he once caught Manna's glance, 
 that she had an opportunity of perceiving 
 what temptations and charms were offered 
 to him; and. the words which he made use 
 of in introducing Manna to the young widow 
 seemed to him very well chosen. He 
 said, — 
 
 " You, gracious lady, and Fraulein Son- 
 nenkamp are just fitted to be friends ; for 
 Fraulein Sonnenkamp has also a maturity 
 of mind far beyond her years." 
 
 The young widow was very gracious to 
 Manna, and Pranken left them by them- 
 selves, for he had a great deal to attend to 
 as son of the house. 
 
 He had given orders to the cook to have 
 in readiness an ample provision of roast 
 meats and common wines, and he had 
 looked out also for the cigars. Sonnenkamp 
 knew everything that was going on, but 
 pretended to see and hear nothing. 
 
 When evening came, Pranken, in presence 
 of all, requested the father — such was the 
 word he made use of emphatically — to re- 
 main in his room until he should be sent 
 for. Very modestly, bashfully, and indul- 
 gently, Sonnenkamp betook himself to his 
 room. 
 
 Long tables were now set in the court- 
 yard, and food and drink were spread upon 
 them, for the boats fastened together and 
 gondolas were already coming down from 
 the upper Rhine, and music was heard in 
 the_ distance. The boats arranged them- 
 selves in front of the villa. 
 
 When it was dark, torches and parti-col- 
 ored lamps, like a garland of fire, were 
 hung upon the vessels. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was alone in his room, and 
 he was continually trying to imagine what 
 sort of an address would be made to him, 
 and he repeated half aloud to himself his 
 reply. 
 
 Approaching footsteps were now heard, 
 and the Major and the Justice made their 
 appearance. The Major said that they 
 would bear him company for a while, and 
 the Justice added that it must certainly 
 touch him very deeply, for he would be 
 obliged to be an actual witness of the grati- 
 tude which the hearts of so many people, 
 struggling for the means of living, felt 
 towards him. Sonnenkamp expressed his 
 thanks, and smoked away quietly, holding 
 his cigar very tenderly, as if he felt bashful 
 even in its presence. 
 
 He begged his friends to excuse him for 
 not being able to entertain them ; that he 
 had lived so many years abroad, and now 
 it almost overwhelmed him to have found a 
 home in so many staunch hearts ; and he 
 did not deserve it, for he had given nothing 
 but a little wretched money. The Justice 
 wanted to make a reply, but the Major 
 nodded to him to omit it. In such mo- 
 ments, he whispered to him, a man must 
 be expected to make some extravagant 
 speeches, and it is sufficient to listen quietly 
 to what he says ; and besides, he saw that 
 
350 
 
 THE COUNTRY -HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was conning over the speech 
 which he was soon to get off. 
 
 Several heavy footsteps were now heard, 
 and Pranken said, opening the door, — 
 
 " This way, my men." 
 
 A deputation of boatmen entered, headed 
 by Sevenpiper, and he begged Sonnenkamp 
 to be so kind as to allow them to present to 
 him a tribute of their grateful respect. 
 With eyes cast down, and as if weighed 
 down by the burden of honor heaped upon 
 him, amidst the boatmen dressed in their 
 light-colored clothes, Sonnenkamp went 
 down the steps into the park. 
 
 Here a beautiful scene presented itself to 
 his view. The boatmen were standing in 
 the boats illuminated by differently colored 
 lights, and singing in chorus a song which 
 sounded on the distant air. Sonnenkamp 
 stood there with folded hands, looking 
 straight before him ; and then he separated 
 his hands, and rubbed the ring on the 
 thumb of his right hand, which pained him. 
 The song ended, and a cheer was called for 
 in honor of the great benefactor. The 
 cannons roared, and the reports were 
 echoed and re-echoed from the mountains, 
 so that it was proclaimed through the land 
 as with a voice of thunder up the river and 
 down. 
 
 Sonnenkamp returned his thanks in a 
 brief but hearty speech ; Roland stood at 
 his right hand and Manna at his left. He 
 placed his right hand upon the shoulder of 
 his son, by this means hiding the thumb, 
 and with the other hand he took Manna's ; 
 he concluded with the request that the good 
 neighbors would be pleased to extend their 
 kindness also to his children. 
 
 A lad, who was standing at the helm, 
 wearing the clothes which Roland had sent 
 him on his birthday, now called for a cheer 
 for Roland; again the cannons fired. Ro- 
 land said to the Major : I cannot make a 
 speech. He went down, and got on board 
 the boat and shook hands with the men ; 
 and he now perceived, for the first time, 
 that Erie was on the boat. He sat behind 
 the others and had assisted them in singing ; 
 the school-teacher, Fassbender, was sitting 
 with him. 
 
 They all now came on shore. The boat- 
 men, with a band of music, marched 
 through the park to the tables that had 
 been spread for their entertainment. Son- 
 nenkamp immediately gave orders, and in 
 a sharp tone, that the chairs should be re- 
 moved. 
 
 " It isn't necessary for them to sit down," 
 said he to Pranken; " I had imagined you 
 would have thought of that. Have them out 
 of the way soon. You can't trust these 
 
 common people, they soon get out of order. 
 Let the wine be taken on board the boats, 
 and there they may get as crazy as they 
 please." 
 
 At the first glass Sevenpiper proposed 
 the health of Frau Sonnenkamp, and Son- 
 nenkamp returned thanks in her behalf 
 from the outside steps, and expressed his 
 regret that his wife, on account of illness,- 
 could not be present. He begged them to 
 be as quiet as possible, for she was very 
 sensitive. A damper was thus put upon 
 the merriment, and Eric led the men back 
 to the boats. They took their departure, 
 the cannons roared, the music struck up, 
 and then all was again still at the villa. 
 
 They sat in a friendly circle in the grand 
 saloon, and Sonnenkamp looked more used 
 up than he had ever been before ; his feat- 
 ures lighted up, however, when the Major, 
 who had a happy thought, said, — 
 
 "This must all be reported by a good 
 hand in the newspaper ! You, Comrade," 
 turning to Eric, "you will certainly do it 
 up finely. Not a word ; you must." 
 
 Eric explained that he had no intention 
 of refusing ; he had only wanted to do of his 
 own accord what the Major had suggested. 
 The Major gave him a violent grip of the 
 hand, and did not drop it until Eric said, — 
 
 "If you squeeze my hand any longer, I 
 shall not be able to write to-morrow." 
 
 The Major went to Eric's mother, and 
 commended him for having sung with the 
 people ; he only regretted that Fraulein 
 Milch had not been a spectator of the beau- 
 tiful celebration, but she was stiff-necked in 
 regard to everything connected with the 
 Sonnenkamp house. He could not imagine 
 why it was ; she was in every other respect 
 so kind towards everybody. 
 
 The Professorin knew why Fräulein Milch 
 stayed away, and it gav« her a severe 
 twinge, that she herself had to be present, 
 and that her son was to proclaim the fame 
 of this man, who, in all that he did, had an 
 entirely different end in view from what 
 Eric imagined. She looked at the man, at 
 his children, and at the whole company, and 
 could not help thinking how it would be, if, 
 instead of these salutes of cannon in his 
 honor that now echoed in the night, a 
 wholly different report should be heard over 
 mountain and valley. 
 
 The company at last departed. Roland 
 and Eric accompanied the Mother home. 
 Roland was brimful of joy over this tribute 
 of universal respect, and Eric took care to 
 impress upon him again how great a happi- 
 ness it was, to be able so to make other peo- 
 ple happy. Roland spoke of the intention 
 of his father to set out walnut trees through- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 351 
 
 out the whole region, and complained that 
 he himself seemed to be like Alexander of 
 Macedon, who found fault with his father, 
 Philip, for leaving nothing for him to do. 
 The Mother and Eric rejoiced at this awak- 
 ened zeal of the youth, and when he took 
 leave, the Mother shed tears as she kissed 
 him. 
 
 " What was the matter with your mother, 
 that she was so sad all the evening ? " said 
 Roland, as they were returning home. 
 
 " She has lost the key-note of joy," re- 
 plied Eric. 
 
 That very night he wrote a spirited ac- 
 count of the benevolent Institution, and the 
 cheerful festivities, and sent it to Professor 
 Crutius at the capital. The next day but 
 one, the journal came to the villa. Sonnen- 
 kamp thanked Eric for his well-written com- 
 munication, and Roland begged, — 
 
 " Give me the paper ; I will keep it for a 
 perpetual remembrance. I am so glad that 
 I am going to be a soldier. If I win bat- 
 tles, it will be published in the papers, and 
 the scholars will be obliged to hear of my 
 name, and of my deeds, just like those of 
 Miltiades, and Washington, and Napoleon. 11 
 
 There was another communication pub- 
 lished in the official gazette, and Pranken 
 did not deny that he was the author of it. 
 What Eric had written was every way fine, 
 but this communication came to the eyes of 
 the Prince, and so was of far greater impor- 
 tance, and soon showed its results. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE VICTORIA REGIA IN BLOOM. 
 
 The Cabinetsrathin proved herself to be 
 grateful and well informed ; she showed to 
 Sonnenkamp a letter from her husband, in 
 which he stated that the Prince had read 
 with great satisfaction the account of the 
 Institution and the popular celebration. 
 But a much more important point was, that 
 the Prince expressed the intention of paying 
 a visit in person to the famous green-houses 
 and fruit-plantations of Sonnenkamp. This 
 must be kept a profound secret, but it was 
 very proper that Sonnenkamp should be in- 
 formed of it. He sent back the request 
 that the visit of the Prince should be an- 
 nounced by a telegram. 
 
 He seemed to himself now a prisoner in 
 his own domains. Ha had had no idea of 
 leaving the villa until it was time for him to 
 set out for the Baths, but now it seemed to 
 him that he might be called suddenly away, 
 and the Prince would be sure to come dur- 
 ing his absence. 
 
 He gave precise orders, and promised a 
 special remuneration for the speediest for- 
 
 warding of any telegram from the capital ; 
 but day after day passed, and none came. 
 Everything had resumed its quiet routine, 
 but Sonnenkamp was constantly in a state 
 of feverish excitement. Pranken wanted to 
 go away, but remained at Sonnenkamp's 
 request, who imparted to him, in the strict- 
 est confidence, what distinguished visitors 
 he was expecting. 
 
 Pranken endured very patiently Manna's 
 aversion to any decided advances towards 
 intimacy ; -he was glad to perceive that she 
 treated Eric with special coolness, for after 
 those days of harmless and merry enjoy- 
 ment, she had withdrawn into her life of 
 strict penitential seclusion ; and if she 
 chanced to meet Eric, her countenance at 
 once became darkened. 
 
 Sonnenkamp went through the park, the 
 orchard and the green-houses, and would 
 have been glad to beseech all the plants to 
 be in a beautiful and afresh condition when 
 their Highnesses arrived ; and his old pre- 
 dilection for grubbing in the earth with his 
 sack-like garment was indulged with great 
 circumspection. 
 
 He was sitting in the hot-house, and say- 
 ing to himself how very quiet he would be, 
 if the Prince, as was scarcely to be doubted, 
 should bring into the house his diploma of 
 nobility. And as he thus sat meditating 
 with himself, there was a strange rustling 
 in the air; a gentle, scarcely perceptible 
 crackling was noticed, and Sonnenkamp 
 cried out, — 
 
 " It has burst open ! " 
 
 The Victoria Regia had bloomed. He 
 saw the flower, he took delight in it, and 
 yet he shook his head in vexation. Why 
 couldst thou not wait, and open at the very 
 instant when the Prince was standing here? 
 One ought to be able to compel nature ! 
 That would be the thing ! 
 
 He sent a carriage immediately for the 
 Cabinetsrathin, and she came. She found 
 the whole' family, Frau Ceres included, in 
 amazement at the sight of the wonderful 
 flower ; and she too was enraptured. 
 
 Sonnenkamp explained to her that the 
 Victoria Regia was white when it first 
 bloomed, and closed its flower at night ; that 
 du)*ing the second night it opened again, 
 and was then of a rose-color. For four 
 days a new flower appeared each day, and 
 the former flower sank down under water. 
 
 He took the Cabinetsrathin aside ; she ' 
 must immediately inform the Court of the 
 event. Now there was a special induce- 
 ment for the Prince to come. 
 
 At evening, the tidings were sent that 
 the Prince and the Princess were coming the 
 next day ; but they would take it very ill, if 
 
352 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 any one should give it to be understood that 
 this was anything more than a mere casual 
 visit. 
 
 Sonnenkamp heaved a deep sigh ; if all 
 was to appear accidental, then the Prince 
 would not bring with him the patent of a 
 nobility, for that required previous prepara- 
 t on, many formalities, and sessions of the 
 Commission on Orders. But perhaps all 
 that was a matter of secrecy, which the Cab- 
 inetsriithin was not allowed to disclose. 
 
 The well-posted neighbor did' not con- 
 sider this probable, and so Sonnenkamp's 
 peeidiar satisfaction in all this was utterly 
 destroyed. Then one must keep doing for- 
 ever some new thing, must wait, and use 
 fresh exertions. He was so vexed, that he 
 feared he should be uncivil to the Prince. 
 He impressed upon himself the necessity of 
 the greatest self-control that no vexation 
 and impatience should appear. 
 
 In the morning, after an almost sleepless 
 night, Sonnenkamp issued directions that 
 no one shoflld leave the house on that day, 
 and in a measure commanded Frau Ceres 
 not to be sick. He went to the Professorin 
 and begged her to do the honors of the 
 house, confessing to her whom he was ex- 
 pecting, and saying that he could have no 
 secrets with her. 
 
 The Professorin shuddered all over, and 
 her look said : — 
 
 " You dare to tell me that, when I 
 know " 
 
 But she restrained herself, and placed 
 herself at the disposal of Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 He waited in the garden in front of the 
 green cottage until the Professorin had 
 changed her dress ; and she wore to-day, for 
 the first time, a miniature in pastel of her 
 deceased husband. She accompanied Son- 
 nenkamp to the villa, and Frau Ceres was i 
 exceedingly surprised to see her at so unu- | 
 sual an hour. 
 
 The Professorin had obtained permission 
 to inform Fran Ceres of the expected visit, 
 and the lady wished to deck herself with all 
 her jewels. It was very hard to convince 
 her that she ought to be dressed with great 
 simplicity. 
 
 A telegram from the Cabinetsrathin at the 
 capital informed them that the royal party 
 had set out. 
 
 It was now a matter of certainty. Eric, 
 Roland, and Manna were also informed, and 
 Eric wished to remain in his room. 
 
 " Perhaps you expect to be summoned P" 
 said Frauken sharply. 
 
 " I expect nothing but civility, where I j 
 am not aware of having done anything to [ 
 offend," replied Eric, courteously. 
 
 Pranken tossed his head slightly ; he had, 
 in fact, fully made up his mind : This person 
 must be off; the man is becoming a nui- 
 sance ; but this tutor's family have nestled 
 themselves in here, like caterpillars in a 
 bee-hive, and there's nothing to be done 
 but smoke them out. 
 
 Pranken was the only one who was com- 
 posed and self-possessed ; he was the cham- 
 berlain and the Baron von Pranken, and all 
 the rest were nothing but wretched under- 
 lings. 
 
 Manna especially was restless ; and to- 
 day, for the first time, she was confidential 
 towards Pranken. 
 
 She expressed her satisfaction that the 
 whole household had such a noble support to 
 lean upon. 
 
 Pranken was freshly inspirited by these 
 words. 
 
 " You will like being at Court," he said 
 to Manna. 
 
 And Sonnenkamp, who was standing not 
 far off, added immediately : — 
 
 " Yes, my child, you will receive delight 
 and honor at the side of the most honored 
 and most beloved nobleman. 11 
 
 Manna cast down her eyes. Then Ro- 
 land came up, dressed completely in 
 white. 
 
 "Just see how handsome he is," said 
 Manna to Pranken. 
 
 Roland was full of confidence, and ex- 
 horted Manna not to be so timid : their 
 royal Highnesses were very gracious, and 
 after the first words, one had the feeling 
 that he was with his own comrades. 
 
 Lootz was stationed on the flat roof of 
 the house to look out, and now he came 
 hurriedly down, exclaiming : — 
 
 " They are coming ! 11 
 
 They separated as if no one was ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Two carriages drove into the courtyard. 
 Sonnenkamp hastened down the outside 
 steps, but stumbled on the lowest one, and 
 had to hold on by the railing. 
 
 What is the meaning of this ? 
 
 A black face ! 
 
 Where does this come from ? 
 
 "Come! Come! 11 cried Pranken, who 
 was hurrying after him. " Their royal High- 
 nesses are already getting up." 
 
 He reached the carriage at just the right 
 moment, and had the honor of being able 
 to take the hand of the Prince as he was 
 getting out of the carriage. The Princess 
 got out at the other side, with Pranken's 
 assistance, and expressed in gracious words 
 how much satisfaction she took in being able 
 for once to see the place, and the man in 
 his own house, whence proceeded so much 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 353 
 
 that was excellent and beneficent to the 
 people. 
 
 The Princess, who cherished a special 
 zeal for the benevolent institutions of the 
 land, considered herself bound to express 
 her thanks for Sonnenkamp' s generous ex- 
 penditures. She would have preferred that 
 he should have devoted his munificent out- 
 lays to institutions already established by 
 her, instead of founding new ones. It was 
 a decided oversight of Pranken's not to 
 have taken that into consideration. 
 
 There was a slight tone of dissatisfaction 
 in the remark of the Princess, that she was 
 always glad when new institutions were 
 founded. 
 
 Frau Ceres had approached, accompanied 
 by Manna. 
 
 The Princess addressed a few words to 
 Frau Ceres, and then said to Manna that 
 she looked wholly different from her brother, 
 except that her eyes were like his. 
 
 " But where is Roland? " 
 
 He was now seen coming down the steps ; 
 he was urgently requesting Eric to go with 
 him, while Eric and the Mother bade him 
 go alone. 
 
 He obeyed, and was welcomed by their 
 royal Highnesses in a very cordial manner. 
 
 The Prince went towards the house, 
 where the Professorin was standing on the 
 steps with Eric ; he went up to her with 
 quick step, holding out both hands, and 
 saying how glad he was to see her again ; 
 then, pointing to the miniature, he added 
 that he cherished a most grateful remem- 
 brance of its subject, and wore his image 
 not on but in his breast. Eric seemed to 
 be hardly noticed, till a glance from his 
 mother said, "Speak to my son," and the 
 Prince turned to him with the words : — 
 
 " I hope, dear Dournay, that you have a 
 better, pupil than your excellent father had 
 in me. 11 
 
 Eric found nothing to say in reply, but 
 bowed in silence. Pranken approached, 
 and asked : — 
 
 "Will your Highness see the Park and 
 the Victoria Regia in bloom first, or the 
 house ? " 
 
 " Ask the Princess," was the answer. 
 
 Pranken moved with great deference 
 towards the other group, catching Manna's 
 bright glance, which followed him every- 
 where. Where was Eric now ? There stood 
 the poor fellow, and it was laughable to 
 think of his daring to aspire to an equality 
 with a Pranken. 
 
 The Princess said that, after her drive, 
 she would prefer to go into the house first. 
 
 They repaired to the balcony room, where 
 a breakfast stood ready, and Sonnenkamp 
 
 had the audacity to beg their Highnesses to 
 accept with favor such a simple and extem- 
 pore repast as a commoner could offer them. 
 
 Frau Ceres was favored with a seat at the 
 Prince's right hand, and the Professorin was 
 seated at his left ; the Princess sat between 
 Sonnenkamp and Roland. 
 
 Eric was fortunate enough to find, among 
 the gentlemen in attendance, a former com- 
 rade to converse with. 
 
 "You must enter the military school 
 soon," said the Prince, addressing Roland. 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked fixedly at him ; the 
 Prince knew very well when Roland was to 
 enter, and every moment Sonnenkamp ex- 
 pected to see a sign given to one of the 
 chamberlains to hand him his patent of no- 
 bility, but it did not come. The Prince 
 talked very earnestly with the Professorin, 
 expressing his regret that a lady of such 
 rare spiritual and mental endowments should 
 have withdrawn from Cour-t. 
 
 They soon rose from the table, and Son- 
 nenkamp was made happy by the Prince's 
 praise of his green-house and park, and his 
 skilful fruit culture. Suddenly, in the or- 
 chard, the Prince asked the Professorin : — 
 
 " Where is your sister-in-law, the beau- 
 tiful Claudine ? " 
 
 " She is close by ; she lives with me in the 
 house in which Herr Sonnenkamp has es- 
 tablished us."' 
 
 " We will call upon her," said the Prince, 
 abruptly ; and they went through the new 
 gate, across the meadows, to the green cot- 
 tage. 
 
 The Aunt was very much surprised, but 
 retained her quiet self-possession. The 
 Prince told her that he could never think 
 of harp-playing without at the same time 
 thinking of Fraulein Claudine ; one of the 
 pleasantest recollections of his youth was 
 of seeing and hearing her, as she sat with 
 her long curls, on a tabouret in his mother's 
 room ; it was the prettiest bit of romance 
 among his childish memories. Then again 
 he expressed his gratitude to the sister of 
 his teacher, and extolled Herr Sonnenkamp's 
 good fortune in having two such noble la- 
 dies as neighbors. 
 
 The Prince sincerely desired to make 
 people happy, and he believed that he eould 
 do so with his porcelain flowers of speech ; 
 he was perfectly convinced that from this 
 day forth Aunt Claudine would feel an un- 
 exampled satisfaction and happiness. 
 
 He remained a long time at the cottage, 
 and gave orders that the carriages should 
 follow him, that they might start from there 
 on their return. 
 
 Eric, who had not been asked to join the 
 party, remained behind at the villa, and 
 
354 
 
 THE CO.UNTRY-HOUSE ON THE KEINE. 
 
 talked with a tall coal-black negro, named 
 Adams. 
 
 The negro, who wore a fantastic livery, 
 soon became confidential, and said that he 
 had been a member of a circus company, 
 and was much applauded for his bold leaps, 
 and his extraordinary strength ; the brother 
 of the Prince, when travelling in America, 
 had bought his freedom, and he was now the 
 Prince's favorite footman. His only trouble 
 was that his wife, a white woman who had 
 loved him dearly, and his child were dead, 
 and he should never get another wife. 
 
 Eric had never before spoken to a man 
 who had been a slave, and he could not help 
 saying how much it moved him to do so. 
 
 While Eric was talking with the negro, 
 he little thought that he was being talked 
 of in the green cottage ; his aunt resolutely 
 turned the conversation upon him, and told 
 the Prince what a man he had become. As 
 the guests were about to enter their carriage, 
 the Prince said, in quite a loud voice, to 
 the Professorin : — 
 
 "Where is your son? Tell him that I 
 should be very glad to prove to him how 
 well I remember our boyish companionship." 1 
 
 The Princess' party drove off. The tall 
 negro, who was sitting behind the carriage, 
 gazed back for a long time. Sonnenkamp 
 was much out of temper, and said to Pran- 
 ken that this visit from the Prince had taken 
 an incomprehensible turn, which he could 
 not understand ; he was unused to such 
 things. It was clear that it had left him in 
 most decided ill-humor. 
 
 When they returned to the villa, Manna 
 went to Eric and said, — 
 
 " The Prince left a special message for 
 you with your mother, and you are to re- 
 member that you were his comrade in bov- 
 hood." 
 
 Eric answered with frank cordiality : — 
 
 " The only gratifying circumstance about 
 the Prince's gracious message, Fraulejn 
 Manna, is, that you bring it to me." 
 
 All looked surprised at this friendly dia- 
 logue between Eric and Manna. Pranken 
 ground his teeth, and clenched his fists at 
 the ready audacity of the tutor. 
 
 "Where have you been?' 1 asked Son- 
 nenkamp, in a tone of reproof. 
 
 "I have been talking with the Prince's 
 servant/' 
 
 Sonnenkamp gave him a peculiar look, 
 and then went to his green-house. 
 
 Pranken announced that he must now 
 take his departure ; he evidently expected 
 Manna to raise some opposition, but she 
 said nothing. So he rode off, leaving a 
 strange feeling of disturbance behind him 
 at the villa. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 DEMONSTRATION OF RESrECT FROM ABOVE. 
 
 A flash of lightning in the night-sky 
 makes us fully conscious of the darkness, 
 aud our eyes are blinded. So it was after 
 the departure of the Prince and Princess ; 
 every one sought to avoid the eye of an- 
 other, every one went his own way, but no 
 one spoke out his vexation and disappoint- 
 ment more frankly than the valet Joseph, 
 and the steward agreed with him ; the latter 
 could not say much, because his mouth was 
 full of the delicacies which had been re- 
 moved from the table, but he nodded silent- 
 ly, and became very red in the face. Jo- 
 seph said : — 
 
 " Not to leave a single gratuity behind 
 them ! What is there left of the whole 
 show ? Nothing ; and at Court there isn't a 
 table better laid and served, or more hand- 
 somely provided. They ought to be as- 
 hamed of themselves ! Not to leave a sin- 
 gle penny for the servants ! " 
 
 Such was the fact. 
 
 No one, except Aunt Claudine, of whom 
 nobody had thought, could find any good 
 reason for satisfaction. • 
 
 Sonnenkamp pondered and speculated 
 how he could have brought about the change 
 in the Prince's gracious mood. His inmost 
 soul rebelled against being so dependent 
 on the whim or the glance of another — 
 he, the man who had ruled so absolutely 
 over all that came in his way. He torment- 
 ed himself till his head burned, to think 
 over the whole course of the visit, and at 
 last he thought he had found out the trouble ; 
 it was only a hitch at a glove which had 
 shown it, but that was doubtless the sign of 
 annoyance. He had told the Prince how 
 delighted he should be to drink new health 
 from the same spring as his gracious high- 
 ness, and., when the Prince looked at* him 
 inquiringly, he had added that he also was 
 going to Carlsbad, .where he should have 
 the happiness of beholding his Prince's face 
 every day. Yes, that was it ; the Prince 
 had cast a hasty glance of astonishment 
 upon him, and given his glove a twitch. 
 
 Sonnenkamp acknowledged to himself 
 that he had made a decided blunder in not 
 using more reserve ; for nothing of the 
 Prince's journey to the Baths was yet offi- 
 cially announced, and his mentioning it had 
 been premature, and showed some private 
 source of information. He was more vexed 
 at the caution and self-restraint that one 
 was compelled to observe, than at his own 
 want of tact. Could not the Prince have 
 taken it pleasantly ? Had not a good, and, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 355 
 
 as he himself thought, a most graceful turn 
 been given to his allusion? 
 
 The thoughts of the self-tormentor went 
 further, and new tokens appeared. Had not 
 the Prince said to Aunt Claudine : — 
 
 " Everything seems so thoroughly pleas- 
 ant here ; here I find nothing disturbed 
 from its usual course." 
 
 The Prince was evidently offended that 
 any secret preparations had been made for 
 his reception ; it probably seemed to him that 
 he was surrounded by spies. 
 
 And now Sonnenkamp's wrath broke out 
 anew, not against himself, but against the 
 Prince, who ought to remember how long he 
 had lived in a foreign land ; and the Pro- 
 fessorin ought to have managed matters 
 better, for she had been a lady-in-waiting 
 at Court ; and Pranken ought to have man- 
 aged better, too, for was he not a chamber- 
 lain ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp fumed with rage over the 
 whole business, and now, for the first time, 
 it struck him how strange it was that these 
 people should treat all this humbug of rank 
 so seriously ; they knew that it was hum- 
 bug, but its very existence depended on 
 their vying with each other to keep up the 
 appearance of entertaining religious vener- 
 ation for the humbug. 
 
 For a little while Sonnenkamp thought 
 of giving up the whole scheme. Why 
 should he be ennobled ; why should he enter 
 the Court circle, and put himself under a 
 lasting obligation ? He was proud of pos- 
 sessing an independent nature, and now 
 was he to allow himself to be put in uni- 
 form, and to measure every step, every 
 movement, and every word, according to 
 the court etiquette ? He would rather re- 
 main as he was, proud of his own position, 
 and show openly the contempt which he 
 felt for the whole body of nobles. 
 
 Then ho felt with pain that he had already 
 gone too far ; a retreat would be a mere dis- 
 grace. And how long he had consoled Fray 
 Ceres with this hope, how far he was bound 
 for Pranken's sake, and, more than all, for 
 Roland's ! What was to become of the 
 latter, if he was not raised to the nobility? 
 Were Roland and his descendants to be 
 impoverished again ? No, rank must be 
 won. On the boldly earned property an 
 entail should be laid, so that generation 
 after generation of his descendants should 
 never be stripped of rank and wealth ; the 
 villa and the castle should remain an in- 
 alienable possession in ihe family. 
 
 Something of his own past life rose in 
 Sonnenkamp's memory, and he said to him- 
 self aloud, — 
 
 *' You owe it to your child to turn aside 
 
 from him what has brought you to this 
 pass." 
 
 Calm and resolved he went back to the 
 house, and appeared to all highly gratified 
 with the visit. Indeed, when Joseph told 
 him that the Princess' party had not left a 
 single present for the servants, he gave him 
 a handsome sum, saying that it had been 
 entrusted to Pranken ; the servants would 
 j spread the report far and wide, that the 
 i Prince had been at the villa and left large 
 gratuities for them ; this would rouse the 
 envy of the neighbors, and the envy would 
 carry the report still farther, and the best 
 of it was that they would all be deceived. 
 
 Sonnenkamp whistled softly, a sure sign 
 that he was particularly cheerful and con- 
 I tented. He devoted himself with special 
 J attention to the Aunt, praised her modesty 
 and the Prince's insight in knowing how to 
 I value her as she deserved. It seemed really 
 j to delight him to see people decline praise 
 which really tickled them excessively. 
 
 On the next evening but one, when the 
 Aunt and Manna went out upon the flat 
 roof to look at the stars, they found an 
 excellent telescope placed on a movable 
 stand. When they thanked Sonnenkamp 
 for this surprise, he asked in return only 
 one favor, that Fraulein Dournay would 
 accompany the family to Carlsbad ; but she 
 declined positively, as the Professorin also 
 did. 
 
 Pranken had come back ; he thought it 
 absurd to appear offended, and to do this 
 tutor the honor of looking, upon him as a 
 rival. He was made happy by the uncon- 
 strained and cordial greeting he received 
 from Manna, who treated him .with more 
 familiarity than ever before. 
 
 " I am glad," he said to her, " that you 
 have something of the sphinx in you, like 
 other women. I was mistaken in you, and 
 am rejoiced that I was mistaken. What is 
 puzzling and constantly offering new prob- 
 lems, keeps life fresh." 
 
 Manna did not understand him, but she 
 asked for no explanation ; she only told 
 him with regret that the Aunt and the Pro- 
 fessorin were not going with them to Carls- 
 bad. Pranken thought this very proper, 
 and Manna looked at him in surprise when 
 he spoke of the pretensions of these Hugue- 
 nots. 
 
 " And Herr Dournay," he added, " will 
 he stay behind also, declining as firmly and 
 decidedly as he did to go to Vichy last 
 year ? " 
 
 "* I don't know," answered Manna. 
 "Papa," she called out to her father, who 
 came up just then, " is Herr Captain Dour- 
 nay going with us to the Baths ? " 
 
356 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHJNE. 
 
 " Certainly. lie belongs to the family, 
 and understands that he does ; he has not 
 objeeted for a moment." 
 
 Tranken was in some embarrassment; 
 he took this compliance quite as a matter 
 of course, and added that perhaps Herr 
 Captain .Dournay — emphasizing the title, 
 would find his friend, the negro Adams, the 
 Prince's footman, at Carlsbad, and would 
 be able to perfect the intimacy which he 
 had begun here. Pranken hoped, perhaps, 
 to bring out some cutting remark about 
 Eric, but, to his surprise, neither Sonnen- 
 kamp nor Manna answered a word : he was 
 forced to wind up the subject, by saying 
 that these atheists and democrats must of 
 course disorganize all social arrangements, 
 
 and fraternize with a negro ; it was only 
 praiseworthy in Herr Dournay to, act con- 
 sistently with his principles. 
 
 Bella and Clodwig only just made a pass- 
 ing call, to say that they were going to 
 Carlsbad and should be very glad to meet 
 their friends there. 
 
 Bella was especially animated in her ex- 
 pressions of pleasure at the idea of meeting 
 them constantly for weeks together ; she 
 promised herself and her friends great 
 enjoyment, ancf was enough at her ease to 
 say jokingly to Eric, that if a charity-con- 
 cert was given, at which she played, he must 
 
 sin «\ 
 
 Eric assented, without the least embar- 
 rassment. 
 
THE COUNTKY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 357 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE PRIDE OF OUR PLANET. 
 
 The season at Carlsbad was unusually 
 brilliant. Seldom had so many of the no- 
 bility and so many adventurers assembled 
 at the Baths. To the second class, but 
 perhaps also to the first, belonged Sonnen- 
 kamp, who arrived with a great retinue, wife 
 and daughter, son, tutor, gouvernante, and a 
 numbe:* of servants, the latter, however, 
 not dressed in livery, but modestly, in plain 
 citizens 1 clothes. 
 
 The Count, as well as Clodwig and Bella, 
 had been at the Baths a week when Son- 
 nenkamp's household arrived. Clodwig 
 took his young friend, with some solemnity, 
 to the spring, and told how he himself had 
 once been brought thereby the philosopher, 
 Schelling, who said to him, — 
 
 " Behold ! this spring is the pride of our 
 planet." 
 
 All conventional distinctions must cease 
 before such a fountain of health as this, 
 Clodwig added, for it says to us, — You 
 must leave your lofty and your lowly dwell- 
 ings ; in my presence, all are alike high-born 
 and low-born. Clodwig had already caught 
 the liberal tone. 
 
 On the very day of Sonnenkamp's arrival, 
 a guest was departing whose modesty was 
 equal to the consideration in which he was 
 held ; it was Weidmann. Eric met him 
 just as he was drinking his last draught 
 from the spring. The relations between 
 the Sovereign and this President of the rep- 
 resentatives, an unyielding opposer of the 
 Court policy, long furnished matter of con- 
 versation among the guests ; the Sovereign 
 had twice invited him to his table, and ad- 
 dressed him several times when they had 
 met upon the morning walk. Statisticians 
 differed somewhat in regard to the latter 
 point, some maintaining that these morning 
 conversations had taken place twice, others 
 that they had occurred as often as thrice, or 
 even four times. 
 
 Again Eric's meeting with Weidmann 
 was short and unsatisfactory, and he disliked 
 to be always reiterating his intention of vis- 
 iting him. 
 
 Clodwig also presented Eric at once to 
 an old friend of his, a well-known banker 
 of liberal education from the great business 
 capital, whom he met every year at some 
 baths, either at Gastein or Ostend, if not 
 here, and with whom, on such occasions, he 
 always spent many hours of the day. The 
 two men were both seventy years old, but 
 the Banker had all the restlessness of youth ; 
 he was as. eager for knowledge as a German 
 student, and as talkative as a Frenchman 
 
 in a railway carriage. Clodwig, on the 
 other hand, preserved always a great repose 
 of manner, hardly ever speaking when in 
 motion, but always «topping if he had any- 
 thing to say, or any reply to make to the 
 remarks of a friend. 
 
 The Banker took pains to tell Eric, early 
 in their acquaintance, that he was a Jew. 
 
 Owing, doubtless, to the warm commen- 
 dations Xhat Clodwig had bestowed upon his 
 young friend, the old man took advantage 
 of every opportunity of being in his com- 
 pany, a complaisance which Eric did not 
 reciprocate, he not being accustomed to 
 play the part of listener rather than of 
 speaker, and feeling moreover jealous of 
 the banker, who engrossed so much of Clod- 
 wig's time, when he had depended on en- 
 joying the Count's society himself every 
 day during their visit here. 
 
 At the breakfast-table, the Prince and 
 Countess Bella were as usual a frequent 
 subject of conversation ; they were served 
 up with the favorite dish of delicate pastry. 
 A more interesting topic than even the 
 Countess's toilette were the frequent, almost 
 daily walks, which the Prince took in her 
 company, apparently much to the enjoy- 
 ment of both parties, as the King was often 
 heard laughing at her ready sallies. Clod- 
 wig also could congratulate himself on hav- 
 ing received many marks of favor. 
 
 Bella established a little court of her own. 
 She breakfasted with a company of chosen 
 friends in the open air, where every one 
 could see her, and her table was always 
 adorned with the choicest flowers. It was 
 even said that the bands played a waltz of 
 her composition. 
 
 The Wine-Cavalier also spent a few days 
 at the Baths, and the painter Potiphar, as 
 Bella called him, because he had the misfor- 
 tune to be surnamed Tailor. This was the 
 fourth watering-place that the Cavalier had 
 honored this summer with his studied ele- 
 gance, his private album, and his neat little 
 anecdotes. His only object in coming to 
 Carlsbad was, as he often repeated, to pay 
 his respects to his highly esteemed neigh- 
 bors. Bella received him coldly, and Clod- 
 wig pleaded business as an excuse for seeing 
 but little of him, so that after playing a few 
 games with a famous chess-player who was 
 among the visitors, he departed. 
 
 The painter Potiphar zealously instructed 
 Eric in the private histories of all the men 
 and women who were drinking the waters, 
 and his companion's ignorance and innocence 
 in these interesting matters were a marvel to 
 him. 
 
 When Sonnenkamp met Bella and the 
 Prince walking together, as he did every 
 
358 
 
 THE . COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 day, Bella nodded graciously, and the 
 King also bowed silently, but in spite of the 
 frequency of their meeting ne\ner addressed 
 him. 
 
 The Cabinetsrath was present as one of 
 the Court, and with him and an experienced 
 officer of police, who always hovered about 
 the sovereign at a distance, Sonnenkamp 
 usually took his morning walk. 
 
 Pranken, who had his own independent 
 lodging, but joined himself to the Sonnen- 
 kamp party, was soon initiated into the life 
 of the various groups. 
 
 A beautiful Wallachian, who always went 
 about dressed in deep mourning, with a 
 black veil upon her head, and spoke to no 
 one, contested with Sonnenkamp the glory 
 of being the most remarkable object of the 
 season. It was said that the handsome 
 stranger had had the misfortune to discover, 
 soon after her marriage, that her husband 
 had another wife. 
 
 Manna took no part in the morning gaie- 
 ties at the spring ; after holy mass, she re- 
 mained in the house, spending a great por- 
 tion of her time in practising on the harp, 
 for which purpose she had chosen a room 
 out of hearing of the other visitors. 
 
 Frau Ceres awakened general excitement, 
 by being taken to the spring every morning 
 in a chair on wheels. In her lap she always 
 held a little dog, and in her hand a fresh 
 rose. 
 
 Pranken was assiduous in his attention to 
 her, and Fraulein Perini never failed to 
 walk by her side. At noon, Frau Ceres 
 appeared beautifully dressed among the 
 promenaders. . 
 
 All the visitors at the spring were aston- 
 ished at this, and every morning all eyes 
 followed her, in wonder at her allowing 
 herself to be wheeled through the crowd, 
 though she was in perfeet health. But the 
 lady was unconscious of the anger she 
 excited, and only rejoiced in what seemed 
 to her the general admiration. 
 
 After the first three days, Eric forbade 
 his pupil to go to the spring in the morn- 
 ing, a regulation which Sonnenkamp remon- 
 strated against, feeling a pride in the 
 universal admiration the handsome boy 
 received. But Eric declared that it was 
 impossible to attend to studies after hearing 
 music in the morning, and the two there- 
 fore remained by themselves. Whenever 
 they appeared abroad, however, men and 
 women alike agreed that they had never 
 seen a handsomer boy, or a man of more 
 attractive appearance. 
 
 Pranken often complained that the ex- 
 traordinary favor shown him by the Sover- 
 
 eign obliged him often to spend whole days 
 away from his friends. 
 
 Sonnenkamp could boast of being re- 
 ceived into the most select society, thanks 
 to the influence of Bella, It was no mat- 
 ter to him that the aristocracy said among 
 themselves that a bath-acquaintance did 
 not necessitate any subsequent relation 
 with a man. He hoped, nay, he was 
 almost sure, that during his stay here at 
 Carlsbad, the first step would be taken 
 that should put him on an equality with the 
 best ; in the meanwhile he conducted him- 
 self in the most free and easy manner, as 
 a peer among peers. 
 
 Already his relations to Bella had as- 
 sumed a character which added a fresh 
 interest to his life here. They had always 
 been secretly attracted together, chiefly 
 by admiration of a certain heroic power 
 which each saw to exist in the other, and 
 which each held to be the one mark of dis- 
 tinction from the masses. This daily inter- 
 course now revealed more distinctly to 
 them what they had only glimpses of during 
 the winter in the capital. 
 
 Both agreed perfectly in looking upon 
 all communities, all human society, as noth- 
 ing but a tacit agreement to tell lies : no 
 one believes his neighbor, no one honors 
 his neighbor ; all that is valued is a certain 
 outside show, a humbug, which must be 
 kept up as long as it can ; no one, except a 
 few idiots of teachers or idealists, actually 
 believes in the idols of his own constructing. 
 
 Sonnenkamp admired Bella extremely, 
 and maintained that she was the only wo- 
 man of spirit and intellect he had ever met, 
 a declaration which both knew to be true, 
 in spite of their agreeing that all fair words 
 were nothing but lying conventionalities. 
 Bella knew that she had spirit, and ac- 
 knowledged Sonnenkamp's right to bear wit- 
 ness to it. 
 
 He repeatedly gave her to understand 
 that he alone appreciated the greatness of 
 her nature. 
 
 "The man who should have a wife like 
 you, 11 he once said openly to her, " and 
 were himself a man — a dominant nature 
 with a wife like you would establish a 
 new throne in the world. I consider it a 
 privilege to have been allowed to know a 
 nature so born to rule as yours. 11 
 
 He said it half in a tone of gallantry, but 
 she knew he meant it in earnest, and she 
 took it in earnest, being full of contempt 
 for the pettinesses of the world, where half 
 the people found pleasure in intrigue, and 
 the other half in what they call humanity, 
 which is really nothing but sentimentality. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 359 
 
 Their mutual salutations, therefore, if 
 they only met and passed, were significant, 
 and implied a secret understanding. Their 
 glance said : We alone are strong, and we 
 are great enough to scorn all trifling. 
 
 One beautiful July morning Bella gave 
 a great breakfast, to which the Sonnenkamp 
 family was invited, and Manna came with 
 her mother ; there were also present the 
 Cabinetsrathin, the Adjutant-general, be- 
 sides several others of the highest nobility, 
 botL gentlemen and ladies, from different 
 countries. 
 
 The rich and tasteful arrangement of the 
 flowers on the breakfast-table excited the 
 admiration of the guests. Bella presented 
 Herr Sonnenkamp as the generous and 
 skilful giver, and, with great tact, called 
 the attention of the guests to the admirable 
 taste in arranging flowers possessed by I 
 this famous garden-artist, whom she even 
 proclaimed the true high priest of flowers. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was delighted at the impres- 
 sion produced. 
 
 Manna timidly remarked that her taste 
 was offended by the profusion of flowers 
 displayed here on all occasions ; she 
 thought that massing them together, arid 
 tying them into close bunches, destroyed the 
 whole character of the flowers, of roses 
 especially ; their tender nature suffered 
 from such treatment. 
 
 Eric replied that, without these flowers, 
 life here would lose an important element 
 of brilliancy and cheerfulness ; that the 
 purest and best things were not safe from 
 abuse and exaggeration, but that we should 
 not therefore lose sight of the beautiful 
 underlying principle. 
 
 Pranken observed the impression which 
 these words made, and gave a more lively 
 turn to the conversation, by saying that he 
 too did not like bouquets ; flowers, birds, 
 and women were the ornaments of life, and 
 should be dealt tenderly with and left un- 
 confined. 
 
 Jest and merriment now reigned su- 
 preme. All were in that happy frame of 
 mind which is induced by the drinking of 
 the waters and the fresh morning air. 
 There was not wanting an object on which 
 to exercise their wit, in the person of a long 
 lieutenant from Schwarzburg-Sondershau- 
 sen. or Schwarzhausen-Sonderburg, as 
 Bella always called it. The long lieutenant 
 had openly confessed that his object in 
 coming to the Baths was to bless the daugh- 
 ter of some rich commoner with his title. 
 He had made Bella his confidante, and she 
 amused herself now by bringing him into 
 all manner of ridiculous positions. 
 
 The tall lieutenant took it all in good 
 
 part ; his standing joke was that he regret- 
 ted, on his honor, Roland's not being Son- 
 nenkamp's daughter, that he might marry 
 her. 
 
 . Manna blushed, for this plainly implied 
 that she was considered betrothed to 
 Pranken. 
 
 There was a good .deal of gossip about 
 some of the guests at the Baths, their loose 
 and frivolous lives, all of which Manna 
 listened to with the rest, secretly thinking 
 all the while : It is well to know all the dis- 
 cord and confusion of the wicked world 
 before leaving it forever. 
 
 Eric divined that some such thought was 
 in her mind, and said in a low tone : — 
 
 "In the Bible God says that he will 
 spare Sodom, if a few righteous persons are 
 found in it. And so it is now. The sun 
 [ shines, the birds sing, the flowers bloom, 
 and the world is better than it seems." 
 
 "So you are a believer too? 1 ' asked 
 Manna softly. 
 
 " Yes ; but in a different way from yours." 
 On rising from table, Clodwig, Sonnen- 
 kamp, Eric, Roland, and the Banker, started 
 on a long walk in the woods, while Bella 
 kept Manna by her. Pranken also staid 
 behind with the ladies, being excused to- 
 day from attendance on the Prince. 
 
 Bella had succeeded in getting invita- 
 tions for Sonnenkamp and his family to the 
 next assembly, at which only the first no- 
 bility of Europe were to be present, and 
 began to talk over with Manna the dress 
 she should wear on the occasion. Manna 
 had begged to be allowed to stay at home, 
 but this was declared impossible, and she 
 had been obliged to consent to appear. 
 
 Meanwhile the men were taking their 
 walk through the woods.! Eric had joined 
 Clodwig at once, and made him smile by 
 saying that he had never before participa- 
 ted in the gaieties of a watering-place, and 
 that the life here almost bewildered him. 
 He wondered whether it would be possible 
 to induce men to go, for a few weeks of 
 every year, to some place for the cure of 
 their souls. In this care for the bodily 
 health was exhibited a selfishness which the 
 world usually took pains to conceal. Clod- 
 wig had remained standing, while Eric thus 
 spoke. 
 
 " You will never feel quite at home in 
 the world," he answered, continuing his 
 walk. 
 
 Af a turn in the road, Eric fell back and 
 allowed Sonnenkamp to go in front with 
 Clodwig. There was something at once at- 
 tractive' and repulsive to Clodwig in the 
 society of Sonnenkamp. He had never 
 seen such a man before, and was chiefly im- 
 
360 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 pressed by the sort of courage he possessed 
 in assuming no foreign disguise. 
 
 Sonnenkamp made another attempt to in- 
 duce the Count to use his influence in pro- 
 curing him a title, but was treated as he 
 never before had been in his life, by receiv- 
 ing a most crushing answer couched in 
 words of courtesy. 
 
 " I am amazed at your courage and for- 
 bearance," he said ; but the idea conveyed 
 by the words was : I detest your insolence 
 and importunity. 
 
 " You are indefatigable, and may stand 
 on an equality with the rulers, 1 ' were the 
 words, b*t the meaning was : You are a 
 shameless tyrant. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had experienced many 
 strange things in his life, but never this 
 lashing a man to madness with courteous 
 words. He kept a smiling countenance, 
 however, not daring to show any sense of 
 injury, while Clodwig maintained a calm 
 superiority, tapping occasionally on his 
 golden snuff-box, as if saying to all the 
 tickling spirits within : Have patience ; the 
 man is getting a strong dose. Finally he 
 opened the box and offered Sonnenkamp a 
 pinch, which the latter accepted with thanks. 
 
 Eric meanwhile was walking with the 
 Banker. There was one point of common 
 interest between them, their admiration of 
 Clodwig. The Banker maintained that 
 scarce any one but a man of rank- could be 
 so independent and thoroughly human. 
 
 Roland cast a glance at Eric which 
 seemed to say : You see this man says the 
 same thing. 
 
 Eric zealously opposed this idea, and the 
 Banker, who assumed a rather patronizing 
 tone in conversing with the young scholar, 
 was easily converted, and broke out into 
 enthusiastic praise of Eric. 
 
 A great pleasure was awaiting Eric on 
 his return from his morning walk, in the 
 arrival of his friend and teacher, Professor 
 Einsiedel. 
 
 The poor man of science felt himself quite 
 lost and helpless in such a place as Carls- 
 bad, whither he had been ordered by his 
 fellow-professor, the first physician of the 
 University. Eric made the necessary ar- 
 rangements for his board and lodging, and 
 whatever else he needed, feeling it a privi- 
 lege to serve him in every way in his 
 power. 
 
 AYhile standing with his teacher, Eric 
 perceived Sonnenkamp in the distance talk- 
 ing with Professor Crutius, who had just 
 arrived. Crutius seemed unwilling to ac- 
 cept Sonnenkamp's friendly advances, and 
 yet could find no way of avoiding them. 
 When Sonnenkamp offered his hand at I 
 
 parting, however, he did not take it, but 
 raised his hat instead with a formal salute. 
 
 Eric was so fortunate as to find a room 
 for his teacher in the same house with his 
 own party. 
 
 CIIAPTER XIII. 
 A WHIRL OF BODY AND MIND. 
 
 Beautifully dressed, with flowers in her 
 hair, Manna walked to and fro in the great 
 drawing-room. The sight of her uncovered 
 neck and shoulders in the long mirror 
 seemed to shock her, and she drew more 
 closely about her the encircling cloud of 
 tulle. Roland and Eric entered. Eric 
 stood motionless. 
 
 " How late you are ! 11 said Manna. 
 Eric explained that he had been intro- 
 ducing his teacher to the routine of water- 
 ing-place life, and expressed the hope that 
 Manna would enjoy the society of the deli- 
 cate-minded old man. 
 
 "Your teacher? 1 ' said Manna, and 
 again Eric noticed the tears in her voice. 
 "Introduce me to him to-morrow. But 
 now make haste, or you will be late to the 
 assembly." 
 
 "I am not invited, 11 replied Eric. 
 44 No ! he is not invited, and so I am not 
 going either, 11 cried Roland. 
 
 The father and mother appeared, but 
 their persuasions had no effect upon the 
 boy. He would not even yield to Eric's 
 urgent entreaty, but persisted in remaining 
 behind. After the family had actually 
 driven off to the Hall, Roland appeared to 
 regret not having gone with them, and in- 
 sisted on Eri^s taking him to the gallery, 
 whenee they could see the dancing. 
 
 Pranken was manager of the assembly, 
 and Manna shared the distinction with him. 
 Her cheeks glowed, and she seemed in great 
 spirits, but to Roland's vexation, she did 
 not once look up to the gallery. Manna, in 
 fact, hardly knew herself. In the midst of 
 the gaiety, she said to Pranken : — 
 
 " Did you know that Captain Dournay's 
 teacher had arrived ? " 
 
 Pranken knit his brows. So she was 
 thinking of him in the midst of this gaiety ! 
 He was silent for awhile, not knowing what 
 to reply ; at last he said in a light tone : — 
 "Ah, teacher! Don't you get tired of 
 this whole pack of teachers ? Here we have 
 pleasing music, dancing, — come ! " 
 
 He whirled her swiftly among the circle 
 of dancers, and she felt as if she were no 
 longer upon the ground, but were floating 
 in the air. 
 
 " Let us go ! 11 said Roland to Eric in the 
 i gallery. They left the hall, and took by 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 361 
 
 moonlight the same beautiful walk through 
 the forest that they had enjoyed in the 
 morning. 
 
 " Is there no way in which I may relieve 
 myself of a secret that has been confided to 
 me ? " asked Eoland. " I should so like to 
 talk it over with you ! May 1 not tell it 
 you ? " 
 
 "No, you must not under any circum- 
 stances break your word. If you did, you 
 would lose all hold upon yourself." 
 
 Roland sighed ; he sorely wanted to tell 
 Eric that his family was to receive a title. 
 
 When they came out upon the clearing, 
 and saw the town and the whole valley ly- 
 ing in the moonlight, and heard a few broken 
 strains of music from the ball-room rising 
 through the night air, Roland returned to 
 the subject : — 
 
 M I have an idea that this evening Manna 
 is to be openly acknowledged as Pranken's 
 bride. My mother thinks that that will 
 help forward the accomplishment of the other 
 secret. Can you not guess what it is ? " 
 
 Eric replied with great self-control, that it 
 was not honorable of Roland to speak of 
 any family matters that had been confided 
 to him. 
 
 He spoke with a trembling voice. This 
 thing, which had been so long decided, sud- 
 denly came upon him as something new, 
 unheard of, improbable. With rapture and 
 yet with fear, he perceived that he had al- 
 lowed Manna to become dearer to him than 
 he ought. He buried the point of his cane 
 deep in the ground, and pressed upon it so 
 violently that it broke to pieces in his hand. 
 He told Roland it was time they went home. 
 
 The carriage drove up to the door just as 
 they reached the house, and out of it came 
 Sonnenkamp, followed by Frau Ceres and 
 Manna. 
 
 " Are you betrothed to Pranken ? " asked 
 Roland. 
 
 " You silly child ! " returned Manna, as 
 she ran quickly up the steps. 
 
 Sonnenkamp sent Roland to bed, and 
 asked Eric to go with him into his room. 
 
 "Here is a mild brand of cigar, 1 ' he said, 
 throwing himself back in his arm-chair, 
 '* light one. Captain Dournay, I look upon 
 you as one of the family ; you are ours, and 
 must ever remain so." 
 
 Eric trembled. Had the father's suspic- 
 ions been roused by Roland's awkward 
 question, and was he about to tell him that 
 he must giv« up all thought of Manna ? 
 Or was he about to offer him his daughter's 
 hand ? He had time enough to entertain 
 these opposing thoughts, for Sonnenkamp 
 made a lon<* pause; in the evident expecta- 
 tion of receiving some answer to his friendly 
 
 address. But as his companion remained 
 silent, he got up, and after taking several 
 turns up and down the room, suddenly 
 stopped before Eric and said : — 
 
 " I give you to-day the most indubitable 
 proof that I consider you one of ourselves. 
 Give me your hand." 
 
 Eric did so, and shuddered as he touched 
 the iron ring on the man's thumb. 
 
 Sonnenkamp continued : — 
 
 " I recognize and honor your reserve." 
 
 Eric's eyes wandered uneasily. What 
 did all this mean ? 
 
 After several hasty puffs at his cigar, 
 Sonnenkamp continued : — 
 
 " You have never, in any way, alluded to 
 what has been going on among us, though 
 you cannot have failed to be aware of it." 
 
 Eric .still trembled. Sonnenkamp kept 
 making such unusual pauses. 
 
 At last, bringing the words out with an 
 effort, he said : — 
 
 " You know that I am about-to receive a 
 title ? " 
 
 " No, I did not know it." 
 
 "You did not? Is it possible? Did 
 Roland give you no hint ? " 
 
 "A hint indeed of some secret, but I 
 strictly forbade him to relate, even by a 
 breath, any confidence that had been re- 
 posed in him." 
 
 "Good. You're a good teacher. Iam 
 grateful to you, sincerely grateful. I will 
 be yet more so. You shall have proof of it. 
 To be open with you, Captain Dournay — 
 you can give me substantial help by fur- 
 thering this plan of mine." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Yes, you. You are the friend of our 
 noble Count Wolfsgarten. He is already 
 one of our family, but he always declines to 
 discuss this matter, when I, or any of my 
 friends, address him upon the subject. 
 You know me, my dear Captain ; you have 
 watched my life, and your eye is keen ; I 
 have a right to expect that, with all my 
 faults, of which, unhappily, I have my share, 
 you will judge of me justly and charitably. 
 You are a man who will act as he thinks. 
 You understand me ? " 
 
 " Not entirely, I confess/' 
 
 " Plainly, then, in a few days I shall give 
 a rural fete at Heilingthal. I will take the 
 Jew with me, and you can go with your 
 friend Wolfsgarten, and can easily discover 
 what sort of opinion he will give of me, or 
 has already given." 
 
 "'Would not Herr von Pranken, or the 
 Countess, or the Cabinetsrathin, be better 
 suited for such an office ? " 
 
 "No; in that case I should not trouble 
 you with it. Count Wolfsgarten has de- 
 
362 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 clined expressing any opinion, saying al- 
 ways in his pedantic — I mean in his strict- 
 ly honorable manner, that a judgment which 
 is to be expressed in confidence to the 
 Prince should be made known to no one 
 else. In a few days the Prince will depart ; 
 he is favorably disposed. You will there- 
 fore discover this for me, dear Dournay, 
 will you not ? It will be so easy for you ! 11 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, 11 replied Eric, " you 
 had the kindness to say a few moments ago 
 that I did right in forbidding Roland to be- 
 tray a secret. How shall I 11 
 
 "Ah, my dear Dournay, 11 interrupted 
 Sonnenkamp, "we may reasonably allow 
 ourselves many things that we should forbid 
 a young person to do. I respect, I honor 
 your truthfulness. I acknowledge the great 
 sacrifice you would make in rendering me 
 this service fully, thoroughly, but you will 
 make the sacrifice, will you not? 11 
 
 Eric tried to decline the task. Sonnen- 
 kamp threvf his head back, and whistled 
 softly to himself, while Eric maintained with 
 great earnestness that he was not good at 
 sounding others 1 opinions, and that he should 
 consider it a betrayal of friendship to repeat 
 anything which was said to him confiden- 
 tially. "Besides, 11 he concluded, "I do 
 not think that Count Wolfsgarten would 
 express his opinion any more fully to me. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp was inwardly angry, but 
 summoned all his powers of self-control to 
 his aid. He praised Eric's conscientiousness ; 
 spoke with enthusiasm of his delicate tact, 
 his moral purity, and the loftiness of his 
 ideal ; he went so far as to apologize for 
 having fancied, even for a moment, that Eric 
 was more than a friend to Bella ; his un- 
 happy experience among men, he said, 
 must serve as his excuse for the injustice ; 
 he considered it as the greatest of privileges 
 to have been once allowed the acquaintance 
 of a thoroughly pure and noble man. 
 
 Eric had never supposed that this man 
 knew him so well ; this Sonnenkamp must 
 have a nobler mind than he had given him 
 credit for, to be able to read so well the 
 noble struggles of others. 
 
 The impression he had made was not lost 
 upon Sonnenkamp. He laid his hand on 
 Eri^s shoulder, and said with a trembling, 
 almost a tearful voice, — 
 
 " My dear young friend ! Yes, my friend 
 — I call you so, for you are such — even if 
 I have not myself the right to claim so close 
 an intimacy with you as I should like, con- 
 sider what a great, what a necessary influ- 
 ence indeed you may exert — not for me; 
 of what consequence am I ? — but for our 
 Roland. For our Roland ! 11 he repeated 
 siirnificantlv. The mention of Roland's name 
 
 suddenly roused Eric as from a dream. 
 He answered by asking why Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp desired a title for Roland. 
 
 " Oh, my friend ! 11 Sonnenkamp contin- 
 ued with increasing affection, " that is the 
 last, the only object of all my efforts in the 
 Old World and in the New. Oh, my friend ! 
 Who can tell you how soon I may die ? 
 You will remain the friend, the support of 
 my son. Give me your hand upon it. 
 Promise me you will so continue. I shall 
 'die without a fear, knowing he is under 
 your protection. Alas, no one suspects 
 how ill, how shaken I am. I force myself 
 to appear firm and erect, but I am inwardly 
 broken. The labors and struggles of life 
 have sapped my strength. Any moment 
 may end my life, and I would gladly leave 
 my son in an assured position. You, my 
 friend, love our beautiful, glorious Germany ; 
 you will be glad to secure to her a strong 
 and faithful son. Should Roland continue 
 as he is, should he preserve his present 
 name, he will always consider himself a cit- 
 izen of the world across the ocean, not a 
 true son of our noble Germany, where alone 
 a man of mind and of means can find a 
 sphere for his usefulness. Forgive me if I 
 do not express myself as warmly as I feel, 
 and as I ought, to a friend like you. I ouly 
 ask you to add to your other benefits to 
 Roland that of making him a son of Ger- 
 many ; if not for our sakes, yet for the sake 
 of our dear country. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp well knew what a responsive 
 strain he touched in Eric, by those tender 
 ! words from the anxious heart of a father, 
 ; and by this broad, reverent outlook, not only 
 I beyond his own death, but beyond all 
 thought of self. Eric was touched, and 
 ' said : ' 
 
 " I would give my life for Roland 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp would have embraced him, 
 but Eric begged him to listen further. 
 
 " My life I can give up, but not my prin- 
 ciples. I am willing to adopt your views 
 of the matter in a moment, if you can con- 
 vince me I am mistaken. Do you really 
 
 j believe that it would add to Roland's happi- 
 ness to have a title ? 11 
 
 "It would make his happiness; without 
 that he would have no happiness. Iam sure 
 
 I you will not misunderstand me, my very dear, 
 
 [ noble friend. I frankly confess to you that I 
 prize money highly ; I have worked hard for 
 it, and should like to keep it ; I should like to 
 convert my personal property into real estate, 
 
 j at least in a great measure : I want my son 
 freelv to enjoy what I have toiled with un- 
 
 ! remitting industry to obtain. Oh, my friend, 
 you do not know — it is better you should 
 not know what blows my life has borne, be- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 363 
 
 cause I — but no more of that; it would 
 agitate me too much to-day. I had a tutor 
 — a shrewd man, but unhappily not of such 
 moral purity as yourself — who, I remem- 
 ber, often said to me : He only is free who 
 is not bound to the same level with others, 
 but is entitled to be judged by a loftier stand- 
 ard. Ä genius, a man like yourself, my 
 dear friend, is by nature so entitled ; but 
 all are not geniuses. Genius is unattaina- 
 ble, therefore do men seek a title of nobility 
 that posterity may judge them by that higher 
 standard. I express myself clumsily, do 
 I not? 51 
 
 " Xo ! the thought is subtilely developed. 1 ' 
 " Ah, let us leave all subtleties. But I 
 have after all omitted the chief point; it is 
 well I remember it. It was you who first di- 
 rected my thoughts and my efforts towards 
 this aim." • 
 "I? How so?" 
 
 " Let me remind you. On the first day 
 of your coming among us you told me, and 
 you have often repeated it since, that Ro- 
 land had no special talent that would lead 
 him to the choice of a profession. The re- 
 mark offended me at the time, but I see 
 now that it was perfectly true. For the 
 very reason that Roland is not gifted with 
 genius, he must take rank among the no- 
 bility, have a title, which of itself gives po- 
 sition and dignity to persons of average ca- 
 pacity, who are not able to carve out their 
 own career. A nobleman is not sensitive ; 
 that is his great advantage. A baron or an 
 earl is somebody at the start, and is not 
 obliged to make himself somebody ; if, be- 
 sides that, he has any gifts, they are all 
 clear gain, and the world is grateful for 
 them. We commoners must begin by mak- 
 ing ourselves something ; we are nothing at 
 the start except sensitive, thin-skinned. 
 Ah, my dear friend, I speak very confus- 
 edly. 11 
 
 " By no means." 
 
 " I will say but one thing more. Roland 
 will at some time, and it may be soon, 
 enter on the possession of millions ; if he is 
 a noble, he will not only stand in the circle 
 of the select, but he will have all the obli- 
 gations of honor, of benevolence, of useful- 
 ness, and will have them in a higher degree, 
 because he will be one newly raised, to 
 rank. I open my whole heart to you, my 
 friend — I conceal nothing. Almost the 
 whole inhabited world is known to me, and 
 shall I tell you what I have found in it ? " 
 
 " I should be glad to know. 1 ' 
 
 " Know, then, 11 here Sonnenkamp laid 
 both hands upon Eric's shoulder, " you are 
 a philosopher, a deep thinker — learn some- 
 thing from me. 1 ' 
 
 "Willingly." 
 
 " Let me tell you then, my friend, there 
 are three classes among mankind, each 
 bound so closely together that no member 
 stands alone. A man must belong to one 
 of these in this degenerate world." 
 
 He paused awhile, and then, in answer to 
 Eric's questioning glance, continued : — 
 
 " Yes, my friend, in this world a man 
 must be either a Jew, a Jesuit, or a noble. 
 You smile ? The idea surprises you ? Let 
 me explain. If you survey the whole world 
 you will find that each one of these three 
 classes, and only these, forms a firm, last- 
 ing, indissoluble union among its members. 
 My son cannot be- a Jew, a Jesuit he shall 
 not be, therefore he must be a noble. 11 
 
 Eric was fairly bewildered by Sonnen- 
 kamp's arguments. He strove to exercise 
 his own freedom of thought, but he saw how 
 immovably Sonnenkamp's mind w r as made 
 up, and looking over the past, he perceived 
 how everything had been tending towards 
 this one aim. And after all, might it not 
 be an advantage for Roland to enter the 
 ranks of the nobility ? Might not this be 
 the only means of establishing a home for 
 him in Germany ? 
 
 The interview lasted till far into the 
 night, Sonnenkamp constantly endeavoring 
 to prove the necessity of making Roland a 
 noble, and Eric at last, almost from sheer 
 weariness, promised to use his influence with 
 Clodwig. He got no rest as he lay in bed ; 
 he seemed to himself a traitor, but the voice 
 of the tempter said : — t 
 
 "After all, it is not you who can bring 
 it about, nor he, but the Prince. Whether 
 you lend your aid or not, the thing is sure 
 to be done. Why should you be disoblig- 
 ing and ungrateful? 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 THE TEAQHER^ TEACHER. 
 
 " Ball" — " American" — " Betrothed" 
 — was heard the next morning at the spring 
 in all the different languages, for, inconsis- 
 tent as it may seem, winter gayeties are 
 brought into a place frequented only by in- 
 valids. 
 
 Frau Ceres 1 carriage did not appear at 
 the spring ; she had a tumbler of mineral 
 water brought to her room. 
 
 Before the altar in the village church lay 
 Manna, long after the mass was over, study- 
 ing her own heart. She cried out for help, 
 for support against the world ; she remem- 
 bered the advice of the Priest to make free 
 confession, wherever she might be, to a 
 brother or a father, and she longed to con- 
 fess here ; but she did not, for there was 
 
364 
 
 THE COUNTRY-nOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 one thing she could not tell. For the first 
 time, she left the church with a burden on 
 her heart. 
 
 Eric was fighting his fight with himself 
 out upon the hills. Sonnenkamp had spo- 
 ken with great openness to him, but one 
 thing he had not said, that Pranken was 
 waiting till Manna was titled before an- 
 nouncing the betrothal. He was angry with 
 himself for having' allowed the idea to take 
 possession of him, and perhaps increase, 
 though unconsciously, his repugnance to the 
 commission laid upon him. 
 
 The sudden calling of his name terrified 
 him, though it was pronounced by a gentle 
 voice. Looking up he perceived Professor 
 Einsiedel coming towards him. What bet- 
 ter man could he have to clear up his doubts 
 and restore his peace of mind ? For one 
 moment, he entertained the thought of laying 
 all his questions before the pure and child- 
 like, yet clear and brave spirit, of his old 
 friend ; but neither could he confess, neither 
 could he tell all, and so he too shut his se- 
 cret in his own heart. 
 
 The good old man could not understand 
 how he was to live for weeks without work, 
 without books, doing nothing but nurse his 
 body. Such a cure as this, he said with a 
 childlike smile, was only a sickness with the 
 ability to take walks, and it would be noth- 
 ing worse than sickness if he lay in bed. 
 
 But he soon turned' the conversation from 
 himself, and asked Eric about his studies, 
 and how he was getting on with his great 
 work upon slavery. Before Eric could an- 
 swer, the Professor told him that he was 
 continually making notes upon the subject 
 for him, and that one of the most striking 
 things he had met with was the decision 
 with which Luther, from a religious point 
 of view, had expressed himself in favor of 
 holding slaves. 
 
 " I do not blame Luther," he continued ; 
 " he adopted the views of his day, just as 
 others in other generations have believed in 
 the agency of evil spirits. The language 
 of the great Bossuet shows how much the 
 strongest minds were influenced by the gen- 
 eral belief of the time ; he said that whoever 
 denied the right of holding slaves sinned 
 against the Holy Ghost. Perhaps a future 
 generation will be as little able to under- 
 stand our prejudices.' 1 
 
 Eric found in this morning walk a satis- 
 faction to which he had been long a strang- 
 er. Professor Einsiedel had looked cau- 
 tiously about him as he walked, as if fearing 
 some one might overhear the great secret 
 he was- about to reveal. At last he said : — 
 
 "Dear Doctor," he always called Eric 
 Doctor, "I have been thinking a grdat 
 
 deal about the task of educating a rich youth. 
 The absolutely right I have not found ; 
 that can exist only in the imagination. But 
 so to educate a human being, intellectually 
 and morally, that we can be approximately 
 sure — mark you, I say approximately — 
 that we can be approximately sure, or have 
 reason to believe, that in any given case he 
 will be guided by pure moral laws, that is 
 all that we can hope to do ; and 1 am verb- 
 rauch mistaken, if that is not what you have 
 already succeeded in accomplishing with 
 regard to your pupil. As far as I know 
 the world, — and I was tutor myself once, 
 though only for a short time — as far as I 
 know the world, those of high birth, and no 
 doubt it is the same with those of great, 
 wealth, are full of wishes and cravings ; and 
 the task is to convert these wishes, these 
 cravings, this expectancy, into active will 
 and effort. Your handsome pupil has ex- 
 cellent dispositions in this respect ; he un- 
 derstands the seriousness of life." 
 
 Never had the forest seemed to Eric so 
 grand, the sunlight so clear, the air so in- 
 vigorating, the whole world so transfigured, 
 as when he heard this testimony from his 
 teacher's lips. Silently he walked by his 
 side, and sat with him in the forest ; he 
 would gladly have kissed the good man's 
 delicate hand. 
 
 At another time, Professor Einsiedel ad- 
 monished Eric that he was falling into the 
 very error common among rich men of 
 neglecting his own culture. 
 
 " Living with others is good," he said; 
 "but living with one's self is better ; and 
 I fear you have not lived as you should 
 with yourself." 
 
 He asked Eric plainly how far he had 
 finished his book, and like a school-boy 
 who finds himself detected in laziness and 
 neglect of duty, Eric was obliged to con- 
 fess that it had altogether dropped out of 
 his mind. The face of the Professor sud- 
 denly collapsed, as if it were nothing but 
 wrinkles ; after a long silence he said, — 
 
 " You are inflicting the greatest injury 
 on yourself and your pupil." 
 
 " On myself and my pupil? " . 
 
 M Yes. You have no intellectual work 
 of your own to counteract the daily dis- 
 tractions of your profession, and, there- 
 fore, you do not bring to your teaching the 
 necessary freshness and elasticity. I have 
 been a teacher myself, and always made it 
 a rule to preserve inviolate my own intel- 
 lectual sanctum, and in that way con- 
 stantly renewed my strength. It is one of 
 the conditions of a proper education, that 
 the teacher should not be always at the dis- 
 posal of his pupil. The pupil should un- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 365 
 
 derstand, that living side by side with him 
 is another human being like himself, who 
 has his own life to nourish, and that no one 
 has a right to command from another the 
 total surrender of himself and all his 
 powers. You must never consider your- 
 self as a finished man ; mark, I say fin- 
 ished ; you must keep on educating your- 
 self. To be finished is the beginning of 
 death. Look at the leaves upon the trees ; 
 as soon as one has reached its perfection, 
 it begins to turn yellow and shrink. 1 ' 
 
 The words made a deep impression upon 
 Eric. What this man here in this silent 
 wood-path was saying aloud, he had often 
 felt, but had never been willing to confess 
 even to himself. 
 
 " ' Non semper arcum tendit Apollo, 1 
 says Virgil, 11 Eric answered, quoting from 
 his teacher's favorite poet. 
 
 Good, good! that agrees with what I 
 say. Apollo, to be sure, is not always 
 bending his bow, but he never lays it 
 aside ; it remains his inalienable attri- 
 bute. 11 
 
 They went on for some time in silence, 
 till presently the Professor began again, — 
 
 " You are still young ; you must not waste 
 these morning hours of your life. I warn 
 you as your teacher and your father, yes 
 in the very spirit of your father. 'It is my 
 right and my duty thus to speak, for your 
 father should serve you as a warning. 11 
 
 " My father serve me as a warning ? " 
 
 " Yes. I need not remind you of the 
 worth and importance of his labors, but 
 your father often lamented that he had 
 allowed an unworthy regard for his stand- 
 ing in society to interfere with his devotion 
 to pure knowledge; he could not resume 
 the steadiness of his former habits of 
 study. More than that, he found himself 
 thinking of persons while he was writing, 
 instead of thinking only of ideas, which is 
 our religion. If we lose that, we are the 
 worst of idolaters ; our idol is even less 
 than a picture in a temple ; it is the most 
 worthless of all idols, the fickle voice of 
 society. 11 
 
 Eric still remained silent, and the kindly 
 old man began again, — 
 
 " Here is another proof of the wonderful 
 connection of events. Our clinical Profes- 
 sor had to overcome a strong repugnance 
 on my part to undertake this cure ; neither 
 of us knew that the real object of my being 
 sent here was, perhaps, to be a healing- 
 spring to you. 11 
 
 "Indeed you are, 11 exclaimed Eric, as 
 he grasped his teacher's delicate hand. 
 Only for a little while longer, he said, till 
 Roland had entered upon whatever work 
 
 should be next appointed him, he wanted 
 to devote himself entirely to his pupil; 
 then he would return to the service of pure 
 knowledge. 
 
 The Professor warned him not to wait 
 for that, for he should never lose his hold 
 of the world of ideas. 
 
 "Or if you mean to devote yourself to 
 practica^ life," he added, " I have nothing 
 to say against that ; only you must decide 
 on one or the other." 
 
 Eric returned to the hotel as one roused 
 from a dream. He saw the danger which 
 threatened him, of seeking to shine in 
 society by a display of the thoughts and 
 the knowledge he had acquired in the 
 studies which he now no longer pursued. 
 The Professor had touched a very different 
 chord in him from what the Doctor had 
 once stirred. He took pleasure in making 
 his old teacher better acquainted with Clod- 
 wig, the Banker, Sonnenkamp, and particu- 
 larly with Roland, whose lessons he now 
 resumed with an energy which filled the 
 boy with amazement. 
 
 The Professor took especial pleasure in 
 the society of Roland, who called him, as 
 he had done at their first meeting, " grand- 
 teacher. 11 There was a deference and a 
 ready submission in his manner, which filled 
 Eric with delight, when he saw them to- 
 gether. Many a saying of the noble old 
 man's sank deep into the boy's mind. 
 
 "Who would suppose that the long 
 lieutenant and the Professor belonged to 
 the same race of men ? " he once said to 
 Eric. 
 
 Eric liked to leave his pupil as much as 
 possible alone with the Professor, and was 
 gratified by having the latter say to him 
 after a few days, — 
 
 ' ' You have done a good work ; the boy 
 has that sensitive pride in him which we are 
 apt to associate with gentle birth. I should 
 have no fear of his falling into low or 
 criminal habits ; his noble pride would be 
 repelled by their vulgarity. There is no 
 denying the fact that self-esteem amounting 
 to pride can become, under proper guid- 
 ance, a sure moral principle." 
 
 Bella had begun by trying to make a 
 butt of the Professor, but the old man 
 looked at her with an expression of such 
 childlike compassion, and at the same time 
 of such mild rebuke, that she soon dropped 
 her tone of banter, and overlooked the 
 good Professor altogether. 
 
 This unpretending and apparently inex- 
 perienced man formed, however, very de- 
 cided opinions upon all whom he met. 
 Clodwig he perceived to be a good and 
 noble man. His classical education de- 
 
3G6 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 lighted him particularly. ** Classical edu- 
 cation, 11 he said, " is the stone foundation, 
 which, firmly planted in the ground, is 
 itself invisible, but bears up the whole 
 building." 
 
 The Banker was too uneasy and restless 
 to please him, but he gave him credit for 
 possessing a characteristic very common 
 among the Jews, that of gratitude even for 
 intellectual benefits. 
 
 Sonnenkamp inspired the Professor with 
 a shrinking awe. He acknowledged that 
 the feeling was unjust, for the man had 
 always showed great friendliness towards 
 him, but still he could not conquer it. 
 
 He once confessed to Eric that he was 
 afraid of persons who were so strong ; he 
 always felt as if Sonnenkamp would take 
 him up in his arms like a little child and 
 run away with him. He knew he should 
 never understand the man's character per- 
 fectly ; reading characters was something 
 like deciphering inscriptions on stone ; if 
 you cannot make them out at the first 
 glance, you will succeed no better with 
 hard study. 
 
 Quite a new influence was exerted, how- 
 ever, as Professor Einsiedel became more 
 intimate with Manna. In Eric's case, he 
 had recognized instantly his having been 
 sent to this place by that invisible power 
 .which harmonizes all life, for the purpose 
 of bringing help to his young friend. Such 
 was even more the fact with regard to 
 Manna, though here he was not conscious 
 of it. Manna was needing and seeking 
 help, and attached herself, with the loving 
 watchfulness of a daughter, to this delicate 
 man, who outwardly was so childlike and 
 dependent. 
 
 Geology and chemistry have not yet sat- 
 isfactorily settled the manner in which these 
 medicinal springs work their cures, and 
 we are equally ignorant of the workings of 
 that subtle influence by which one man 
 affects another for good or for evil. Thus 
 mysteriously did Professor Einsiedel influ- 
 ence Manna. When she told him of her 
 . desire to enter the convent, he expressed 
 his envy. 
 
 "If I were a Catholic," he said, "I 
 would enter a convent too ; but it must be a 
 different kind of a convent, orfe exclusively 
 for men of science, who have no time or fac- 
 ulty for providing for the necessities of life, 
 and vet have works of importance to carry 
 out." 
 
 Manna smiled, for she could not help 
 thinking of Claus, who also wanted to enter 
 a convent,- so that he might have nothing to 
 do but drink all the time. But she quickly 
 banished all such comparisons ; for here was 
 
 a repose, a devotion to a sacred idea, which 
 might boldly compare itself with the sacred- 
 ness of the church. She trembled at the 
 thought, but could not drive it from her 
 mind. With some timidity, and yet em- 
 boldened by the remembrance of her former 
 undoubting confidence, she ventured to ap- 
 proach the Professor, though only interrog- 
 atively, upon the subject of the necessity of 
 religious faith, as the only means of salva- 
 tion. She was amazed at the sudden ex- 
 citement that blazed up in the quiet little 
 man. 
 
 . " We are no enemies of the church," he 
 said, " for we only make war upon the liv- 
 ing. The church has not been able to 
 fashion the world, nor society, nor a single 
 state ; all it has succeeded in doing, is to 
 found asylums and hospitals. Not to her 
 is given the direction of life, but to classi- 
 cal education, to continually advancing cul- 
 ture. My child, there is a fellow-professor 
 of mine in the University, who persistently 
 maintains that the Corpus juris has done 
 much more for the civilization of the world, 
 than the fragments which are included 
 under the name of the Old and New Testa- 
 ment. I do not wholly agree with him, for 
 the Bible has touched a different chord in 
 the world. Consider, the world has inher- 
 ited from'classical antiquity two great ideas, 
 those of state and nationality. Men were 
 brought up in these two ideas. Then came 
 religion, and taught universality, the one- 
 ness of all mankind, the brotherhood of 
 man, and the unity of humanity. Religion 
 alone could have done it ; it would have 
 been impossible for the Roman civilization 
 under the old and new Cassars. The 
 church has done her work ; she has im- 
 planted the idea of humanity. Now people 
 assemble again in states, in nationalities, 
 still needing to preserve the idea of brother- 
 hood. But forgive me, I am falling too 
 much into the schoolmaster's tone.'' 
 
 " No, no ; pray go on ; I understand. 
 Pray go on ! 11 
 
 " Very well, then ; what was ever purely 
 ideal is not lost to the world, only it must 
 not require to be forever and ever the one 
 sole expression of truth. Here lies the dif- 
 ference between us unbelievers, as we are 
 called, and believers. Let me illustrate my 
 meaning by facts — or do I weary you ? " 
 
 " How can you think so poorly of me? " 
 
 "Forgive me. The present century is 
 laboring for two great objects, the emanci- 
 pation of the serfs, and the abolition of sla- 
 very. They will be accomplished, but not 
 by the church ; no, by the' progress of cul- 
 ture. Forgive me, my child, I do not want 
 to confuse you. Never touch upon the sub- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 367 
 
 ject again, be sure you never do again. I 
 am a patient man, very patient. I want to 
 disturb no one, but I pray you, most ear- 
 nestly I must pray you, never to touch 
 upon these subjects with me again. As I 
 have said, I am sorry if I have spoken 
 slightingly of anything which is sacred and 
 dear to you ; 1 hope it will so continue to 
 you, although I reject it. But I beg you, 
 earnestly beg you, not to approach this 
 theme again. 1 ' 
 
 As Manna walked by the side of the Pro- 
 fessor, she longed for some hand from 
 heaven to snatch her away from him. 
 
 What had she fallen upon ? What words 
 had she had to hear ? and that not from a 
 man of the world, but from one who desired 
 nothing but to end his life in modest quiet. 
 
 No hand from heaven was outstretched 
 to snatch her away, and she gradually suc- 
 ceeded in regaining her tranquillity. 
 
 Ib was well she should have heard this 
 from a man she could not despise. This 
 was the last assault of the tempter ; she 
 would not yield under it. So she promised 
 herself, and pressed her hand on her heart, 
 as if there was something there of which 
 she would keep fast hold. But the deed 
 was done ; she could not recall it. She 
 had lost that for which she had been ready 
 to sacrifice her life, for the church, to 
 which she had been ready to give herself, 
 had done nothing towards destroying this 
 monstrous evil. 
 
 She felt inclined henceforth to avoid the 
 Professor ; but that would have been unjust. 
 What had he done except honestly to tell 
 her his convictions ? 
 
 A feeling of attachment led her still to 
 devote much of her time to him, but both 
 avoided any discussion upon matters of re- 
 ligion ; only Manna would sometimes look 
 up at him with wondering eyes, when he 
 would quote, from heathen writings, sayings 
 which she had been taught to consider the 
 exclusive property of the church. 
 
 A wide horizon opened before her eyes, 
 in which the different religions seemed only 
 so many promontories, and this unassuming, 
 delicately organized man seemed a type of 
 the human individual, who had received into 
 himself and harmonized all contradiction. 
 She saw Eric's reverence for the Professor, 
 his childlike deference, his respectful atten- 
 tion, the submission which he every hour 
 displayed towards him. She watched Eric 
 closely. It surprisedher that this man of 
 strongly marked individuality should be ca- 
 pable of such humble veneration for another. 
 
 Professor Einsiedel was often accompa- 
 nied also by a little dried-up old man of most 
 humble exterior, who always withdrew at 
 
 Manna's approach, as if he felt himself un- 
 worthy to intrude upon the society of men. 
 
 Professor Einsiedel once told Manna the 
 history of this companion of his. They had 
 been school-fellows together, and this man 
 was early taken from his studies on account 
 of the death of his father, and the necessity 
 of providing for his brothers and sisters. 
 He became book-keeper in a great banking 
 house, by which he earned enough not only 
 to support a widowed sister and her chil- 
 dren, but managed, by practising the strict- 
 est economy, to lay by a considerable sum. 
 
 One night, on returning from the theatre, 
 he found that his nephew had broken open 
 his desk, stolen his whole property, and es- 
 caped with it to America. Without telling 
 any one of the robbery — for how could he 
 give up to justice his sister's son ? — he be- 
 gan anew to spare and to save, and thus 
 sacrificed his life for that of another. 
 
 Professor Einsiedel had no idea what a 
 deep impression this simple history made 
 upon Manna, — this* story of silent, unobtru- 
 sive self-sacrifice. 
 
 One subject upon which Manna and Ein- 
 siedel could converse with perfect sympathy 
 was Eric's mother. The Professor took for 
 granted that Manna lived on terms of inti- 
 mate friendship with the noble lady, and he 
 could not find words strong enough to ex- 
 press his appreciation of her firmness 'and 
 nobleness of mind. Manna smiled to hear 
 him say that the Professorin had converted 
 him from a very low opinion of the capabili- 
 ties of her sex, to a conviction that a woman 
 is endowed with all the characteristics of 
 man, only in a more beautiful shape. Man- 
 na also had many pleasant things to tell of 
 Eric's mother. 
 
 This unassuming little man, who had thus 
 dropped by chance into their circle, had 
 exercised on the minds of all an influence 
 far outweighing that of the excitements and 
 allurements of the life in the great world. 
 
 But even in this society, Sonnen kamp 
 thought only of advancing his own plans of 
 self-aggrandizement. In a few days the 
 Prince, Clodwig, and Bella were to 'take 
 their departure ; if he could not win over the 
 Prince, he was resolved to attach all the 
 nobility at least to his interests. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE PROCESSION TURNED TO 
 STONE. 
 
 The day of the fete had arrived. Ro- 
 land rode on in front with Pranken, Son- 
 nenkamp walked with the Banker, and Eric 
 with Clodwig. The day was clear and 
 sunny, without being too warm. A brilliant 
 
368 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 company left their carriages upon the hill, 
 and .strolled down the wood-path to the val- 
 ley below. 
 
 Eric tried to lead the conversation to 
 Sonnenkamp^ receiving a title of nobility, 
 but Clodwig at once interrupted him, and, 
 with a tone of almost parental authority, 
 warned him against mixing himself up in 
 any way with that matter. For the first 
 time, there was something in Clodwig's look 
 that Eric could not fathom. They went 
 down the path in silence. A struggle was 
 going on in Eric's mind, and in Clodwig 
 also was a conflict of feeling concerning his 
 young friend. 
 
 As soon as they reached the valley, Son- 
 nenkamp drew Erie aside, and asked what 
 opinion Clodwig had expressed. Eric re- 
 plied that he declined speaking at all upon 
 the subject. 
 
 "Thank you — thank you very much, 11 
 ejaculated Sonnenkamp, with no apparent 
 reason. 
 
 By the side of the brook in Heilingthal 
 Joseph had already spread the table, and 
 Sonnenkamp had only the addition of a few 
 trifles to suggest. The company assembled 
 was most select, and all expressed surprise 
 and pleasure at the arrangements that had 
 been made. The long lieutenant was par- 
 ticularly eloquent, and called up a singular 
 expression in Sonnenkamp^ face by always, 
 although he was no Austrian, addressing 
 him as Herr von Sonnenkamp. A band of 
 music, stationed in the forest, played sweet 
 and lively airs. A great point of interest 
 was the group of rocks above where the 
 company were seated, which, the story ran, 
 had been the living figures of a marriage 
 procession turned into stone by spirits from 
 the lower world. 
 
 " What can have been^the origin of this 
 tradition ? 11 asked Bella, turning to Eric. 
 
 All gave polite attention, as Eric ex- 
 plained that this was one of the many vari- 
 ations of the Tannhäuser tradition, and that 
 nations in the dawn of civilization gave 
 themselves up to a belief in the old tradi- 
 tions*, which have their root in the ever 
 haunting mystery of the origin of the earth. 
 
 Suddenly a foresters horn was heard, 
 and rocks and valley became the theatre of 
 a strange spectacle. A band of gipsy mu- 
 sicians, fantastically dressed, came sud- 
 denly to view, playing wild melodies, — one 
 young fellow in particular, with raven hair, 
 leaping and dancing as he played upon his 
 fiddle. Great praises were bestowed upon 
 Sonnenkamp for his ingenuity in always 
 devising some new entertainment, and his 
 protestations that this was a surprise even 
 to himself, were taken by some for truth, 
 
 and by others as modesty. A rapid glance, 
 exchanged between himself and Lootz, would 
 have proved to any one who had seen it his 
 sincerity in disclaiming all knowledge of 
 the exhibition. 
 
 Bella encouraged the gipsies to wilder 
 and wilder music, and, on learning that 
 their camp was pitched in the neighborhood, 
 she went to visit it, accompanied by Roland 
 and some of the ladies. The absence of 
 Professor Einsiedel she greatly lamented," 
 as he had told her that the language of the 
 gipsies bore some connection with the Sans- 
 crit. Eric was much surprised at being 
 able to say a few words to these strange 
 people in their own tongue. Bella asked 
 if there was no one in the company who 
 could draw, and insisted on the long lieu- 
 tenant beginning a sketch at once of the 
 gipsy camp, the wretched horse eating a 
 wisp of hay, the wagon, and the old women 
 sitting about an open fire. A wild, impu- 
 dent looking girl, who wore a large crino- 
 line, and smoked a short pipe in a free and 
 easy fashion, soon became her especial fa- 
 vorite. One old hag, pointing her skinny 
 hand at Roland, cried out : — 
 
 " He shall be our king. 11 
 
 "Can you not tell fortunes?" asked 
 Bella, extending her hand to the old wo- 
 man. 
 
 "Not yours, 11 said the gipsy. "But I 
 want that one next you to show me her 
 hand. 11 With great reluctance, Manna con- 
 sented. The old woman gave a wild cry, 
 and exclaimed : — 
 
 " You have a lover by your side, but you 
 must go across the water to get him, and 
 water must flow from your handsome black 
 eyes. But then three sons and two daugh- 
 ters shall you have 11 
 
 Here Manna tore her hand away, and 
 walked on apart from the rest of the party. 
 Much as she despised this criminal sport, 
 and little as the whole company believed in 
 it, it yet strangely affected her. Could 
 Pranken have been the originator of it ? It 
 almost seemed so, and yet he was innocent 
 of the whole thing. 
 
 " I should like to pronounce a ban, 1 ' 
 cried Bella. 
 
 " What sort of one ? 11 asked all present. 
 
 " That for the next fifty years the gipsies 
 should be under its power ; that no poet 
 should glare to sing of them. 11 
 
 Manna went on with the others, but she 
 and all around her seemed as in a dream. 
 In her heart she felt that all this had hap- 
 pened, in order that the thought of it might 
 one day serve to recall the world to her 
 mind, when she had left it forever. It al- 
 ready seemed distant, among the things of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 369 
 
 the past. She stood in the life about her as 
 not a part of it, and she was not of it, for 
 the one thought was ever present to her of 
 renouncing it altogether. This year in the 
 world was her trial year, and she rejoiced 
 to think that several months of it were al- 
 ready gone. 
 
 Bella, who prided herself upon her skill 
 in reading character, often shook her head, 
 and confessed to her brother tliat she could 
 make nothing out of Manna ; in vain she 
 tried to win her confidence ; there was 
 something at bottom which she could not 
 fathom. Manna never spoke to Bella of 
 her desire to return to the convent. Bel- 
 la now put her arm about Manna's waist, 
 and teased her about the three sons and two 
 daughters, but the girl only smiled as if 
 the words had been addressed to some other 
 person. 
 
 On the brow of the hill, under the shade 
 of the pine-trees, carpets had been spread 
 for the ladies, where they rested, while the 
 gentlemen still sat at table, and, at the sug- 
 gestion of the long lieutenant, who had fin- 
 ished his sketch, passed round the wine. 
 
 "Why are you not of the nobility?" 
 asked the long lieutenant of Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " Because Herr Sonnenkamp is a citizen, 1 ' 
 replied Clodwig. 
 
 " Citizens can be made nobles when they 
 have millions " 
 
 At an angry sign from Pranken the young 
 man was here brought to a sudden pause. 
 The Cabinetsrath, however, thought it his 
 duty to add, in consideration of Clodwig's 
 being an influential member of the Com- 
 mittee on Orders, whose good opinion was 
 therefore important : — 
 
 "Truly, if nobleness of mind, great pow- 
 ers, beneficence, and worth of character 
 raise one to the ranks of nobility, our Herr 
 Sonnenkamp is — will certainly become a 
 nobleman." 
 
 The long lieutenant considered himself a 
 great wit, and wits are not easily sup- 
 pressed, even when they have not been 
 drinking champagne ; he therefore ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 * • Excellent — delicious ! Count von Wolfs- 
 garten, you are the wisest of us all; are you 
 also of opinion that a million must have a 
 title ? I mean, of course, not the million, but 
 the man who has the million ? " 
 
 " It is most amiable of you," replied 
 Clodwig, "to exercise in my favor your 
 sovereign right to point out the wisest of 
 us all." 
 
 " Thanks," cried the long lieutenant, 
 " that blow told. But I pray you let me 
 have your opinion." 
 
 " I think," said a stout retired court- 
 
 marshal who boasted of having already lost 
 sixteen pounds at the Baths, "I think that 
 our noble host has the right to require that 
 this discussion should not be continued at 
 this time and in this place. Does not your 
 Excellency agree with me ? " he added, 
 turning to Clodwig. 
 
 Before the Count had time to answer, 
 Sonnenkamp broke in : — 
 
 " On the contrary, I should be most hap- 
 py if my honored guests would so far favor 
 me as to continue the discussion, and allow 
 me to be a listener ; I should take it as a 
 proof that they did not regard me as stran- 
 ger." 
 
 Clodwig, who had broken through his usu- 
 al strict rule of temperance, and allowed 
 himself to be persuaded to drink t wo glasses 
 of champagne, suddenly assumed a knowing 
 look and said : — 
 
 " In that case, Herr Sonnenkamp, let us 
 hear your own opinion upon the subject." 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried the long lieutenant; 
 " the man who has earned millions, and has 
 got up such a fairy entertainment as this, 
 must " 
 
 "Pray, let Herr Sonnenkamp speak," 
 interrupted Clodwig. 
 
 " My honored guests," began Sonnen- 
 kamp, "I have visited every part of the 
 inhabited globe, and have learned that there 
 is and must be everywhere an aristocracy, 
 .one class distinguished above the rest." 
 
 " It is so among horses and dogs," broke 
 in the long lieutenant. " Countess Dingsda 
 of Russia, has two gcayhounds descended 
 
 from the Empress Kitherine 1 mean 
 
 from the Empress Katherine's days." 
 
 The Court-marshal who had lost the six- 
 teen pounds of flesh admonished the long 
 lieutenant in a whisper to hold his tongue, 
 £or he was exposing himself and putting out 
 the whole company. The long lieutenant 
 passed his hand over his brow, and softly 
 promised to obey. 
 
 "Let us hear you further," urged Clod- 
 wig, and Sonnenkamp continued, — 
 
 " It is fortunate also for barbarous races 
 when they possess certain families who pre- 
 sent them, in historical continuation, the 
 various decisive points in their career, and 
 when new families become distinguished by 
 courage or wisdom, and form, as it were, a 
 new dynasty." 
 
 Clodwig observed that the sweat stood in 
 great drops on Sonnenkamp's forehead, and 
 said, with great friendliness, — 
 
 " It might be said that the distinctive 
 prerogative of the nobility was to unite cul- 
 ture and courage ; one should never be sep- 
 arated from the other. I hope you will un- 
 derstand me aright when I say that the titles 
 
370 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 of nobility perpetuate the remembrance of 
 the gifts, the acquisitions of transcendent 
 genius in a former time, and they have now 
 become an inherited right, or rather involve 
 an inherited duty. The nobleman is the 
 free human being, uniting in himself the 
 gilts of nature and fortune, and preserving 
 a certain chain of connection through the 
 ever changing generations of men. Nobil- 
 ity is a kind of public office to which a man 
 is born. The nobleman should act out his 
 own nature, but is bound at the same time 
 by the conditions of history." 
 
 " May the wine freeze in my body, if I 
 understand a word of what he is saying, 1 ' 
 said the long lieutenant to the Court Mar- 
 shal, who was trying hard to fight off the 
 sleep which, contrary to all the rules of the 
 treatment, was stealing over him. He sud- 
 denly woke up and said, — 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you are perfectly right; but 
 do keep quiet." 
 
 " You yourself," said the Marshal, " must 
 reverence an honest pride in the virtues and 
 bravery of our ancestors. The man who 
 walks through a gallery, from whose walls 
 the pictures of a long line of progenitors look 
 down upon and watch his steps, receives a 
 life-long impression ; through his whole life 
 he is followed by the watchful eye of his 
 ancestors." 
 
 "True, true ! " cried many voices. 
 
 "And what follows from that?" asked 
 Clodwig. " Let us return to our original 
 question." 
 
 " Just what I am doing. Why should 
 not these historical conditions be constantly 
 reversed ? " 
 
 " Quite right ; that is the proper way to 
 state the question," replied Clodwig. " Is 
 this an age which can concede any special 
 duties, and with them any special privileges, 
 to the nobility ? This is the day of equal 
 rights ; there are no more members of a 
 privileged class. There are but two classes 
 of men, men of renown and men without 
 renown. The nobility which claims to rest 
 upon hereditary honor is effete ; it is incon- 
 testable' a dying institution. Of what use 
 are coats of arms ? Of none but to be em- 
 broidered on fire-screens, sofa cushions, and 
 travelling-bags. The equal, universal duty 
 of bearing arms furnishes the reasonable 
 claim to nobility. Science, art, business, 
 are the factors of our time, which the whole 
 people without distinction is equally bound 
 to take part in. We stand in opposition to 
 history. The nobleman was of importance 
 so long as landed property was the founda-' 
 tion of the nation's power. That time is 
 passed, since those high chimneys have 
 reared themselves into the air; since the 
 
 power of movable property, ideal posses- 
 sions — for all state securities are but ideal 
 possessions — has surpassed that of landed 
 estates, those days have been no more. 
 One advantage of this personal property is, 
 that it cannot be clutched by the dead hand ; 
 the hand of inheritance is a dead hand. I 
 am not opposed to having the nobleman of 
 the present day give his name to business 
 transactions ; there are better things than 
 titles and orders by which not only money, 
 but influence, can be gained. 1 thank the 
 noble Jacob Grimm for exposing, as he 
 does in his essay on Schiller, the folly of 
 supposing that Goethe and Schiller can be 
 ennobled. The nobility of to-day means 
 nothing but a name, a desolation ; we go so 
 far as to bestow it even upon the Jews." 
 
 "But you, certainly," interrupted the 
 Banker, "would not deny the equal rights 
 of the different religions, the moment this 
 equality of rights knocks at the emblazoned 
 door of nobility ? " 
 
 "Equal rights!" exclaimed Clodwig. 
 " Quite right, my friend descended from an 
 ancient race. But is it not an absurd per- 
 version to use equal rights for the abolish- 
 ment of equal rights ? If anybody can be- 
 come a noble, without the necessity of hav- 
 ing been born so, of course the Jews can ; 
 but they ought not to desire it, they ought 
 to see the disloyalty of it. So far as I see, 
 the Jews — I am speaking now with no ref- 
 erence to their religion — are a living lesson 
 to us not to judge of men by what they be- 
 lieve, but by their progress in virtue and 
 culture. The Jews are, according to our 
 way of regarding them, a race made up of 
 nobles — for who has a longer and purer 
 pedigree ? — or they are a people in a cer- 
 tain degree proud of being descended from 
 slaves. I am indebted to an old rabbi, 
 whom I once met a£ the Baths, for a noble 
 thought." 
 
 " What was it ? " asked the Banker. 
 
 " He said to me — we were in Ostend at 
 the time, walking on the sea-shore and talk- 
 ing of the negro, discussing his capability 
 for freedom and culture, and this rabbi 
 made a very beautiful remark " 
 
 Clodwig paused for a time as if trying to 
 recall something, then, laying the finger of 
 his left hand upon the bridge of his nose, he 
 said, — 
 
 "The rabbi declared that the looking 
 back to a past time of slavery was a great 
 spur to ambition, and that many things 
 which at first sight appear strange in the 
 Jews, may be accounted for by the impor- 
 tant fact of their tracing their history back 
 to a period of slavery. They have had im- 
 planted in them, by their bondage in Egypt, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 371 
 
 a pride and a humility, a steady resistance 
 to oppression, a quick perception of injus- 
 tice and of every injury inflicted on others, 
 and hence a sympathy, which is unparalleled 
 in history. 1 ' 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " A Jew with a coat of arms," continued 
 Clodwig, "with helmet and shield and all 
 the gewgaws — the very sight of them 
 should be an offence to him, for at the time 
 when men wore helmets and shields, his 
 ancestors, the Jews, were servants of the 
 emperor, and almost outside the protection 
 of the laws. A Jew may become Christian 
 from conviction, because, apart from the 
 dogma, % he perceives the advance in civiliza- 
 tion and culture which the religion of Jews 
 has accomplished. Many change their faith 
 from want of deep principle, not having the 
 courage, or not feeling it to be their duty, 
 to inflict upon themselves and on their chil- 
 dren a life-long martyrdom. But a Jew 
 with a title is the most ridiculous anachro- 
 nism that can be imagined. To become a 
 citizen, to enter that class which- is ever 
 increasing in numbers and importance, is 
 the right and the duty of a Jew. But shall 
 there be a union of Jewish noble families, 
 who, like others, shall marry only among 
 themselves? 'The more we think of the 
 matter, the more absurd the contradictions 
 that arise. However, I did not mean to 
 speak of the Jews, and pray the company 
 to pardon me for having thus strayed from 
 our main point. 11 
 
 "Had we not better put an end to the 
 discussion altogether ? 11 suggested Pranken. 
 
 " I have done ; only one word more. A 
 piece of music always leaves a painful im- 
 pression if we have not heard the final ca- 
 dence, and, therefore, let me say, in a few 
 words, that I consider the raising of a citi- 
 zen to the ranks of the nobility a histori- 
 cal absurdity, to use no harsher term. The 
 man who leaves the ranks of the citizens is 
 a deserter, an apostate, I will not say a trai- 
 tor and a fool also, for forsaking the con- 
 quering banner of the people. I under- 
 stand the temptation ; they want to secure 
 their possessions to their family^ to estab- 
 lish the right of entail ; the sons want to be 
 knights ; but it is a stinted race after all, a 
 mongrel stock, from which no good tree can 
 grow. 11 
 
 Clodwig had several objects in view in 
 speaking thus ; he wanted to make a direct 
 appeal to his companions in rank, and he 
 wanted, once for all, to divert from their pur- 
 ose Sonnenkamp and the Banker, who he 
 new had also been induced to aspire to a 
 title. 
 
 Perceiving a peculiar expression in the 
 
 countenance of his old* friend, he turned to 
 him, and said : — 
 
 " I see you have something on your mind 
 you would like to say. 11 
 
 " Nothing of any consequence, 11 replied 
 the Banker, with a shrug of his shoulders, 
 offering his gold snuff-box to Clodwig and 
 Sonnenkamp. " Our host is a perfect ex- 
 ample of what is called in America ' a self- 
 made man, 1 a term of great distinction. 
 There is no term in our language which ex- 
 actly expresses it. To have inherited noth- 
 ing, but to have won everything by his own 
 effort, is the greatest pride of an American. 
 ' Self made man 1 is, so to speak, the motto 
 upon his shield. Their president- elect, 
 Abraham Lincoln, is the best example of 
 this class, who, from being a rail-splitter 
 and a boatman, has attained the highest 
 honor. Are you personally acquainted with 
 Lincoln ? 11 
 
 " I have not the honor, 11 replied Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 Roland here approached the gentlemen, 
 and requested them to join the rest of 
 the company, as the plan was to have the 
 band play, while all walked together to the 
 place where they had left the carriages. All 
 arose from table. The nobles from the 
 various German principalities stared at one 
 another in amazement, and if any magical 
 change could have come over them, would 
 certainly have been turned into stone, as 
 the bridal procession had been. The long 
 lieutenant and the sleepy Court-marshal 
 would have made most grotesque figures. 
 How was it that a nobleman, a Count von 
 Wolfsgarten, could- use such language ? The 
 man must be drunk ! 
 
 They joined the ladies. Clodwig and 
 Eric lingered a little behind. Eric had not 
 spoken a word during the discussion, and 
 Clodwig expressed his vexation at having 
 inconsiderately opened his whole mind to 
 persons, who did not want to listen to seri- 
 ous words. 
 
 "I am grateful to you for it, 11 replied 
 Eric. 
 
 "I will try to think, 11 said Clodwig in 
 conclusion, " that I have been talking only 
 to you. 11 
 
 The two went together into the woods, 
 where the ladies had now risen from their 
 carpeted resting-place, and, seating them- 
 selves on the ground, watched the young 
 people dancing on the meadow below. 
 
 Sonnenkamp stood leaning against a tall 
 pine-tree, as if turned into stone, and al- 
 most wishing 1*hat the whole company might 
 be actually petrified like the marriage pro- 
 cession. A butterfly, which flew over 
 Clodwisfs head, and fluttered back and forth 
 
 o 7 
 
372 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 in the valley before Sonnenkamp's eyes, 
 might have told him what Clodwig was say- 
 ing to Erie on the hill. 
 
 " You asked nie this morning my opinion 
 on this mutter; I think you know it now. I 
 have declared distinctly, that I shall decid- 
 edly oppose all conferring of titles upon new 
 men. I do not mind telling you, however, 
 my young friend, that Herr Sonnenkamp's 
 chances are very good, for my voice is not 
 decisive." 
 
 Eric was strangely tempted to go down 
 to where Sonnenkamp was standing and tell 
 him this. He had witnessed the man's dis- 
 appointment to-day, and would have been 
 glad to encourage him, feeling sympathy for 
 one who desired all things for his son's sake. 
 
 He restrained himself, however, being 
 resolved to keep himself aloof from the 
 whole matter. He told Clodwig how Ro- 
 land had wished, on the evening of the ball, 
 to confide to .him the secret of their being 
 about to receive a title, but that it was his 
 intention not to mention the subject to the 
 boy, although his father had opened the way 
 for him to do so. Roland had thus far been 
 keeping the matter quietly in his own mind, 
 and it seemed better now to ignore it alto- 
 gether, than than to have the son conceive 
 any disapprobation qf his father's proceed- 
 ings. Clodwig agreed perfectly with his 
 young friend, and repeatedly expressed his 
 present contentment at Eric's having re- 
 jected his proposal to live with him, for 
 there was a wider and richer field of useful- 
 ness open to him where he was. 
 
 Both were refreshed by their quiet inter- 
 course. 
 
 The long lieutenant now broke in upon 
 Sonnenkamp's solitary musings. The but- 
 terfly flew up again, and might have told 
 those on the hill what was passing in the 
 valley below. 
 
 " Herr von Sonnenkamp, 11 began the long 
 lieutenant, "have the negroes any musical 
 talent P 11 
 
 ' ' The negroes are very fond of a kind 
 of music of their own, which is nothing 
 but noise, 11 replied Sonnenkamp; "and 
 many wise men consider that conversation 
 which — 11 he paused for a word, but seemed 
 to find none sharp enough, and at the same 
 time sufficiently polite. At last he said — 
 " which perhaps might pass for such in the 
 little capital. 11 
 
 He joined the gay company, and, while 
 the band played, " they all walked to 
 the place where the carriages were wait- 
 ing. 
 
 It so happened, neither knew how, that 
 Manna and Eric walked together through 
 the woods. They went on, side by side, 
 
 in silence, though each had so much to say 
 to the other. 
 
 " I hear," Manna began at last, " that 
 Count Clodwig expressed himself warmly 
 against rank ; did he think that distinction 
 of birth was in any wav opposed to relig- 
 ion?' 1 
 
 " He said nothing of the kind." 
 
 Again they went on in silence. 
 
 " I wonder where our friend, Professor 
 Einsiedel, has been to-day, 11 began Manna 
 again ; "I am a pupil of his, too, now." 
 
 " It is a great privilege," answered Eric, 
 " to know such a liberal, devout mind." 
 
 They said no more, but both felt that 
 there was a sort of sympathy established 
 between them by their reverence for the 
 same man. Not only Was their faculty of 
 reverence now the same, but there was a 
 common object of their reverence. 
 
 " Eric ! Manna ! 11 suddenly cried a voice, 
 which was repeated by all the echoes of 
 the forest. They stood startled at hearing 
 their names thus coupled together, and sent 
 back again, and again, by the stone figures 
 of the bridal procession. 
 
 Roland came back to find them, and, giv- 
 ing his right hand to Manna and his left to 
 Eric, led them thus to the carriage, in 
 which all took their seats. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 CHANGES WROUGHT IN MANY MINDS. 
 
 Sonnenkamp felt himself set aside by 
 the Court, or rather completely overlooked ; 
 but he could not demean himself by allow- 
 ing any feeling of wounded pride to appear, 
 therefore he omitted none of the customary 
 salutations of respect, even when the Sov- 
 ereign looked ungraciously at him. That 
 was the regular court service, to which he 
 was determined- to accustom himself. 
 
 The day was fixed for the departure of 
 the Prince and his retinue. Sonnenkamp 
 stood among the other distinguished vis- 
 itors, making the last salutations beside the 
 royal coach, and received his share of the 
 Sovereign^ gracious, parting glance. The 
 Cabinetsriithin said to him, as he was about 
 to take his place in the second carriage, — 
 
 "Your cause stands well, in spite of the 
 very learned and honorable Court Wolfs- 
 garten." 
 
 The departure of the court was, to 
 a large circle of the visitors, like the with- 
 drawal of the bride from the marriage 
 dance; the dancing goes on, there is an 
 exaggerated assumption of gaiety, but the 
 main point of interest is wanting. 
 
 Crowds of people came and went ; the 
 lively circle, of which Bella formed the 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 373 
 
 centre, lost every day one or another of its 
 members ; Sonnenkamp was often obliged, 
 against his will, to grace a departure with 
 his offering of flowers. Bella, and Clod- 
 wig too, now prepared to depart. Erie had 
 the satisfaction of seeing that a close at- 
 tachment had been formed between Clod- 
 wig and his friend and teacher, Professor 
 Einsiedel. 
 
 The last few days were a pleasant relief 
 to Eric and Roland, after the life of excite- 
 ment that had gone before. They took 
 even the loss of Clodwig and Bella lightly, 
 for they still had Professor Einsiedel. 
 Sonnenkamp and Frau Ceres, on the con- 
 trary, were sorely out of spirits ; they felt 
 like persons who have outlived their day. 
 
 Sonnenkamp compared himself to a bou- 
 quet that has not found a purchaser. 
 What is it at evening ? It is put in water 
 through the night ; the withered flowers 
 are pulled off the next morning, and it is 
 again 'exposed for sale. Will the success 
 be any better this time ? It must be tried. 
 
 The men and women, who, as long as 
 Bella was present had been their constant 
 associates, now saluted them formally, and 
 joined themselves to new comers. They 
 often met Professor Crutius in company 
 with a number of Americans who were at 
 the Baths, and who almost always looked 
 curiously at Sonnenkamp. Crutius himself 
 hardly acknowledged his friendly greetings. 
 
 The morning fixed for departure came 
 at last ; Sonnenkamp and his retinue set off 
 in three carriages. There were fewer 
 friends to bid them good-bye than they 
 had expected, yet still the carriages were 
 adorned with flowers ; there was a wreath 
 upon the roof of Sonnenkamp's coach, and 
 even the spokes of the wheels were twined 
 with garlands ; the postilion also wore a 
 wreath. All had the appearance of being 
 done by friends, but was in reality the work 
 of Lootz. 
 
 The party breakfasted in the open air, 
 and entered the carriages quietly from the 
 street, without returning to the house. 
 
 Professor Einsiedel was among those 
 who came to take leave, and, drawing 
 Manna a little apart, he said to her in a 
 low voice, — 
 
 " I told you in my last lecture — I beg 
 your pardon, my dear child ; I forgot I was 
 speaking only to you. I have already told 
 you of my desire to enter a convent, but 
 a free convent, now that I have grown 
 weary of life in the world, am solitary, and 
 am inclined to finish in retirement whatever 
 I may still be able to accomplish. But 
 whether yoa, my dear child, before you 
 
 have done with life, should withdraw your- 
 self from it, is a question you ought very 
 seriously to consider ; there can be no more 
 terrible fate than to feel your soul filled 
 with all manner of unrest when you have 
 taken the vow to consecrate yourself to the 
 noblest thoughts. Consider it seriously, 
 dear child ; I speak only from my interest 
 in your welfare, my heartfelt interest," 
 said the little man, in a voice broken with 
 emotion. 
 
 " I know it, and I believe you," answered 
 Manna. The tears stood . in her eyes, and 
 two big drops fell upon the flowers she held 
 in her hand. 
 
 Roland came up to them and took off his 
 hat to the Professor, who, laying his hand 
 on the boy's head, said, — 
 
 " Keep on well, and remember that you 
 too have a friend in me." 
 
 Roland was too much moved to speak ; 
 he could only kiss the old man's delicate 
 childlike hand. The people at a distance 
 looked on in amazement. The postilion 
 blew his horn till he started the echoes in 
 mountain and valley. With no decisive 
 point gained, they left the place where they 
 had experienced so much that was painful 
 and pleasant. 
 
 The carriage rolled on for a long time 
 without a word being spoken ; at last Ro- 
 land said softly to Eric : — 
 
 " Now I have a grandfather too." 
 
 Eric remained silent. Roland's atten- 
 tion was attracted by the flowers that 
 strewed the road ; not only withered flow- 
 ers, but fresh bunches also that had been 
 thrown after the departing guests, and now 
 lay in the street to be crushed under the 
 carriage wheels. He was reminded of 
 Manna's complaint at the waste of flowers 
 here, and thought how just it was. 
 
 Manna sat buried in thought. She had 
 come to the Baths only for the sake of being 
 with her family, yet in no one of the party 
 had such a vital change been effected. 
 But she did not own it yet even to herself. 
 She silently folded her hands and prayed. 
 
 They reached the station. 
 
 " Hear the whistle of the engine ! " said 
 Roland. " I feel that we are already at 
 home, now I hear that whistle, don't you? 
 We seem to have been in a different world 
 where that sound never reaches. I hope 
 we shall find all right at home." 
 
 Eric rejoiced in Roland's animation, and 
 told him they must keep up good courage 
 if they did find some things changed. They 
 would not let anything spoil the pleasure 
 of their getting home again. 
 
374 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE AFTER-EFFECTS. 
 
 "You will see the effects by-and-by," 
 the Doctor had ^aid to Sonnen kamp and 
 his wife at their departure. " You will see 
 the effect by-and-by," had been the point of 
 the Cabinetsrath's parting words. 
 
 The Sonnenkamps returned to the Rhine, 
 full of fresh expectations. 
 
 They arrived at the villa and found 
 everything in excellent condition. The 
 great corridor, connecting the green-houses 
 with the stables, a graceful structure of 
 cast iron which Sonnenkamp had planned 
 before his 4 e P arture > w as completed, and 
 its iron pillars already so hung with climb- 
 ing plants, that no trace of its being a re- 
 cent addition appeared. Sonnenkamp ex- 
 pressed the satisfaction he felt. 
 
 Every one felt himself animated with fresh 
 cheerfulness. The pleasant home feeling 
 was enhanced by the recent excitements of 
 the journey. 
 
 Sonnenkamp asked' if many strangers had 
 visited the bouse and garden during his ab- 
 sence, for he allowed the servants every 
 year the privilege of exhibiting to visitors, 
 while he was at the Baths, the lower story 
 of the villa, the hot-houses, fruit-garden, 
 and stables. 
 
 The butler replied that there had never 
 been so many visitors as this year, and that 
 he had pointed out to every one the place 
 where the Prince and Princess had sat. 
 
 Sonnenkamp ordered the man to bring 
 him the visitor's book, which was kept in 
 the billiard-room, a great hall adjoining the 
 hot-houses. Strict orders were given that 
 only names should be inscribed in the book. 
 In an excited tone he asked, after reading 
 a long list of names : — 
 
 " Who wrote that? " 
 
 At first no one confessed to any knowl- 
 edge of the names, but finally the second 
 gardener, the ' squirrel,' said that two gentle- 
 men had come together, one of whom 
 wanted once to be Roland's tutor; and the 
 other was a tall, stately man who spoke 
 Westphalian German. The tall man* with 
 the light curling hair, did not. write any- 
 thing, but the other, whom he addressed as 
 Professor, wrote all these names. The 
 man remembered being struck by it at the 
 time. 
 
 Sonnenkamp at once concluded that the 
 man who had written the names could be 
 no other than Professor Crutius. The 
 names were those of the leaders of the 
 slave party in the Southern States. It was 
 out of the question that these men had been 
 
 there themselves ; but what meant this re- 
 minder of them ? 
 
 The matter disturbed Sonnenkamp for a 
 while, but he finally succeeded in dismiss- 
 ing it from his mind. 
 
 " Your old enemy," he said almost aloud 
 to himself, "has come back, and that is 
 nothing but your unhappy brooding imagi- 
 nation.'" 
 
 Eric himself had no greater pleasure in 
 embracing his mother again, than Roland 
 and Manna felt. 
 
 " You and Aunt Claudine," cried Roland, 
 " are dearer to me than all the trees in the 
 park, the house, and everything else. You 
 too have been staying here faithfully, wait- 
 ing for us to come home. How good it is 
 to have you here, that we may have some 
 one to receive us when we come back ! " 
 
 The boy's whole heart swelled with in- 
 ward happiness. 
 
 Manna said nothing, but her look showed 
 how deeply she felt the peaceful influence 
 of the two ladies. She found in this little 
 home some of the rest she had found in the 
 convent, and yet here no outward vows had 
 been taken ; these two women were com- 
 pletely free. By little and little, she told 
 the mother about Professor Einsiedel, and 
 rejoiced her by showing her appreciation' of 
 the deep consecration of spirit, to which this 
 student of science had attained. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was more thoughtful than 
 ever. This striving after a title seemed 
 to him a loss of independence, a loss that 
 he was voluntarily incurring. He returned 
 from the Baths with the impression, that 
 he should be always treated by the nobles 
 themselves as a stranger and an interloper, 
 and would always have to be on his guard 
 against misconstruction of his smallest ac- 
 tions. The words of the Banker rang in 
 his ears : Every one should hold fast to 
 the distinction of being a self-made man. 
 
 Was it not better that a man should be 
 the source of his own honor, than that he 
 should allow it to be conferred upon him by 
 another? 
 
 Here he was brought up before an insur- 
 mountable wall. He was vexed at having 
 to worry and brood so over the matter, yet 
 he could not dismiss it from his mind. He 
 had just come to the resolution of begging 
 the Cabinetsrath to give it all up, when he 
 received a letter from him, saying that the 
 matter might be considered as in a fair way 
 of being satisfactorily concluded." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked about him when he 
 had read the words. Now he had it in his 
 grasp, and he would throw it from him. 
 There would be more greatness, more sat- 
 isfaction, in that than accepting it. But 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OK THE RHINE. 
 
 375 
 
 then what would become of Frau Ceres, 
 Manna, and Roland ? How could he draw 
 back ? For a moment the thought passed 
 through his mind that he would sell all his 
 property here and remove to Switzerland, 
 France, or Italy. But he imagined the 
 longing he would" feel to be back here a°jain ; 
 he felt that the social position and consider- 
 ation to which he had grown accustomed 
 here, had become a necessity to him. He 
 walked among the trees which he had plant- 
 ed, which he had trained and cared for, and 
 felt that they had grown to be a part of 
 himself; he looked towards the Rhine, and 
 was conscious of that magic power of at- 
 traction which takes possession of every one 
 who has once made his home beside it. 
 
 Forward ! he cried to himself. The ball 
 has been set rolling and must reach its 
 goal ! 
 
 He read the letter again, and perceived 
 that the Jewish banker had applied for a 
 title at the same time with himself, but, 
 strange to say, had withdrawn his name. 
 The letter also said that an expression of 
 opinion from Herr Weidmann was expect- 
 ed, and as it was not sure how he would 
 view the case, it would be desirable for 
 Herr Sonnenkamp to cultivate a closer ac- 
 quaintance with him. 
 
 Another point in the letter gave Sonnen- 
 kamp cause for wonder; the Cabinetsrath, 
 with many charges of secresy, wrote that 
 the opinion of Count Wolfsgarten had been 
 most plainly spoken, but that a remark of 
 his had decided the case in Herr Sonnen- 
 kam p's favor. 
 
 Here were too many riddles. Sonnen- 
 kamp resolved to do nothing for the pres- 
 ent. He. had been kept waiting so long 
 that others might as well take their turn 
 at it. 
 
 The Doctor came and reviewed the fam- 
 ily. He thought that all had been benefit- 
 ed by the Baths, but that Herr Sonnenkamp 
 was still feeling too much the exciting ef- 
 fects of the life there. 
 
 The Doctor had felt the pulse of each one, 
 and reviewed them all, but that did not tell 
 him the changes that had taken place in 
 their souls. 
 
 Frau Ceres was as tired and bored as ever, 
 and thought it terrible to come back to hav- 
 ing nothing to hear of but the beauties of 
 nature. 
 
 Manna could hardly believe that she had 
 been through so much noise and excitement. 
 
 The most opposite effects, however, had 
 been produced upon Roland and Eric. 
 
 Eric had to acknowledge that Professor 
 Einssedel's warnings had been just. In this 
 life of dissipation, of constant devotion to 
 
 others, his own self was getting lost. He 
 wished now to hedge in a certain enclosure 
 about himself that he could devote to study, 
 and in which he could build up his own life 
 anew. He set Roland solitary tasks, and 
 in reply to his questions often gave evasive 
 and unsatisfactory answers, telling him that 
 he wanted to leave him to work out as many 
 questions as he could by himself. 
 
 Roland for the first time felt deserted by 
 Eric, and at a time, too, when be needed 
 him more than ever. The idle life at the 
 Baths, the excitement, the gaieties, the con- 
 stant intercourse with men and women who 
 openly expressed their admiration for him, 
 all this left in his heart, as soon as the first 
 feeling of delight in getting home had passed 
 away, a void, a restless craving, which made 
 the quiet of the house, the regular routine 
 of study, an intolerable burden to him. He 
 wanted to be away among people again, 
 among his comrades. 
 
 The Cadet told him that he had been 
 made an ensign, and should soon make him 
 a visit, with some of his comrades. 
 
 Roland kept impatiently looking out for 
 some diversion, some excitement. A re- 
 mark of the long lieutenant, that he ought 
 no longer to be under the rule of a tutor, 
 rose to his mind, and made him fret under 
 his want of freedom. 
 
 In this frame of mind he sought his father, 
 and asked if the title of nobility had not 
 been received yet. Sonnenkamp comfort- 
 ed him as well as he could from day to day, 
 but, happening to tell hi m once that Eric 
 knew of what was in anticipation, Roland 
 was filled with anger. Why had Eric never 
 said a word to him about it ? 
 
 Eric's mother became conscious of the 
 change in Roland long before Erie himself 
 did, but he perceived it at last, and laid 
 aside his own work. But his efforts to re- 
 gain his old influence over his pupil seemed 
 for a time quite fruitless. An unexpected 
 event was to come to his assistance. 
 
 The Major came one day with a request, 
 that Sonnenkamp would allow the Free 
 Masons to have an entertainment in the 
 newly finished armory of the castle, as Herr 
 Weidmann was desirous of having the fete 
 come off there. Sonnenkamp's first impulse 
 was to consent, feeling some surprise at the 
 extraordinary coincidence that should lead 
 Weidmann to enter into communication 
 with him just at this time. Unwilling to 
 appear too eager to oblige, however, he 
 asked why Herr Weidmann had not made 
 the request himself. 
 
 This seemed to embarrass the Major some- 
 what, for he could not explain that the sug- 
 gestion had originated with himself, and 
 
376 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 that Weidmann bad sharply refused to have 
 any dealings with Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Sonnenkamp asked if he might be in- 
 formed of the names of the persons in the 
 neighborhood who belonged to the body, 
 and found, upon looking over the list the 
 Major handed him, that there were not 
 enough names of consideration among them ; 
 even Herr von Endlieh having withdrawn 
 his, since his elevation to the ranks of the 
 nobility. Sonnenkamp therefore deelined, 
 but requested the Major to bring about, in 
 some way, a nearer acquaintance between 
 himself and Weidmann. 
 
 " I know an excellent •way," said the 
 Major. " Herr Weidmann is very desirous 
 of receiving a visit from Roland and Eric. 
 Send them to him." 
 
 This, too, Sonnenkamp declined, thinking 
 it not his place to make advances towards 
 a man who kept aloof as Weidmann did. 
 The following day, as he was riding, he al- 
 most dropped the bridle from his hand, on 
 meeting a carriage in which sat Weidmann, 
 and, beside him, a man who ought to be on 
 the other side of the ocean. 
 
 The man was remarkably tall, and had a 
 strikingly fresh and youthful appearance. 
 As Sonnenkamp rode by, Weidmann bowed. 
 His companion seemed surprised, but raised 
 his hat also, and in so doing showed a head 
 which could not be mistaken. The thick, 
 wavy hair, the high forehead, the kindly 
 expression, in the glance of the blue eyes, 
 were all unmistakable. Sonnenkamp could 
 not help looking back, to make sure that he 
 had not been deceived. The stranger in the 
 wagon also had risen and was looking back, 
 and Sonnenkamp's eye detected something 
 like a nod, such as a man might make who 
 found his suspicions confirmed. 
 
 Sonnenkamp reined in his horse, feeling 
 weak and paralyzed, as if he could no longer 
 keep his seat in the saddle. Yes, 'tis he ! 
 'Tis his deadly enemy, his most violent an- 
 tagonist ! How happens he here now ? He 
 listened until he no longer heard the rat- 
 tling of the wheels, and then turned and 
 walked his horse towards home. But 
 shortly after, gathering up the reins, and 
 whipping and spuring his black steed, he 
 rode toward the Major's. 
 
 He did not find him at home. Fraulein 
 Milch, whom he always disliked, was there, 
 and told him that the Major was at the castle. 
 
 He rode to the castle, and in a very nat- 
 ural way spoke of a visitor at Weidmann's. 
 The Maior stated that Weidmann's nephew, 
 Doctor Fritz had been there now for a short 
 time, having come to take away his child, 
 who had been at Mattenheim under Knopf's 
 instruction. 
 
 " Was this visitor at the villa while I was 
 away ? " asked Sonnenkamp. 
 
 '* Yes, indeed, he and Professor Crutius. 
 Both of 'em were highly delighted with the 
 beauty of your house, and your skill in gar- 
 dening. The seeds I bought of the head- 
 gardener are for Dr. Fritz, who '11 take them 
 to America. Send Eric and Roland to 
 Mattenheim ; 'twill be delightful to both of 
 'em to know the excellent Doctor Fritz, but 
 you must do it speedily, for I hear he's go- 
 ing away very soon." 
 
 Eric and Roland, fortunately, came just 
 at this moment to the castle, and the Major 
 took great satisfaction in spurring them up 
 to make, at last the visit to Weidmann. 
 Roland was highly delighted that there was 
 some diversion in prospect, that he was to 
 make a journey and break in upon the hum- 
 drum life ; and Eric hoped that Roland 
 would receive a new impulse from observing 
 a life of active usefulness. 
 
 This time, Sonnenkamp laid his plans 
 more prudently. With Clodwig, Eric had 
 brought nothing to pass, although he had 
 had a direct commission ; but now he gave 
 Eric instructions which appeared very nat- 
 ural under the circumstances, but which 
 would enable him to gain a knowledge of 
 everything which it was important for him- 
 self to know. Eric was to send a message 
 after several days, and then Sonnenkamp 
 would come for him at Mattenheim. In the 
 mean time he wanted to make a carriage- 
 journey to another part of the country. 
 
 In the morning, when Eric and Roland 
 were setting out for Mattenheim, Manna 
 concluded to make her long delayed call 
 upon the Priest. Fräulein Perini had said 
 in direct terms, that the Priest had ex- 
 pressed his surprise at her not having been 
 to see him since her return home. Fräu- 
 lein Perini wanted Manna to hear from her- 
 self, that she had been at the Priest's ; but 
 of course, she did not inform her that she 
 had given to the Priest a very circumstan- 
 tial account of their residence at Carlsbad. 
 
 Manna had no sooner entered the Priest's 
 house, than she^ wanted to turn back again 
 immediately, for she learned from the house- 
 keeper that the Dean from the capital was 
 on a visit to the Priest. But the latter 
 must have heard her when she arrived, for 
 he came out and led her by the hand into 
 the study. He introduced her to the Dean 
 as a postulant. 
 
 Manna did not know what he meant ; and 
 the Dean, perceiving this, explained to her 
 that he knew of her pure purpose to take 
 the veil. 
 
 Manna cast down her eyes timidly and 
 humbly, while she was obliged to listen to 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 377 
 
 her praises from both of the men. She could 
 not help herself, and yet she experienced a 
 deep internal conflict. 
 
 The Dean asked if there had been any 
 high dignitary of the Church at the springs, 
 and Manna said that there had not. 
 
 When the Priest now asked if she had be- 
 come acquainted with any men of distin- 
 guished attainments, Manna considered it 
 her duty to mention particularly Professor 
 Einsiedel. 
 
 " Then you have made the acquaintance 
 of that incarnate, shrivelled up darkness 
 — that miserable mannikin, who is fond of 
 being styled an ancient Greek ? " 
 
 Both of the men laughed, and Manna was 
 amazed to see how the Professor, so highly 
 venerated by her, was made a complete 
 laughing stock. She did not feel adequate 
 to defend him here, and kept silence. " We 
 will accompany you home, 11 said the Priest 
 at last. " You, my honored fellow la- 
 borer, must see for once the beautiful 
 villa. 11 
 
 Escorted by the two ecclesiastics Manna 
 went home, appearing to herself like a cap- 
 tured criminal, and yet the men were very 
 friendly and confiding. 
 
 They met Sonnenkamp in the courtyard. 
 He was very complaisant and respectful ; 
 and he took especial satisfaction in showing 
 to the highly venerated men the park, the 
 orchard, the hot-houses, and, finally, the 
 villa. 
 
 The Dean exhibited a fine appreciation 
 of everything, and when Sonnenkamp dwelt 
 upon the fact, with a certain degree of pride, 
 that every fire-place had its own separate 
 flue, he all at once noticed that the Dean 
 exchanged a passing glance with the Priest, 
 at the same time wearing a satisfied smile. 
 
 Ho, ho ! thought Sonnenkamp. You think 
 that, do you ? These men are taking a view 
 of the villa, in order already to make their 
 dispositions how to turn this house into a 
 convent, when Manna has carried out her 
 plan ? Ho, ho ! I would rather burn up the 
 house and everything in it ! 
 
 The two ecclesiastics could not under- 
 stand why the expression of Sonnenkamp^ 
 countenance was so suddenly changed and 
 so exultant ; he was delighted to penetrate 
 the deception of other people. He bore 
 the men company as far as the gate, and 
 begged them to visit his modest house very 
 frequently. 
 
378 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK XI. CHAPTER I. 
 
 A FAIRY STORY AT THE AGRICULTURAL 
 FAIR. 
 
 Eric and Holand walked inland over the 
 hills, keeping step together^ 
 
 There is no better time for a pedestrian 
 journey, than some bright day of the early 
 autumn ; the eows are pasturing in the 
 meadows, the vegetable produets are being 
 harvested in the fields, the foliage assumes 
 variegated colors on the trees, and all day 
 there is a dewy, morning, or rather, evening 
 freshness in the air, for the evening of 
 summer is now coming on. All nature ap- 
 pears sated, and like one who has accom- 
 plished his work. 
 
 Eric and Roland wandered on, as if they 
 must so wander on forever, with no rest, no 
 goal, always keeping step. And yet they 
 had a goal, Eric especially. Roland had 
 never yet seen a life of active endeavor, 
 and now he was to be made acquainted 
 with one. 
 
 Eric related to him, as they were going 
 along, his own life-history, but in a wholly 
 different way from his narration to Clodwig, 
 and afterwards to Sonnenkamp, dwelling 
 principally upon the failure of his military 
 career. This must have its influence upon 
 Roland. 
 
 Eric had the feeling that this was the last 
 journey he should make with Roland ; and 
 the latter confirmed this feeling when he 
 related that Pranken had already bespoken 
 a uniform for him; late in the autumn he 
 would enter the military school. 
 
 Roland also spoke particularly, for the 
 first time, of Knopf, the teaeher at Matten- 
 heim. He frankly said that before he en- 
 tered a different course of life, he should 
 like to become reconciled with him. And 
 Eric now learned how deeply Roland had 
 wounded his former tutor. He and a for- 
 mer valet, who had been the instigator, had 
 cut off the beard on one side of Knopfs 
 face, while he was asleep ; he sincerely re- 
 gretted this now, and wanted to acknowl- 
 edge it to Herr Knopf. 
 
 And so this journey had a variety of ends 
 in view. 
 
 They were all the time going farther 
 away from the Rhine, and the country had 
 a poorer look. They now met cows decked 
 with gay ribbons ; hogs and sheep, and also 
 choice products of the fields, were carried 
 along, arranged in excellent order. 
 
 " What's going on? 1 ' 
 
 "It's the District Agricultural Fair at 
 Mattenheim. " 
 
 They reached the village at a short dis- 
 
 tance from Weidinann's property ; it was 
 adorned with flags, and peasants stood in 
 their wagons decorated with garlands, and 
 imitated in sport their different occupations. 
 
 Here was one wagon with threshers, 
 another with reapers, and others with weav- 
 ers, vine-dressers, shinglers, and wood- 
 cutters ; every sort of heavy work had been 
 turned for once into play. The horses and 
 oxen that were harnessed to the wagons 
 wore garlands and ribbons, and everybody 
 was shouting, rejoicing, and welcoming the 
 fresh arrivals. 
 
 They entered the village. 
 
 Flags were streaming from the Rathhaus ; 
 they said that Weidmann was there deliv- 
 ering a discourse. 
 
 They went in. 
 
 In the great hall Weidmann was standing 
 behind a table, and giving to the people a 
 scientific and at the same time a perfectly 
 comprehensible and directly practical essay 
 on the best method of " making flesh ; " for 
 such was the term he continually used in 
 speaking of feeding. " Making flesh " was 
 his constantly recurring theme ; and he 
 pointed out the different kinds and quanti- 
 ties of food, how roots and oil-cakes must 
 be alternated and supplied so as to give the 
 most nourishment, laying a special empha- 
 sis upon the necessity of accurate calcula- 
 tion in order to receive the proper returns. 
 
 He had a thermometer in his stable, and 
 the heat there was never allowed to be 
 above 63 1-2° Fahrenheit ; he had also a tel- 
 egraphic clock which communicated from 
 the stable to his study, so that he could 
 know, to a minute, whether the servants 
 foddered the cattle at the proper time. 
 
 He represented to the people how much 
 better off they were with a small amount of 
 landed property, for they could have it all 
 under their own eye, while he had to be at 
 the mercy of hired laborers ; and one could 
 know very well when Monday came, for on 
 Sunday there was always bad foddering. 
 Each cow has its own name, and a register 
 is kept of the amount of milk from each, 
 and any one that does not come up to the 
 requisite standard to yield a profit is got 
 rid of. 
 
 He repeated to his hearers often, how, 
 within the circuit of a few miles, more than 
 a million was thrown away by cutting the 
 grass too late, and not getting it in until it 
 had become dead ripe. And he succeeded 
 in setting all this off in a humorous way. 
 
 If he had occasion to show that his 
 method was profitable pecuniarily, he would 
 strike his hand upon his pantaloons 1 pocket, 
 and say : — 
 
 " Then there's something goes in here." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 379 
 
 There was much merriment when he 
 illustrated with his hand the remark : — 
 
 "Profit — profit is the whole story. 
 Just look at this ! The human hand moves 
 its fingers inward towards us, not outwards 
 to give away." 
 
 He was strongly opposed to pasturing 
 in common; and everything went to show 
 that people were foolish and wasteful, since 
 they would not understand how to procure 
 good food for themselves by means of their 
 cattle. 
 
 Roland listened with astonishment, won- 
 dering at this man's sphere of influence, 
 who showed such zeal in teaching people 
 how to feed themselves well. 
 
 Eric also had something to think about ; 
 for when Weidmann declared that the par- 
 ticular breed was not of so much account, 
 that the food of animals was a far more 
 vital matter than what blood they were of, 
 Eric cast down his eyes. Perhaps he made 
 a particular application of the remark. 
 
 When the address was over, Eric and 
 Roland were warmly welcomed by Herr 
 Weidmann; and on Eric's expressing his 
 satisfaction at the address, Weidmann said : 
 "I was intended once for a parson, and 
 the son of a parson still sticks to me." 
 Eric replied, smiling : — 
 " There are so many who preach about 
 spirit, that it is well for you, for once, to 
 preach about flesh. 11 
 
 Weidmann answered very seriously: — 
 " But I do not at all deny the spirit; it is 
 even incomprehensible to me how people 
 can manage not to believe in a God. I find 
 traces of him everywhere. But we will 
 speak of this by and by. Let us go. 11 
 
 The audience went out into the street, 
 where the procession was now passing along. 
 First came the fire-companies of that and 
 the neighboring villages, fine fresh-looking 
 young fellows in drab linen clothes, with 
 gleaming, yellow helmets on their heads. 
 
 " This is a new order of things, 11 Eric 
 said to Weidmann. 
 
 Weidmann rejoined, nodding: — "Yes, 
 no age before ours has had the like, and 
 who knows what will come of it ! " 
 
 Now the wagons came along with their 
 \ merry occupants, and occasionally the fe- 
 male hemp-dressers would scatter chopped 
 straw upon the gazing crowd. New wine 
 was handed out from the wagon, and a joy- 
 ous hilarity was everywhere seen. Weid- 
 mann again welcomed his guests, saying 
 that he woulfl. take them home with him at 
 evening, and that Herr Knopf would be 
 particularly delighted. He introduced them 
 also to his nephew, Dr. Fritz, adding that 
 Herr Knopf held himself back for the dance. 
 
 They next proceeded to the fair-grounds, 
 where the prizes were being awarded, and 
 Weidmann took his guests to the exhibition 
 of agricultural implements. He pointed 
 out that there was no perfect shovel and 
 no perfect plough, and commended the plan 
 of distributing the improved implements by 
 lot among the people. 
 
 " It is difficult, 11 he declared, " to get the 
 peasant to adopt any new invention ; the 
 husbandman cannot be an innovator, he 
 must not be ; he is to be the representative 
 of the conservative element, and yet he 
 must keep pace with the progress of the 
 new age. This is difficult, and great pa- 
 tience is needed. 11 
 
 He spoke of a long cherished plan he had 
 entertained of sending out agricultural mis- 
 sionaries, or rather, of making missionaries 
 out of some of the peasants themselves ; for 
 the peasantry always had a prejudice against 
 a man who made use of learned words. 
 
 Roland went into the exhibition, and 
 round among the multitude, as if he were 
 suddenly transported into a wholly new 
 world. Here was a man, living only a few 
 hours 1 distance from Villa Eden, who was 
 laboring with such zeal and such devotion, 
 in order to supply good nourishment to his 
 fellow human beings. And what are we 
 trying to do? Something of this was appa- 
 rent when he said to Eric : — 
 
 "Herr Weidmann has a noble calling, 
 even if he does speak a great deal about 
 manure. 11 
 
 Among all those who were shouting and 
 rejoicing, there was not one so happy as 
 Eric was, when he heard his pupil say this. 
 This acknowledgment, — that none of the 
 material substances on which human activ- 
 ity was employed were impure, if one consid- 
 ered the real thought thereby unfolded, — 
 this was a result far beyond his expectation. 
 He congratulated himself on having come 
 here ; here must Roland find his true voca- 
 tion, he must devote himself to agriculture, 
 for in that there is a direct means of bene- 
 fiting the many. 
 
 " You must see my pigs, 11 urged Weid- 
 mann, " Yorkshire pigs, six weeks old, splen- 
 did creatures ! Have you too an antipathy 
 to pigs ? I can very easily imagine it. But, 
 my young friend, of the meat that goes for 
 food in our country, seventy per cent, is 
 pork, twenty per cent, beef and veal, and 
 only ten per cent, mutton, lamb, fowl, 
 game, etc., is eaten. 11 
 
 The Yorkshire pigs were, in fact, very 
 pretty-looking animals. 
 
 Roland did not go to see them, but re- 
 mained a long time looking at the so-called 
 Hercules' Clubs, or the Serpent's Gourds, 
 
380 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 as they are also termed, a huge growth, 
 half as long as a man, and double the thick- 
 ness of his arm. 
 
 The prizes were* awarded, the rejoicing 
 of the people became tumultuous, and it 
 was a continual delight to Eric to point out 
 to his pupil, that this was a festival got up 
 by the people themselves, and was estab- 
 lished neither by Church nor State. Weid- 
 mann, who heard something of this, added 
 smiling : — 
 
 "Yes, this is our new self-government in 
 all matters, high and low. We have no 
 overseers, neither consecrated nor unconse- 
 crated." 
 
 The sun shone down brightly upon the 
 lively scene of* joyous festivity, and Roland, 
 standing upon the now empty platform, said 
 to Eric : — 
 
 " If my father were only here ! Suppose 
 now that to each one of the multitude here, 
 all of them, — how many do you think there 
 are ? " 
 
 " At least a thousand. 1 ' 
 
 "A thousand persons," he repeated. 
 " Then, if one should give this very minute 
 a thousand gulden to each one of them ? " 
 
 "This would be very well for a day, a 
 year, or even several years, but not for life. 
 You have been told that the way to help 
 people is, to put good tools into their 
 hands, and good tools into their souls, so 
 that they may get their own living — that's 
 the thing." 
 
 " Yes, yes, it was only a dream," said 
 Roland, and his countenance fell. 
 
 Why had Eric not shared with him in the 
 joy of this dream ? 
 
 It was time for them to go to the dance ; 
 they heard the sound of music. They en- 
 tered the Raven Inn, where a green garland 
 was hanging outside, and inside, peasants 
 and peasant girls were dancing merrily. 
 On a little platform among the musicians 
 there was a man playing the flute, who 
 nodded to them as they came in ; it was 
 Knopf. Roland seized Eric's hand, trem- 
 bling, and pointing to a table covered with 
 a red cloth where several well-dressed peo- 
 ple were sitting, he cried : — 
 
 " There she is ! There she is !" 
 
 A child of slender form, and of a bloom- 
 ing, rosy countenance, with long, flowing 
 hair, was standing on the knee of a hand- 
 some, powerfully built man, with a massive 
 head, who was addressed as Doctor Fritz. 
 
 Knopf gave a signal to the trumpeter 
 near him, and the dance ceased. He came 
 down, and shook Eric and Roland by the 
 hand. Tears stood in his eyes under his 
 huge spectacles, and fell upon the glasses, so 
 
 that he had to doff his spectacles, and look 
 at the neAv-comers with blinking eyes. 
 
 " You come at a good time, at the best. 
 We are celebrating the District Fair." 
 
 " Forgive me," exclaimed Roland. 
 
 " I did that a long while ago. Dear — 
 you have grown very tall. Come with me." 
 
 lie conducted them to the large table, 
 and introduced Eric to Frau Weidmann. 
 And another person, who was sitting behind 
 the table, shook Eric and Roland by the 
 hand ; it was the Russian, who was now liv- 
 ing with Weidmann as a pupil: Weid- 
 mann's two sons, Dr. Fritz, from America, 
 and his child, were also introduced. Roland 
 and the maiden gazed at each other as if 
 they were in a dream. 
 
 " Father, this is the Forest-prince whom 
 I saw," said the maiden to the handsome, 
 strongly-built man. 
 
 Her voice made Roland look round ; so 
 would the lilies of the valley have rung out 
 their soft tones, if their little bells could 
 have emitted any sound. 
 
 The adventure in the wood was now gaily 
 narrated, and Knopf was especially de- 
 lighted. 
 
 "Miracles still take place! Miracles 
 still take place ! " he kept exclaiming, flour- 
 ishing at the same time his flute. " But 
 now, children, follow me; do not speak — 
 not a single word. Roland can dance, and 
 you can dance too, Lilian. I beg you 
 would be quiet ! " he cried aloud to the as- 
 sembly. " Our children are going to 
 dance — our children are going to dance by 
 themselves." 
 
 He stationed himself again on the plat- 
 form, and played a waltz on his flute ; the 
 children danced, and all eyes were fixed 
 upon them, as if it were a fairy spectacle. 
 
 Roland and Lilian had nut yet spoken a 
 word, and they had so much to say to each 
 other ; but they were dancing together. 
 Who knows how long Knopf would have 
 kept on playing, had not Dr. Fritz called 
 out : — 
 
 "That'll do for the present, Herr Can- 
 didate ! " Knopf flinched ; the word can- 
 didate, in the midst of this fairy tale, 
 seemed to annoy him, it sounded so horri- 
 bly prosaic. 
 
 Roland and Lilian took their seat with 
 the others at the table. Knopf exhorted 
 Lilian to give her partner something to 
 drink, but Frau Weidmann insisted upon 
 the children's waiting awhile before they 
 drank. They sat quietly, looTung at each 
 other without speaking. 
 
 Eric begged that his coming should make 
 no interruption in their plans, but Weid- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 381 
 
 mann declared that he wanted to leave, at 
 any rate ; he had already been obliged to 
 answer hundreds of questions. Frau Weid- 
 mann regretted that the best rooms in the 
 house were already occupied, and that Eric 
 and Roland would have to put up with such 
 poor accommodations. 
 
 "Don't be uneasy," interposed "Weid- 
 mann; "all women, even the best, make 
 apologies for their housekeeping, however 
 good it may be." 
 
 The whole company adjourned from the 
 table to the courtyard, Dr. Fritz leading 
 his little daughter by the hand ; and now it 
 was learned that he and his child were go- 
 ing to start the next day for America. 
 
 Knopf took Roland's arm, and Eric walked 
 between Weidmann and his wife ; the Rus- 
 sian had gone out into the fields with a son 
 of Weidmann, while the second accompan- 
 ied Dr. Fritz. Frau Weidmann could not 
 forbear letting Eric know why her husband 
 was so taciturn ; that he devoted himself 
 too much to other people, and then he came 
 home all lagged out. Who knows whether 
 he would not have taken his violin and 
 played for the people, if Eric had not come ? 
 
 Weidmann declared that he had done 
 this, and was not at all ashamed of it. 
 
 Eric replied that it was exceedingly pain- 
 ful to see how often it was that one was al- 
 most ashamed of manifesting any good feel- 
 ing in the world, because so many merely 
 pretended to possess it, and only used it as 
 a means of acquiring popularity. 
 
 Weidmann made mention of Eric's office 
 in the House of Correction, adding that the 
 man who played the key-bugle had been a 
 convict formerly, and had conducted him- 
 self well for years. 
 
 Frau Weidmann, who was of the opinion 
 that talking was too much of an exertion 
 for her husband at present, now resumed 
 the thread of conversation, and asked Eric 
 whether it was a settled matter that Pran- 
 ken was to marry the rich Sonnenkamp's 
 daughter. 
 
 Eric could not keep saying yes, and Frau 
 Weidmann was exceedingly vexed. 
 
 " It always puts me out," she said, 
 " when a healthy and wealthy girl of the 
 middle class marries a nobleman ; our good, 
 solid, industrial acquisitions are alienated. 
 I do not wish to say that the noble is not 
 our friend ; but he does not belong to us, 
 he considers himself something different 
 from us, and the fruit of our toil goes to 
 him. A girl of the middle class, who buys 
 a title by marriage, betrays her ancestors, 
 and betrays us in her posterity.'' 
 
 Frau Weidmann spoke so excitedly and 
 angrily, that her husband tried in vain to 
 
 pacify her ; he took, however, the wrong 
 means, informing her that Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp himself wanted to receive a title. 
 
 Eric was startled to hear this matter, 
 which had been regarded as a great secret, 
 here spoken of so openly. 
 
 Frau Weidmann had a special dislike to- 
 wards Pranken ; she disliked him because 
 he induced so many people to place good 
 breeding, as it was termed, above plain up- 
 rightness. You could hear hundreds of 
 persons, women as well as men, speak well 
 of him in spite of his vicious life, because 
 he was so well bred, as they called'it. 
 
 "Suppose Manna had come here?" 
 thought Eric to himself. 
 
 Weidmann turned to Eric with the ex- 
 planation that his wife was pretty severe 
 against Pranken, as two years agD, about 
 the time that Eric had taken the position 
 at Sonnenkamp's,' Pranken had spent a few 
 days at Mattenheim, and in that short time 
 had introduced a disorderly state of things 
 at the farm, which was not without its effects 
 even at the present time. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A PEBBLE ANSWERS FOR A JEWEL. 
 
 Knopf, meanwhile, talked much with 
 Roland, and congratulated him in having a 
 man like Eric for a teacher. Roland was as 
 inattentive as ever, asking at last only this 
 question, — 
 
 " What is the maiden's name ? " 
 
 " Lilian. And this is the miraculous part 
 of it ! You gave her in the wood a May- 
 flower, and the Mayflower is also called 
 Lily of the Vallev;' 
 
 " What's her lather? " 
 
 "A famous lawyer, a leading opponent 
 of slavery." 
 
 Knopf would rather have given himself a 
 slap on the mouth, than to have uttered 
 what he did. But it couldn't be unsaid. 
 He turned suddenly and looked sharply at 
 Roland, and, to his satisfaction, he became 
 convinced that no effect had been produced 
 upon the youth. 
 
 During the whole distance they seemed 
 to be hearing the music of the waltz, and 
 now, as they approached the farm, that 
 ceased, for there struck upon their ears the 
 rushing and roaring of a mill-stream and 
 the clattering of a mill. The stream flowed 
 underneath a large part of the house, and 
 turned the mill constructed there. * 
 
 " You will not sleep well to-night," said 
 Knopf to Roland. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because you must first get used to the 
 noise of the mill ; if one is accustomed to 
 
382 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 it, he sloops the more soundly for it. It 
 was so with my little pupil.' 1 
 
 Not far from the farm buildings, the dif- 
 ferent individuals, meeting again, were stand- 
 ing near the palings of an inclosure, where 
 Roland was delighted with the handsome 
 colts that Avcre frisking about within, and 
 which all came up to the fence when they 
 sniffed Herr Weidmanns proximity. 
 
 Ho informed thorn that this was his " lit- 
 tle children's school ; " he had established a 
 " eoltgarten " for colts, to which all the 
 breeders of horses in the district sent the 
 foals. There was good pasture-land, where 
 they could perform their gymnastic exer- 
 cises, be well-sheltered and safely cared for. 
 This helped the whole surrounding country 
 in the rearing of horses. 
 
 Roland was highly pleased with this in- 
 formation, and Eric took fresh satisfaction 
 in the thought of having brought him here. 
 A man like Weidmann would exert an in- 
 fluence over Roland such as no other per- 
 son could. 
 
 "Have you studied chemistry ?" Weid- 
 mann asked, turning to Roland. 
 He said no. 
 
 Weidmann looked down, then up, and 
 asked. — 
 
 "Have you determined yet what you 
 mean to do ? " 
 
 For the first time, Roland hesitated to 
 give a direct answer. 
 
 Weidmann urged the matter no further. 
 Eric could not conceive what made Roland 
 so timid ; but he saw clearly what a great 
 influence this man had acquired over his 
 pupil. Perhaps also what Roland had heard 
 caused him to waver, and he was reluctant 
 to speak, before a man of such active useful- 
 ness, of a vocation in which outward show 
 and glory were the ends in view. 
 
 But there was another reason. The 
 child with golden hair let go her father's 
 hand, went up to Knopf and whispered to 
 him, that now he must be convinced all was 
 true she had told him ; that he had never 
 believed she had met any one in the wood, 
 but now the witness was before his eyes. 
 
 Roland whispered to Knopf, that Eric had 
 never boon disposed to believe that such a 
 thing hud really* happened to him. 
 
 Knopf, who saw himself placed in the 
 midst of wonder-land, moved his hand re- 
 peatedly over his breast, while his eyes 
 gleamed behind his spectacles. Yes, in the 
 very midst of chemistry, scientific feeding, 
 locomotive whistles, and dividend calcula- 
 tions — in the midst of all this there was 
 still romance loft in the world. True, this 
 happens only to children born on Sunday, 
 and Lilian was a Sunday-child. 
 
 He only wished that he could do some- 
 thing towards deepening and making last- 
 ing this gleaming romance of their wonderful 
 meeting. 
 
 But thafs just it ! One can't do any- 
 thing in this sphere of the romantic, it 
 always comes of its own accord, unexpected 
 and surprising ; it won't be regulated and 
 reasonably built up. All one can do is, to 
 keep still and hold his breath, and make no 
 sound ; otherwise the charm is broken. 
 He had to do something to further it, and 
 he did the very best thing ; he went off and 
 left the children by themselves. 
 
 They looked at each other, but neither 
 spoke. A handsome red heifer, with a 
 bell on her neck and a garland over her 
 horns, was led into the farm-yard. The 
 maiden went up to her, and stroking her, 
 said, — 
 
 "Ah, good evening, Brindy ! Do you 
 feel proud because you've taken the prize? 
 Shall you tell your neighbors of it ? Will 
 you enjoy yourself now at home, or don't 
 you know anything about your honors ? " 
 
 The heifer was led to the barn, and the 
 child, turning to Roland, cried, — 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to know whether the 
 heifer has any notion of what has happened 
 to her ? " 
 
 As Roland was still silent, the child con- 
 tinued, very seriously, — 
 
 "Don't you want to be a husbandman, 
 and have my uncle teach you ? Then you 
 can have my room. It's beautiful there ! " 
 
 The maiden found words sooner than Ro- 
 land, who still did not open his lips. 
 
 She continued, — 
 
 ' ' Whv haven't you been to see us be- 
 fore ? " 
 
 "I did not know where you lived, nor 
 who vou were." 
 
 "Ah! That was why!" 
 
 And now they talked of their first meet- 
 ing, how Lilian was carried away by her 
 uncle, and how Roland wandered on to find 
 Eric. Then it was spring, and now it is 
 autumn. 
 
 "Just think! In your lilies there were 
 some pretty little flies, which went along 
 with us in the carriage, and didn't stir." 
 
 " Have you kept the flowers? " 
 
 "No. I don't like withered flowers. 
 Give me something — give me something, 
 that doesn't wither." 
 
 " I have nothing," replied Roland. " But 
 I will send you my photograph, taken as a 
 page — no/ That's not fit for you. Oh, 
 if I only had my rings now ! I should like 
 to give a ring, but Herr Eric has taken 
 them all off my fingers." 
 
 " I don't want any ring. Well, give me 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 383 
 
 that — give me the pebble that's now under 
 -your foot." 
 
 Roland stooped down, and giving her the 
 pebble, begged she would also give him 
 one. 
 
 She did so, saying, — 
 
 "Yes, this is dearer to me. I'd rather 
 have that than anything else. Now I shall 
 take a part of Germany with me over the 
 ocean. Oh, Herr Knopf is right ; it is all 
 one whether you have a pebble or a dia- 
 mond, if you only hold it dear; and it's very 
 stupid for people to wear pearls and think 
 that it's something very fine, because they 
 must be got away down deep in the sea. 
 Herr Knopf is right ; it doesn't make a 
 thing beautiful or good to cost a great deal. 11 
 
 Roland was silent ; his heart beat fast. 
 
 "You are the Roland then, of whom the 
 good Herr Knopf is always talking ? You 
 can't think how much he loves you." 
 
 " Probably he loves you as much ? " 
 
 " Yes, he loves me' too, and he has prom- 
 ised to come to America to see us." 
 
 " I am from America, too." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! Welcome, my dear country- 
 man ; come with me into the garden, and 
 help me get a nosegay to take away with 
 me to-morrow." 
 
 " But where are you going to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Very early we start for home." 
 
 The children were confronted, as it were, 
 by a riddle. These children of the New 
 World met each other to welcome the ar- 
 rival in the Old World, and now to bid 
 each other farewell. 
 
 " We see one another only to say a wel- 
 come and a good-bye," said Roland. 
 
 " Come into the garden with me," replied 
 Lilian. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 AX HOUR IX PARADISE. 
 
 The children walked about the garden 
 and gathered flowers, and they seemed to 
 be in fairy land. They went first into the 
 vegetable garden, where dwarf pear-trees 
 were set out at regular intervals, and Lilian, 
 thinking that she must explain everything 
 to the visitor, in a matronly manner, said : — 
 
 " Yes, yes, there's no rose-bush, no little 
 tree, which my aunt has not budded, and 
 she hates all vermin. Now just think what 
 aunt reckons as vermin ! But you musn't 
 laugh at her for it." 
 
 "What? Tell me." 
 
 "She considers the birds vermin, too. 
 Oh, you laugh exactly like my brother Her- 
 mann. Laugh once more ! Yes, he laughs 
 exactly so. But my brother has been in 
 
 business for three years. Come, we'll look 
 for some flowers now." 
 
 They went into the flower garden and 
 gathered many different kinds of flowers, 
 but Lilian threw a large bunch of them into 
 the brook, and pleased herself with thinking 
 how the flowers would float down to the 
 Rhine, and from the Rhine to the sea, and 
 who knows but they would go straight to 
 New York, even before she got there her- 
 self! 
 
 " I shall come to America, too, to see 
 you," Roland all at once exclaimed. 
 
 " Give me your hand that you will." 
 
 For the first time, the children took each 
 other by the hand. 
 
 A shot was heard behind them. Roland 
 trembled. 
 
 " Just be quiet. Are you really fright- 
 ened ? " Lilian said, soothingly.' "It's 
 aunt ; she's only frightening away the spar- x 
 rows ; she fires every time she comes into 
 the orchard. A pistol is always lying upon 
 the table yonder." 
 
 Roland now saw Frau Weidmann putting 
 the discharged pistol down on the table. 
 
 " We'll be perfectly quiet, so that she 
 won't hear us," he said to Lilian. 
 
 They sat down on the margin of the 
 brook, and Lilian whispered : — 
 
 " The mignonettes I'll keep, they smell so 
 sweet, even after they're wilted. 1 ' 
 
 "Yes," Roland rejoined, "give me a 
 mignonette too, and as often as we smell 
 them, we will think of each other. The 
 field-guard Claus, told me once — he's a 
 real bee-father — that the mignonette yields 
 the most honey." 
 
 O all his knowledge, nothing else now 
 occurred to him. 
 
 "You are very clever!" exclaimed the 
 child. " Now tell me, do you think, too, 
 that the bees smell the flowers as we do, 
 and that the flowers put on such pretty col- . 
 ors so that the bees and the insects may 
 come to them and be friendly with them? 
 Just think ! Herr Knopf says "so. Oh, what 
 a tiny little nose a bee must have ! And 
 I've often seen that the humble-bee isn't 
 very smart ; it flies up to a flower twice, 
 three times, and it might know that there 
 was no honey there. The humble-bee's stu- 
 pid, but the honey-bees, they are the prettiest 
 creatures in the world. Don't you love them 
 more than anything else ? " 
 
 " No, I love horses and hounds more." 
 
 " And only think," Lilian went on, "that 
 the bees never hurt me nor uncle, but 
 aunt has to take care. Have you ever 
 caught a swarm ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " If you're ever a great, rich gentleman, 
 
384 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 you must get some bees too. But the bees 
 do well only in a family where there's peace ; 
 Herr Knopf told me so. And when we 
 start to-morrow, my father's going to take 
 a bee-hive with him. Ah, if we can only 
 take it sale to the New World; 'twould be 
 frightful if all the good bees had to die on 
 the way. But 'twill be very nice when they 
 wake up in America, and fly away, and see 
 wholly different trees there." 
 
 " Is it really true that you're going away 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Yes, my father has said so, and when 
 he's said it, there's nothing can hinder ; you 
 may be just as sure of it as that the sun 
 will rise. My father, uncle, and Herr 
 Knopf have talked about you a great deal." 
 
 " About me ? " 
 
 " Yes, they've wondered ever so much 
 what you're going to do. Are you really 
 worth so many hundred millions ? " 
 
 " Yes, Lilian, all the money in the whole 
 world is mine." 
 
 " Ah, what do you say! you must think 
 I'm a goose ; I'm not so simple as all that. 
 But what do you mean to be ? " 
 
 " A soldier." 
 
 44 Oh, that's nice; then you'll come over 
 to us, and help kill all the people dead who 
 keep slaves. My father and uncle say 
 'twill be done soon. Ah, if 'twere only 
 now as 'twas in the old times, then we'd go 
 away together into the great forest, far off 
 into the world, and then we'd come to a 
 castle where there were only wee-bit, tiny 
 dwarfs, and there'd be one hermit, a good 
 man with a snow-white beard, whom all the 
 animals in the wood loved — and Herr 
 Knopf might be just such a hermit — yes 
 he's to be our hermit, and he'll be named 
 Emil Martin. Come, we'll call him after 
 this brother Martin." 
 
 Thus the children amused each other, 
 and Roland again asked, — 
 
 "Why must you go away so soon as 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 "And why must you stay here any 
 longer ? " answered Lilian. 
 
 " I must stay with my parents." 
 
 " And I with mine. Ah, you've a 
 beard already," cried the child, pulling sud- 
 denly the down on his lip. 
 
 " That hurts ; you've pulled out a couple 
 of hairs, and I'm proud of them." 
 
 " You're proud of them then ? " 
 
 And she tenderly stroked his face, pro- 
 nouncing at the same time a so-called heal- 
 ing-spell, which she had learned of Knopf 
 for the healing of a wound. 
 
 " Have you the dog still ? " asked Lilian. 
 
 "Yes, he must have gone with Eric. 
 Where is he, I wonder ? " 
 
 He whistled, and Griffin came up. Lilian 
 caressed the dog, and kissed him, and said 
 all kinds of loving words to him. 
 
 " I'll give the dog to you," said Ro- 
 land. 
 
 " See," cried the child, " he's looking at 
 you ; he knows he's to be handed over to 
 another master, just as a slave is. But, 
 Roland, I can't take the dog with me. I 
 mustn't say anything to father about it. 
 Only think how much trouble we should 
 have before we reached New York; you'd 
 better keep him." 
 
 Roland had been lost in thought ; now 
 he asked abruptly, — 
 
 " Have you ever seen any slaves ? " 
 
 " No, when they come to us they aren't 
 slaves any longer. But I've seen many 
 who've been slaves — one is a friend of 
 lathers, and father goes through the streets 
 with him, arm in arm." 
 
 " Come here, Griffin," she said breaking 
 off, " here's something for you." 
 
 She gave the dog a piece of sweet biscuit 
 she had in her pocket, which he ate, licking 
 his lips as he stood calmly gazing at the 
 distant landscape. 
 
 For some time the children were silent, 
 and then Lilian again asked, — 
 
 " Well, what are you going to do with 
 the ever so many millions, when you're a 
 man ? " 
 
 " What makes you ask me that ? " 
 
 "Oh, uncle and Herr Knopf have often 
 talked about what you were going to do 
 with them — and do you know what they 
 said ? " 
 
 "No. What would you do, if you had 
 so much money ? " 
 
 "I? I'd buy ever so many pretty clothes, 
 real gold and silver clothes, and then — 
 well then — then I'd build a splendid church, 
 and everybody would have to be beautifully 
 dressed, and when they came home, they'd 
 have nice things to eat. And you'll do all 
 this, won't you ? or you'll tell me what you 
 mean to do." 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " But you are to be something great. 
 Ah, to be rich, pooh! Uncle says that's 
 nothing." 
 
 " Have you ever seen a million ? " asked 
 the child again. "I'd like to see a million for 
 once. The whole room, clear up to the 
 top, would be full of rolls of gold — no, I 
 shouldn't like that. Tell me now, have 
 you a little sister ? " 
 
 " No, she's a year older than I." 
 
 " And is she beautiful too ? " 
 
 Lilian did not wait for the answer; she 
 beckoned to Roland to keep quiet, for just 
 then a lady-bug ran over her hand. She 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 385 
 
 placed the little creature on its back, say- 
 ing, — 
 
 "Look, now it's kicking, it can't help 
 itself — there, now, its little wings are under 
 its back, and with them it has got up again, 
 all by itself. Hi ! it's off. 'Twill have a 
 long story to tell when it gets home. Ah, 
 it will say, There was a great animal that 
 had five legs on its hand — my fingers must 
 appear to it like legs, and when it eats 
 supper to-night it eats with " 
 
 "Tell me, aren't you hungry too? I'm 
 hungry." 
 
 " What are you doing there?" suddenly 
 called out a woman's loud voice. "Come 
 into the house." 
 
 Lilian's aunt had made her appearance 
 behind the children, and they had to go 
 witl^her to the house. 
 
 Lilian saw Roland's frightened expression, 
 and with the idea that he must certainly be 
 thinking of the wicked woman in the story, 
 who eats the children up in the wood, she 
 said in a low tone, — 
 
 "Aunt won't do us any harm; instead, 
 we'll get something very nice to-night, 
 great pancakes and leeks. Don't you see 
 a leek in her hand, which she has just cut? 
 That's for the pancakes." 
 
 Roland and Lilian accompanied Frau 
 Weidmann into the house. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 VOCATION AND FATHER-LAND. 
 
 While the children had been dreaming 
 and chattering together in the garden, the 
 men had gone into the house. They stepped 
 into the large wainscoted entrance-hall, 
 where a great many withered wreaths were 
 suspended. Weidmann pointed out to 
 Eric that forty-two of these belonged to 
 him, for that was the number of harvests 
 he had worked in here. 
 
 The single wreath hanging by itself was 
 the fiftieth one of his father-in-law, which 
 had been placed upon his grave. Weid- 
 mann nodded as Eric said : — 
 
 "This is a decoration which cannot be 
 purchased, which one can acquire only for 
 himself." 
 
 Eric was glad to point this out to Roland. 
 
 They entered the sitting-room on the 
 ground-floor. It was spacious and comfort- 
 able, with pleasant seats in the window- 
 recesses, and chairs and tables scattered 
 about here and there. 
 
 " We live on the ground-floor in the sum- 
 mer," said Weidmann to Eric ; "every thing 
 can be overlooked here better. After the 
 leaves have fallen, we remove to the upper 
 story for the winter." 
 
 The great sitting-room opened into an- 
 other apartment, where the heavy damask 
 curtain had just been drawn back. The 
 Banker, whom Eric had become acquainted 
 with at Carlsbad, came out of it, holding in 
 his hand a bundle of papers, and gave him 
 a friendly greeting, expressing his pleasure 
 in meeting again here the man who was as 
 intimate a friend of Clodwig's as he was 
 himself. 
 
 A new subject was at once introduced. 
 The Banker said that he had looked over 
 the papers thoroughly ; the public domain 
 did not seem to be valued at too high a 
 figure, and Weidmann must understand 
 how it was purposed to divide it ; but he 
 believed that it would be hardly possible to 
 extend to this new undertaking the plan of 
 insurance which Weidmann had adopted 
 for his laborers ; that it was very question- 
 able whether the income, for years, would 
 be such that the life-insurance premium 
 could be saved. 
 
 Eric learned that Weidmann paid the 
 life-insurance premium of all his employees 
 after they had been with him four years. 
 
 Weidmann gave a statement, in general 
 outline, of the manner in which the so- 
 called social question struck him as being 
 the same as among the ancient Romans ; 
 the point of consideration was, to make free 
 and independent cultivators of their own 
 lands. And he laid particular stress upon 
 the remark that this social question, how- 
 ever, was not to be solved as if it were 
 merely a problem in arithmetic ; that there 
 must be a moral and social enthusiasm, and 
 he must confess, although many would shrug 
 their shoulders at it, that he himself was of 
 opinion that the humane principle of Free- 
 masonry, which had too much lost its real 
 meaning, was to look for, and to find here, 
 a new inspiration and application. 
 
 It was soon evident that the Banker was 
 a brother of the order. 
 
 Eric's heart swelled as he felt obliged to 
 say to himself, while his thoughts were car- 
 ried away to the grand movements of the 
 world : — 
 
 " Everywhere, in our day, there is an 
 active endeavor, a care for the neighbor, 
 for those in adverse circumstances. This is 
 our religion, which has no temples and no 
 established days of festive celebration, but 
 which, everywhere and at all times, strug- 
 gles for the good." 
 
 He entirely forgot where he came from, 
 and why he came, and lived wholly in the 
 present. 
 
 Weidmann postponed, however, the sub- 
 ject to another time, and asked what Ro- 
 land was going to do. But before Eric 
 
386 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OX THE RniNE. 
 
 could reply, a man came in with Dr. Fritz, 
 to whom Eric gave a cordial reception. It 
 was Weidmann's son-in-law, an infantry 
 offieer of high rank. The two men request- 
 ed that the conversation might not be inter- 
 rupted, and Weidmann repeated his ques- 
 tion about Roland. 
 
 Eric informed them that his pupil wanted 
 to become a soldier ; he expressed his own 
 opposition to the plan, and his desire that 
 Roland would devote himself to science or 
 agriculture. 
 
 Weidmann answered, smiling, that Eric 
 was a little too hard on this mode of life, 
 from having been a soldier ; that he him- 
 self was convinced it was of essential ad- 
 vantage to a man to have had a soldier's 
 training. A man became ready, resolute 
 and self-reliant, and at the same time he 
 was one member of a large body. No- 
 where can one be taught punctuality better, 
 or learn better what it is to command, and 
 what to obey, than in the military service. 
 Roland must be made to realize, however, 
 that this soldierly life was only transitional 
 with him, nothing that was to occupy and 
 fill out his whole existence. 
 
 " Then he will be no true soldier," inter- 
 posed Weidmanns son-in-law. " Whoever 
 undertakes anything which he does not con- 
 sider as an active employment, requiring 
 the full energies of his life, and whoever is 
 continually looking to some future vocation, 
 does not plant himself firmly in the present." 
 
 " Here you agree with my old teacher. 
 Professor Einsiedel," Eric went on. "He 
 used to say that the worst ruler is the pro- 
 visional one. It would be, therefore, im- 
 portant for Roland to adopt some perma- 
 nent calling, and not one merely temporary. 
 With his peculiar characteristics, it is very 
 hard for another to determine for him ; but 
 you, Herr Weidmann, you, with the pow- 
 erful impression which you and your active 
 usefulness have made upon Roland, you 
 would be exceedingly well adapted to give 
 to him the decisive impulse in one partic- 
 ular direction which 1 could not do, be- 
 cause I have not seen clearly what is best. 
 
 "Let us take counsel together," agreed 
 Weidmann. " We here have had a great 
 deal of experience." 
 
 "Do you think," Eric broke in. "that 
 a better result would come from a consulta- 
 tion of many, than from the quiet medita- 
 tion of a single person ? " 
 
 "Aha! doubt in the efficacy of parlia- 
 mentarianism," said Weidmann smiling. " I 
 can imagine it possible. I answer your 
 question with a simple yes. What the de- 
 liberation of many settles upon is suitable 
 for many, and a person rich like him has in 
 
 himself the power of many and for many. 
 
 Let us consult together." 
 
 They sat down, and the Banker began, — 
 
 "I believe it is Jean Paul who said, — 
 If you come into a new dwelling-place, and 
 it does not seem homelike to you, then go 
 to work and you will begin to feel at home. 
 I should like to extend this further. One 
 feels at home in the world only through 
 labor; he who does not work is homeless." 
 
 The conversation was again interrupted 
 by the entrance of the Russian prince, 
 Weidmann's son, and Knopf. The subject 
 was' again stated. 
 
 " We have a good council of deliberation," 
 said Weidmann, sitting back in his chair. 
 " You have all seen the noble-looking 
 youth, Herr Sonnenkamp's son, and Gap- 
 tain Dournay has trained him so that now, 
 we might say, he is fitted to enter upon 
 whatever calling he may adopt. *What 
 now shall the boy do ? " 
 
 "Allow me one preliminary question," 
 interposed Knopf. " Must a rich man pro- 
 duce, accomplish anything himself? Is it 
 not his task to further the production, the 
 doing of others, whether art, science, in- 
 dustry, or labor, and to make himself so far 
 familiar with it as to give such aid ? " 
 
 "You wanted to answer something." 
 Weidmann pointed to the Banker, whose 
 features were very expressive, and who 
 seemed to have a remark on his lips. 
 
 "Not exactly answer," responded the 
 Banker. " I wanted, first of all, to distin- 
 guish between vocation and business. 
 There are active pursuits which are only a 
 business, and again there are positions 
 which are only a vocation. This is the 
 chief difficulty, that a person so excessively 
 rich must have only a vocation ; there is no 
 necessity of his pursuing any business. 
 Rich people's children degenerate, because 
 there is no such necessity." 
 
 ' ' What do you understand by vocation ? " 
 asked Weidmann. 
 
 " I can't at once define it." 
 
 " Then allow me to help you," said Eric. 
 " Vocation is a natural gift, or a necessity, 
 which we turn into a law that acts freely. 
 The brute has no vocation, because he fol- 
 lows natural instinct alone." 
 
 "Very true," nodded the Banker grate- 
 fully. " One question more," he said, turn- 
 ing to Eric. " Hasn't your pupil, as I am 
 sorry to say most rich men's sons have, the 
 desire to be a cavalier, a young nobleman ? " 
 
 As Eric made no answer, he continued, — 
 
 " Our misfortune is, that the sons of the 
 rich are satisfied with being heirs, and do 
 not want to find a means of active develop- 
 ment for themselves." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 387 
 
 "As we have heard already," began 
 Weidmann's son-in-law, " the young mar* 
 wishes to become a soldier, and I believe 
 that he ought to be encouraged in that pur- 
 pose. I hope that it won't be attributed to 
 prejudice in favor of my own calling, but I 
 must repeat our father's view, that the mili- 
 tary profession, more than any other, gives a 
 certain decision of character. To have to 
 stand ready every day with bag and bag- 
 gage, scrip and scrippage, this makes one 
 prompt and decided ; this standing army 
 becomes a fact, as it were, in each individ- 
 ual soldier." 
 
 " Granted," rejoined Weidmann. " But 
 is it not to be feared that a man, who has 
 been a soldier for the best years of his life, 
 will be able to take up with great difficulty 
 any other employment ? He always regards 
 himself as on furlough ; and the great mis- 
 fortune — I might call it the leading ten- 
 dency of our time — manifests itself espec- 
 ially in the rich, who look upon themselves 
 as on furlough, always on vacation." 
 
 " The best thing about it is, Roland will 
 run through his money, and then it is scat- 
 tered among the people," jokingly observed 
 Weidmann's son, showing those imperti- 
 nently white teeth that Tranken objected to 
 so strongly. 
 
 "I would like to say one word," the 
 Russian remarked to Knopf, who cried, — 
 
 " The Prince requests to have the lloor." 
 
 Weidmann bowed to him pleasantly. 
 
 " I think that we can furnish an example in 
 Russia. Our wealthy men are obliged to 
 become agriculturists, whether the inheri- 
 tance consists in money or goods. Why 
 should not the young man be simply an agri- 
 culturist ? " 
 
 "Agriculture has five branches," replied 
 Weidmann, " and they ought to have their 
 roots in five corresponding inclinations. 
 Agriculture consists of physics, chemistry, 
 mineralogy, botany, and zoology, and one of 
 these, that is, the inclination to one of these 
 sciences, and the activity growing out of it, 
 must have its foundation in the natural bent 
 or genius, otherwise there is no happiness in 
 one's calling. And do you know," he turned 
 toward the Prince, smiling, " do you know 
 what is the first requisite for an agrieultur- 
 ist?" 
 
 " Money." 
 
 "No, that's the second. The first is a 
 sound human understanding. There are far 
 more intellectual men than there are men of 
 genuine common sense." 
 
 The Prince nodded to Knopf, and he 
 gave a merry nod in return. 
 
 Weidmann opposed, with a warmth that 
 was very different from his usually composed I 
 
 manner, the view generally entertained of 
 agriculture as a sort of universal refuge, to 
 which every one could have recourse ; and 
 yet the conclusion was finally arrived at, 
 that it would be the most suitable thing for 
 Roland to devote himself to agriculture, in 
 connection with other branches of industry 
 carried out on a large scale. 
 
 The conversation broke up into groups. 
 Knopf said to Eric, that at the present time 
 there was no longer an Olympus where the 
 fate of human beings could be decided, and 
 Weidmann added, that the worst thing of 
 all was, that Roland had nothing to expect, 
 nothing to wish for and to obtain, and for 
 which he must exert his energies, happy 
 when he succeeded in his first attempt, and 
 then girding himself immediately for an- 
 other ; for this is the impelling cause of all 
 movement and progress, that what is at- 
 tained becomes the seed of a new effort. 
 
 " You were right," he closed, finally turn- 
 ing to Eric, "we cannot provide for 
 another in advance, least of all here. And 
 no one can be trained to be a giver of hap- 
 piness. There must be awakened within 
 the youth a desire to associate himself 
 with his fellow-men ; he must not merely 
 want to confer happiness, but to create 
 something. Out of creative activity alone 
 proceeds happiness. He must be educated 
 both for himself and for others ; he must 
 refer everything to others, and at the same 
 time to himself." 
 
 Dr. Fritz had taken no part in the dis- 
 cussion ; he sat meditatively with his brows 
 contracted. 
 
 " Why have you had nothing to say?" 
 said Weidmann in a low tone to him, when 
 the conversation had become general. Dr. 
 Fritz replied in the same low tone : — 
 
 " It is hard enough to know what to do 
 with such an enormous inheritance right- 
 eously acquired ; but how much harder, 
 with one to which guilt adheres." 
 
 Weidmann made a significant sign to his 
 nephew, and laid his finger upon his lips, 
 as if begging silence. Eric had heard noth- 
 ing of the conversation between the two, 
 but as he looked at them, he had a feeling, 
 as if something transpired there which was 
 calculated to excite alarm. He had an 
 involuntary dread, for which he could not 
 assign any reason. 
 
 Frau Weidmann now came. in, and in- 
 vited them to the table. They got up at 
 once and proceeded to the dining-room. 
 
 Eric sat by the side of Knopf, and said 
 to him : — 
 
 " I have a question to ask you, Herr 
 Colleague, which you may take until to- 
 morrow to answer." 
 
I 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 388 
 
 "What is it, pray? 1 ' 
 
 " What would you do, if you should be- 
 come the possessor suddenly of many mil- 
 lions.? " 
 
 Knopf, who had just put his glass up to 
 his mouth, began to cough and choke so 
 that he was forced to leave the table. He 
 came back again after a while, but he ate 
 and drank nothing the whole evening. 
 
 The Banker, who read a great many 
 journals, asked Dr. Fritz if the horrible 
 stories one reads of American life had any 
 foundation in truth. 
 
 " Most certainly," answered Dr. Fritz — 
 Roland looked sharply at him — "if we fix 
 the gaze upon some individual and separate 
 fact in the development of life in the New 
 World, we shall often be wounded by mon- 
 strous appearances of deformity ; but a 
 very distinguished statesman once gave me 
 a striking illustration, of which I am glad 
 to make a wider extension. This gentle- 
 man said to me : — 'I was at Munich, and 
 there I first understood aright my father- 
 land. I was at the foundry where the 
 gigantic statue of Bavaria was cast, and 
 the different parts of the figure were lying 
 around, here an arm, a knee, a hand, there 
 the head and a part of the trunk, all horri- 
 ble to look at in this separate condition. 
 But when I saw the whole colossal statue 
 set up in its place, and in all its beautiful 
 harmony of proportions, then it occurred 
 to me that America must be looked at in 
 this way. The separate parts appear mon- 
 strous, but if one regards it at as a whole, 
 it is of an unequalled beauty and gran- 
 deur." 
 
 At these words, Roland looked up at 
 Eric with a bright, triumphant glance, and 
 smiled. 
 
 They rose from the table. Lilian was 
 soon put to bed, and when Dr. Fritz took 
 leave previous to retiring, Roland retained 
 his hand firmly, saying : — 
 
 " I thank you for having so beautifully 
 extolled my fatherland. I shall never for- 
 get it." 
 
 '"' Shall you not consider Germany as 
 your fatherland ? " 
 
 "No,"^was Roland's loud and decided 
 answer. 
 
 " Stay here. I have something yet to 
 say to you," said Weidmann in a low tone 
 to Eric. 
 
 Roland walked about with Knopf in the 
 bright starry night, and Knopf had to prom- 
 ise him that he would wake him up to say 
 good-bye to Dr. Fritz and his child. Ro- 
 land then consented to go to bed, but was ; 
 long in falling asleep, for the events of the 
 day, the noise of the brook, and the clat- I 
 
 tering of the mill kept him awake. But at 
 last weariness and youth gained the vic- 
 tory, and he slept soundly. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NOCTURNAL INFORMATION, AND A FARE- 
 WELL LOST BY SLEEP. 
 
 Roland slept ; he little thought that over 
 him and his destiny two men were keeping 
 watch in the deepest anxiety. 
 
 Eric had followed his host into the work- 
 room, and here Weidmann asked him: 
 " Do you know why you are sent here? " 
 " Sent here?" 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Herr Sonnenkamp wants to establish 
 friendly relations with you, and I myself 
 
 have wished for some time " 
 
 " Good. The best spy is often the one 
 who doesn't know that he has to be a spy, 
 who looks on innocently and reports inno- 
 cently." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 " Take my word for it, Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp didn't for a moment think of coming 
 to our house, especially as he does not 
 yet know when Dr. Fritz leaves ; his pre- 
 tending to you that he was called away was 
 quite harmless. ' Send a messenger, and he 
 will send you word with his regrets that he 
 cannot come himself, but will send the car- 
 riage. Ah ! my young friend, there is no 
 pleasure in following up the trail of the 
 beast of prey in man. But first of all, one 
 question. Do you know how Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp comes on in his endeavors to get a 
 title?" 
 "No." 
 
 "Do you know that I have hit upon 
 means to be relied on of forming an opin- 
 ion of Herr Sonnenkamp's deserts ? " 
 
 Eric expressed his ignorance, and Weid- 
 mann continued : 
 
 " I have told you that the groom who 
 blows the trumpet was once a convict. I 
 have still another convict that I keep on an 
 out of the way part of the estate, for he 
 doesn't do well, not so much from an evil 
 disposition, as from a spirit of braggadocio 
 when he is amongst men. You see then 
 that I do not reject men of criminal antece- 
 dents ; for pride in our own yirtue is very 
 weak-kneed. It is, at the best, only good 
 luck if we, by teaching and example, and 
 with the means of subsistence assured to us, 
 do not burden ourselves with many an ill 
 deed that we cannot blot out. Of course, 
 a long-continued, closely-calculating occu- 
 jpation, revolting to every feeling of human- 
 ity — but as I said, I will put no obstacle 
 I in Herr Sonnenkamp's way, only it is in- 
 
THE COUNTEY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 389 
 
 comprehensible to me that he should seek 
 to be ennobled, and in that way voluntarily* 
 challenge inquiry into his antecedents. If, 
 as my friend Wolfsgarten says, you have 
 great influence over Herr Sonnenkamp, ad- 
 vise him to give this thing up." 
 
 Eric held his hand before his eyes ; his 
 eye was burning, he strove to speak, but 
 could not. 
 
 Weidmann, who misapprehended this 
 emotion, said in a mild tone : — 
 
 " I admire your power, in having been 
 able, as Herr Knopf informed me, and as 
 I myself see, to bring an atmosphere of no- 
 ble feeling into this family, to hold your pu- 
 pil in the path of innocence, and to natural- 
 ize him in all that is good. If this boy 
 should one day learn 11 
 
 "Learn what? what? I beg of you," 
 Eric was at last able to utter. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," answered Weid- 
 mann, pressing his head with both hands, 
 " do you mean to say that you know noth- 
 ing about it ? " 
 
 "I know nothing more than this, that 
 Herr Sonnenkamp owned large plantations 
 with great numbers of slaves, that he grew 
 tired of the life, and therefore came back to 
 Germany." 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp — Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp ! " said Weidmann, " a pretty name ! 
 and it is well for him that his mother bore 
 it. So you have never heard of a Herr 
 Banfield?" 
 
 "Nothing very definite; but the head 
 gardener told me that Herr Sonnenkamp 
 was very angry on his return from the Baths, 
 when he found that name registered in the 
 visitors' book. But tell me, what is there 
 in that ? " 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, or rather, not Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, but, as his name really is, Herr 
 Banfield, is in so many words the most no- 
 torious slave-dealer ever known in the South- 
 ern States ; nay, more. My nephew, Doctor 
 Fritz, could tell you many a thing he has 
 done ; he even went so far as to defend sla- 
 very in the public prints, and he was so 
 shameless as to set himself up as a proof 
 that all Germans had not degenerated' into 
 sentimental humanity, but that he, a repre- 
 sentative of Germany, supported slavery, 
 maintaining it to be right. He has a ring 
 on his thumb ; if he takes the ring off, you 
 can see the marks of the teeth of a slave 
 whom he was throttling, and who bit him in 
 that thumb." 
 
 A cry of horror was wrung from Eric's 
 heart ; he could onlv gasp out the words : — 
 
 "O Roland! O Mother ! O Manna ! " 
 
 " It grieves me to tell you this, but it is 
 best that you should learn it through me. 
 
 You cannot conceive that a man with such 
 antecedents can at times appear so well, 
 and engage in the discussions of principles. 
 Yes, this man is a swamp encircled with 
 flowers. The fellow has cost me many days 
 of my life, for I cannot understand how he 
 can live. Slave-dealing is murder in cold 
 blood, the annihilation of free existence for 
 one's own gain ; the murderer from passion, 
 and the murderer from rapacity, stalk over 
 the corpses of their victims to gratify their 
 desire of establishing their supposed rights. 
 The world is to them a field of battle and a 
 conflict, an annihilation of their foes, to find 
 room for themselves. But a slave-dealer — 
 a slave murderer ! And this man is now a 
 fruit-grower, a most excellent, careful fruit- 
 grower, in mockery of the words : ' By 
 their fruits ye shall know them.' Oh ! my 
 head was fairly crazed with this man, until I 
 brought myself to the point of being able to 
 forget him ! " 
 
 Weidmann spoke on uninterruptedly, as 
 if he did not wish these sad thoughts to 
 settle down upon him. 
 
 Soon Eric raised his head and besought 
 him : — 
 
 " Tell me all." 
 
 " Yes, you shall know all, — ah, what is 
 all ? You have heard of the fate of Captain 
 Brown at Harper's Ferry ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Was Herr Sonnenkamp 
 there too ? " 
 
 " He was a ringleader." 
 
 Eric related how Roland at one time in 
 his fever dreams shouted, "John Brown is 
 banning on the gallows ! " 
 
 The more he spoke of Roland, the more 
 feelingly his voice trembled, and at last hot 
 tears burst from his eyes. He apologized 
 for this weakness before Weidmann, who 
 said : — 
 
 " Your tears consecrate you in my eyes 
 forever ; you shall find in me a friend whom 
 you may call upon at any time and in any 
 situation of life. Whatever is in my power 
 is yours, your deeds shall be mine. You 
 are not weak, you are strong, you must be ; 
 and it is a noble vocation for you to be 
 placed as you are at the side of such a youth, 
 with such a fatal inheritance." 
 
 Eric stood up and drew a long deep 
 breath ; the two men held fast each other's 
 hands, and laying his left on his heart, Eric 
 said : — 
 
 " I hope that I shall show myself worthy 
 of your appeal." 
 
 " I knew this, and it is better, as I said, 
 that you have learned the thing from me. 
 There's no doubt about the matter, depend 
 upon it." 
 
 For a long while not a word was spoken. 
 
390 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Eric had called out Manna's name with Ro- 
 land's and his mother's. Now, for the first 
 time, in the deepest sorrow, it broke upon 
 him fully, that he loved Manna ; and with a 
 sense of satisfaction the thought shot through 
 his soul that he had not yet spoken to her 
 a word of love. 
 
 Terrified at this selfishness he started up. 
 
 How could he think of himself, and not 
 of her hard fate ? He grieved for her, above 
 all, that she should be the daughter of such 
 a man. 
 
 How will she bear it ? And did she know 
 it perhaps already ? Was this the cause of 
 her secluded life, of the eagerness to sacri- 
 fice herself and take the veil ? 
 
 " Don't lose yourself in thoughts and 
 anxious speculations," said Weidmann ad- 
 monishingly. 
 
 Eric did not dare to speak of Manna ; he 
 merely asked Weidmann whether he thought 
 he ought to communicate this information to 
 his mother ; for it was doubly agonizing to 
 have involved his mother in such a connec- 
 tion. 
 
 Weidmann said that he well knew what 
 a frightful thing it must be to eat this man's 
 bread, to drink his wine, to receive services 
 at his hand. But he impressed upon Eric 
 the necessity of sparing his mother the reci- 
 tal as long as possible, since he needed her 
 sorely as a stay for Frau Ceres and Manna. 
 Yes, Weidmann called it a rare piece -of 
 good fortune to have at one's side, aiding 
 and supporting, a woman so noble, and so 
 tried in the battle of life. 
 
 It was long after midnight when Eric left 
 his host. 
 
 He went to his room ; he saw that Ro- 
 land was asleep, and a silent vow rose to 
 his lips, as he gazed upon the handsome, 
 sleeping boy. 
 
 Eric wandered restless through the house 
 and through the woods ; meteors darted 
 hither and thither through the sky ; in the 
 distance glistened the waves of the Rhine ; 
 a dewy atmosphere lay upon the whole 
 earth ; Eric found no rest, nay, he found 
 hardly a moment's meditation. What should 
 he, what could he do ? 
 
 Morning began to glimmer ; he returned 
 to the courtyard. 
 
 Here everything was full of life. 
 
 He first fell in with Knopf, who said to 
 him : — 
 
 " I haven't slept a wink the whole night 
 on your account. Ah, that question of 
 yours ! Theoretically it cannot be solved, 
 since all the real relations of life are made 
 up not of whole numbers, but of fractions 
 only, and can only be expressed in fractions. 
 So the total also cannot be expressed in one 
 
 whole number. I can't make out, and it 
 turns my head to think of what I should do 
 if I were possessed of many millions. To 
 found benevolent institutions, that is hardly 
 enough; the whole world shouldn't be a 
 vast almshouse, a piously endowed estab- 
 lishment. I would have joy and beauty 
 everywhere ; men should be not only fed 
 and clothed, they should also be happy. 
 In the first place, I would x found in every 
 town a good salary for the teacher who 
 leads the singing-club, and a pint of wine 
 for every member on Sunday ; and I would 
 build a concert-hall in every town, with lofty 
 summer-saloons, and well-heated rooms in 
 winter, ornamented with beautiful paintings ; 
 and in them should be hung up the prizes 
 gained by the club. 
 
 " 1 would also erect an institute for poor 
 children, and make myself director of it; 
 and then I would found a refuge for deserv- 
 ing tutors. I have even fixed on the name it 
 should go by, — " The Home for Eventide." 
 Oh, that will be magnificent ; how the old 
 teachers will wrangle and each extol his 
 system as the best ! I have also decided to 
 lefl the principal lie, and take a million from 
 it to go travelling with. I would take with 
 me a dozen or more companions, honest, 
 capable men, naturalists, painters, sculptors, 
 merchants, politicians, teachers — in a word, 
 capable men from all callings. I would 
 have them equipped with everything need- 
 ful, and we would stop wherever and as 
 long as we chose. In this way I would 
 learn what are the best social arrangements 
 in the world, and when I came home I'd 
 establish similar ones. I do not expect to 
 lind it out all at once. Only think what 
 a fine thing such a journey would be, with 
 a dozen or more right clever men, with our 
 own ship for the sea, and with mules for 
 the mountains. In a word, it would be 
 splendid, and useful at the same time. 
 And when Roland conies home he must turn 
 agriculturist; it is altogether the best life; 
 that is to say, man has in that life the best 
 basis to stand upon — the most natural 
 basis. But, as I said, I am counting my 
 chickens before they are hatched." 
 
 Eric hardly heard what Knopf was say- 
 ing, and for the first time woke up out of 
 his dreams when Knopf asked him, — 
 
 "Where is Roland ? I promised to wake 
 him in time for the departure of Doctor 
 Fritz and his child." 
 
 " Just let him sleep." 
 
 " On your responsibility ? " 
 
 " On my responsibility." 
 
 ** Very well," rejoined Knopf. " Indeed, 
 I had rather not wake him. In that way 
 Roland will have to suffer a pretty little bit 
 
i 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 of romantic pain. I cannot tolerate this 
 sentimental nonsense between children. 
 Now he has taken his leave, or rather not 
 taken his leave in the night, and while he 
 was sleeping she disappeared ; that is a bit 
 of romantic pain. This taking leave ! In 
 the morning, shivering and shaking on the 
 steamer-landing, or at the railroad station, 
 you take leave ; then the ship or the train 
 moves off", then you stand there like one 
 who has been robbed, and- then you have 
 got to go back. Ab, it is so absurd ! I 
 shiver a whole day after a farewell. But 
 now if Roland wakes up and the child has 
 flown away, that may leave a sweet, strong, 
 ecstatic remembrance behind in the soul; 
 and we too, you, Doctor, and I, are both 
 giants in this children's story." 
 
 At this point Herr and Frau Weidmann 
 came upon the scene, as well as their sons, 
 the Russian, the Banker, and all the inmates 
 of the house. All shook hands once more 
 with Doctor Fritz and his child, and Lilian 
 cried, — 
 
 "Herr Knopf, give my compliments to 
 Roland, the sleeper." 
 
 Away rolled the carriage, the inmates of 
 the house retired to bed ; all but Eric arid 
 Knopf, who still roamed about in the morn- 
 ing twilight ; and Knopf was especially 
 happy to watch so closely once more the 
 universal awakening of nature. 
 
 He said that one always neglected it, 
 unless compelled to observe it ; and that 
 there were doubtless many poets who sang 
 of the dewy twilight of the morn, who 
 were at the same time frightfully late sleep- 
 ers. 
 
 Eric listened to the good Knopf, but 
 could not conceive how there could be a 
 man out there in the open air alive to such 
 contemplation ; with him every thought and 
 every act, the very idea that "there was still 
 much to do in life, seemed like a shadowy 
 dream. 
 
 On the other hand, Knopf thought that 
 Eric was all attention, and expressed 
 regret that the child had gone ; he still had 
 the Russian Prince to instruct, indeed, but 
 the child had made the whole house happy ; 
 she was like a living, speaking rose trans- 
 planted from the New World. They were 
 evidently expressions which were to serve 
 as ornaments to a poem already begun or 
 in contemplation. 
 
 Eric listened to it all patiently. 
 
 At last he asked Knopf if Doctor Fritz 
 had said much to him about Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 Knopf confirmed a part of Weidmann's 
 information ; but he did not seem to know 
 everything. 
 
 391 
 
 " I take the holy morn to witness," ex- 
 claimed Knopf, " you are a man to be hon- 
 ored, Herr Dournay. If I had known at 
 the time the antecedents of Herr Sonnen- 
 "kamp, I should not have felt so secure when 
 I was teaching Roland. I should always 
 have felt as if there was a loaded pistol at 
 my ear, to go off at any moment. Yes, 
 you are a strong man ; this is >a new kind 
 of greatness, for I know what it means to 
 control and manage Roland as you do." 
 
 Knopf had seized hold of Eric's hand, 
 and in his excessive enthusiasm he kissed 
 it. 
 
 Eric was calm, and Knopf had a beatific 
 look ; his countenance with its smiles was 
 like the stream, on whose bosom the wind 
 tosses along the rippling waves. He main- 
 tained that they were both happy in being 
 co-workers in the solution of the most diffi- 
 cult and most sublime problem of the cen- 
 tury ; for Eric had Roland to instruct, who 
 would be obliged to have relations with 
 slavery, and he himself had the Russian for 
 a pupil, whc« had now the emancipated serfs 
 to manage. 
 
 He represented that the prince wanted him 
 to go home with him, and establish a school 
 for the liberated serfs ; Doctor Fritz, on 
 the other hand, wanted him to go to Amer- 
 ica and manage a school for the children of 
 freed negroes. He reproached himself with 
 not having really a stronger inclination for 
 the negro children, for as he wished to be 
 honest, he must confess he would only go 
 to America for the sake of seeing Lilian 
 once more, and observing how she devel- 
 oped, and what fortune was in store for 
 her. 
 
 As Eric was returning to the courtyard, 
 he saw Weidmann and the Banker getting 
 into the carriage ; they were going to the 
 capital to negotiate for the domain. Eric 
 bade good-bye to them, and expressed his 
 determination to return at once to Villa 
 Eden. As he named Villa Eden, he felt a 
 shiver creep over him. Weidmann stepped 
 out of the carriage once more, took Eric 
 aside, impressed upon him the necessity of 
 being circumspect, and from the carriage 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " Dear Dournay, both for your mother 
 and your aunt, my house is always yours." 
 
 Eric went away to waken Roland. As 
 he woke up, he cried, — 
 
 " Is it morning already? Are they still 
 here ? " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Lilian and her father." 
 "No; they have been gone this long 
 while." 
 
 " And why didn't you wake me up ? " 
 
392 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Because you needed sleep. In one 
 hour we are going home again." 
 
 Koland turned defiantly away; but while 
 Eric was talking to him with great earnest- 
 ness, he turned his face towards him at last, 
 and on his long eyelashes stood big tears. 
 
 " What tears will those eyes one day 
 shed ? " said Eric to himself. 
 
 The carriage in which Doctor Fritz and 
 his child had left came back. The coach- 
 man brought still another greeting from 
 Lilian to Roland. The horses were not 
 taken out, but fed in harness, and soon 
 Eric and Roland were journeying home- 
 wards. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE WORLD A MASQUERADE. 
 
 If romantic affliction manifests itself in a 
 pale face, a feeling of loathing, obstinacy, 
 and haired of one's neighbor and of every- 
 thing, then had Roland experienced a gen- 
 uine romantic affliction. He sat near Eric 
 in the carriage, and shut his eyes so as to see 
 nothing but what was going on in his own 
 imagination ; he pressed his lips hard to- 
 gether, pale and trembling, determined not 
 to say a word. 
 
 Am I a child still, he asked himself, that 
 can be ^knocked about hither and thither, 
 that must obey and ask for no reason ? Why 
 didn't Eric give a reason for his returning 
 so suddenly ? Why did Knopf, with a tri- 
 umphant smile, tell me that he didn't wake 
 me on purpose ? Then it flashed upon him 
 that Knopf had taken upon himself the re- 
 sponsibility that Eric had assumed, and he 
 might have thought that it would be better 
 lor Roland to be angry with an absent one, 
 than with him in whose hands he had to re- 
 main. In the meanwhile Roland glanced 
 over towards Eric, to see whether he wasn't 
 on the point of beginning to explain every- 
 thing to him ; but Eric was silent ; he had 
 also shut his eyes. 
 
 In the bright day, through a landscape 
 full of life, they both rode on wrapt in 
 their own reveries. 
 
 Overcome with fatigue, Eric sat as if 
 sunk in a half sleep, in which the rattle of 
 the carriage sounded like a demoniacal rum- 
 ble. At times, when they were descending, 
 and the locked wheels squeaked and grated, 
 he would look up, catch a glimpse of the 
 Rhine in the distance, then shut his eyes, 
 and in his half dream pierce through the 
 view of water of mountain ; and it seemed 
 to him, as if everything was flooded over, 
 and in the midst of the waves stood two 
 men on rocks, far from, and still beckon- 
 ing to, each other. On one stood Clodwig, 
 
 speaking of a Roman relic which he held in 
 his hand, and on the other stood Weidmann, 
 talking of life insurance, and between whiles 
 they were talking about Eric and Roland. 
 And just as he woke up he heard quite dis- 
 tinctly, as if both had shouted out to each 
 other, "Eric and Roland have reached 
 home safely ! " 
 
 "Here there are," they had shouted; 
 " here they are," shouted a voice from with- 
 out. 
 
 The horses stopped ; Fraulein Milch was 
 standing at the garden hedge ; they were at 
 the Major's. Eric greeted her, and taking 
 it for granted that they had not come to see 
 her, Fraulein Milch called out : — 
 
 " The Major drove over to the Villa more 
 than an hour ago, and left word with me, 
 that he would not be back to dinner." 
 
 Eric got out ; he asked Fraulein Milch 
 about his mother, and whether she knew 
 what was going on at the villa. He learned 
 that there must be something unusual, for 
 everything was in happy confusion ; to-day, 
 undoubtedly, the betrothal of Von Pranken 
 and Manna would be solemnized. 
 
 . Eric allowed Roland to go home alone ; 
 he had to shape his course anew. 
 
 " The whole world is a masquerade," 
 said Fraulein Milch. 
 
 Eric, who honored the good old lady sin- 
 cerely, did not, however, feel in the mood 
 for discussing generalities about mankind ; 
 and when Fräulein Milch tried to get out 
 of him what he had learned at Mattenheim, 
 he approached the limit of impoliteness in 
 answer to her repeated inquiries. He did 
 not suspect that Fraulein Milch, who knew 
 everything already, wished to come to an 
 explanation with him. 
 
 He had desired to compose himself here 
 as in a sort of ante-room, and to think mat- 
 ters over, and now he went away as if fright- 
 ened. He saw the handsome villa glisten- 
 ing in the bright sunshine, the blazing panes 
 o.f the glass house and cupola ; he saw the 
 park, he saw the green cottage in which his 
 mother lived — and all this was built and 
 planted from the profits of traffic in human 
 beings. 
 
 Does Pranken know it ? He must know 
 it, and then it remains to be seen whether 
 he will extend his hand to the daughter 
 of this house. Hatred and bitterness that 
 Manna should belong to this house pene- 
 trated his whole being, made his hair sfand 
 on end, and clenched his fists ; he would 
 dash the whole lying structure to pieces. 
 But Manna — how would she take it? He 
 stood still, upbraiding himself that he had 
 ever thought himself capable of cherishing 
 one noble thought within his soul. He stood 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 393 
 
 still and stared at the rocks as if he would 
 have dashed them down into the valley, crush- 
 ing everything beneath. A physical pain, a 
 pang through his heart, almost took away his 
 breath. Beaming out from the surrounding 
 darkness it stood before him — he loved 
 Manna ; and without being aware of it, he 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 " The daughter of this man thy wife, the 
 mother of thy children ? The world is a 
 masquerade." 
 
 The words of Fraulein Milch came back 
 to him, and he added to them, — 
 
 " And I am not called to tear off the 
 mask from -the faces of the maskers ? " 
 
 Inwardly composed he went to the villa. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MILLION OF POUNDS IN HAND, AND A 
 UNIFORM TO BACK IT. 
 
 When Roland came to the Villa, he was 
 at once summoned to his father ; and as he 
 approached him, Sonnenkamp exclaimed : — 
 
 "My son! my son! it is thou indeed! 
 everything for thee ; thou art forever secure, 
 and elevated forever. My beloved son ! 
 Everything for thee ! " 
 
 The strong man now raised up the youth 
 like a child, and exclaimed : — " Roland, it 
 is accomplished ; forget not this moment, the 
 crowning moment of my whole life, crowded 
 as it hes been with dangers and wanderings. 
 My son, from this day forth, you are to be 
 called Roland von Lichtenburg." 
 
 Roland stood once more on the floor, 
 and trembled as he cast an involuntary 
 glance into the large mirror. 
 
 "Yes, 1 ' laughed the father, "look at 
 yourself; so does the young baron appear. 
 Ah ! my child, you will know after a while 
 what has been done for you. But let it re- 
 main concealed between ourselves how we 
 have been affected by this, for I cannot 
 show the world, and you must not, that I 
 laid so much stress on the matter. I shall 
 appear indifferent ; we must both appear so. 
 Above all, do not let Herr Dournay know 
 anything of it. You came quick to-day; 
 where did you meet my messenger ? " 
 
 Roland said that he knew nothing of any 
 messenger. He now heard that his father, 
 in the night, had sent a messenger to Mat- 
 tenheim, with word to come back at once ; 
 and also that the son of the Cabinetsrath, 
 the ensign, had been on a visit to the house 
 with many companions, who were again 
 coming at noon to see Roland. 
 
 " And where is Herr Dournay? " again 
 asked Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Roland replied that he had remained be- 
 hind with Fraulein Milch. Sonnenkamp 
 
 laughed, and impressed his son with the ne- 
 cessity of continuing his customary deport- 
 ment towards Eric ; he must always be 
 grateful to him, and he should be especially 
 careful to be right modest. 
 
 " You must also learn to treat our elevation 
 of rank as unimportant before the world. 
 Now go to your mother — no, wait. You 
 must still have something more that will 
 make you strong, that will make you proud, 
 that will make you feel safe. Stand here, 
 I will show you how highly I esteem you, 
 how I look upon you as a grown man. 11 
 
 He fumbled hurriedly in his pocket final- 
 ly he brought out the ring of keys, went 
 to the fire-proof safe built in the wall, rat- 
 tled back the knobs on it, and at once 
 opened both the folding-doors. 
 
 " See here," said he, "all this will, one 
 day, b& yours, yours and your sister's. 
 Come here, hold out your hands — so." He 
 took a large package out of the safe, and 
 said : — • 
 
 "Attend to what I say ; here I put a 
 million pounds sterling — so — hold tight. 
 Do you know what that is, a million pounds ? 
 more than six millions of thalers are con- 
 tained in these papers, and, beside that, I 
 have something to spare. Does your head 
 whirl? it must not; you must know what 
 you*possess, what will make you master of 
 the world, superior to everything. Now 
 give it to me. See, here it lies in this place ; 
 close by it are the other papers ; underneath 
 them is gold, coined gold ; a good deal of it ; 
 I like coined gold; uncoined, too; that lies 
 here. I may die. I often feel that a ver- 
 tigo might suddenly seize me, and carry 
 me off". Over here, see here — here lies my 
 will. When I die, you are of age. Now, 
 my full-grown son, you are a man, give me 
 your hand. How does the hand feel that 
 held in it millions of your own ? That gives 
 strength, does it not ? Be not faint-hearted ; 
 I trust you. you and I alone know it. Now 
 go, my son, be proud within yourself and 
 modest before the world ; you are more, 
 you have more, than all the nobility of this 
 land, more perhaps than the Prince him- 
 self. There, my child, there ! this moment 
 makes me happy — very happy. If I die, 
 you know already — you know all now. 
 There, go now. Come and let me kiss you 
 once. Now go." 
 
 Roland could not utter a word ; he went, 
 he stood outside the door, he stared at his 
 hands, — these hands had held millions of his 
 own ; everything that he had ever thought 
 and heard of the joy and woe of riches, every- 
 thing was in utter confusion in his mind ; 
 inwardly, however, he experienced a sensa- 
 tion of joy, of proud enthusiasm, that had 
 
394 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 almost made him shout aloud. If he had 
 only been permitted to tell it all to Eric ! 
 He felt as if he could not keep it to himself; 
 but then he was not allowed to communi- 
 cate it to any one. His father had put his 
 trust in him ; he dared not betray the trust. 
 
 He went to his mother. Frau Ceres, 
 handsomely dressed, was walking up and 
 down in the great hall ; she gave Roland a 
 haughty nod, and gazed at him a long while 
 without saying a word ; at length she said : — 
 
 "How am I to.be saluted simply with 
 'Good-morning, mamma?' It ought to be, 
 ' Good-morning, Frau mamma, good-morn- 
 ing, Frau Baroness. You are very gracious, 
 Frau Baroness — I commend myself to your 
 grace, Frau Baroness — you look extreme- 
 ly well, Frau Baroness.' Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Roland felt a painful shudder thrill through 
 him ; it seemed to him as if his mother had 
 suddenly become insane. But in a mo- 
 ment she was standing before a mirror, and 
 saying : — 
 
 " Your father is right — quite right ; we 
 have all been born to-day for the first time, 
 we have come into the world anew, and we 
 are all noble. Now come, kiss your mother, 
 your gracious mother." 
 
 She kissed Roland passionately, and then 
 said, that if she could only have all the ma- 
 licious tale-bearers there, they would be 
 smothered with envy at beholding the good 
 fortune that had befallen her. 
 
 " But where is Manna? " asked Roland. 
 
 " She is silly, she has been spoiled in the 
 convent, and will not hear a word about 
 anything ; she has shut herself up in her 
 room, and will not let any one see her. Go 
 try if she will not speak to you, and get her 
 to smile. The Professorin has always told 
 me that I was sensible ; yes, now I will be 
 sensible; I will show that I am. The big 
 Frau von Endlich, and the Countess Wolfs- 
 garten, proud as a peacock — we are noble 
 too, now — will burst with indignation. 
 Go, dear child, go to your sister, bring her 
 here ; we will rejoice together, and dress up 
 finely, and to-morrow you shall go with 
 your father and Herr von Pranken to the 
 capital. 1 ' 
 
 Roland went to Manna's room, he knocked 
 and called ; she answered finally that she 
 would see him in an hour's time, but now 
 she must be left alone. 
 
 As Roland was going to his own room, 
 Pranken met him ; he embraced him warm- 
 ly, called him brother, and accompanied him 
 with congratulations to his room. Here 
 lay the uniform, which had been ordered 
 for Roland. Pranken urged him to put it 
 on at once ; but Roland did not want to, 
 before he had passed his examination. 
 
 "Pah!" laughed Pranken, "examina- 
 tion ! that is a scare-crow for poor devils of 
 commoners. My young friend, you are now 
 a Baron, and by that means you have passed 
 the best part of the examination : what is 
 now to come is only form." 
 
 It required no great persuasion to induce 
 Roland to put on the uniform. Pranken 
 helped him. The uniform became him ad- 
 mirably ; he looked both lithe and strong ; 
 he had broad shoulders, and the pliancy of 
 his form did not disguise his manly strength 
 of muscle. 
 
 " Really, I had rather have gone into the 
 navy," said he, " but there doesn't happen 
 to be any." 
 
 Once more, accompanied by Pranken, he 
 went to Manna's room, and cried out, that 
 she ought to see him in his uniform, but 
 Manna returned no answer whatever. 
 
 Pranken now went with Roland to his 
 father, and both conducted him to his moth- 
 er ; she was ravished at his appearance. 
 Roland did not know what to do with him- 
 self from excitement ; he went into the park, 
 he saluted the trees ; he showed his uni- 
 form to the sky and to the plants ; but ' his 
 salutations met with no response. He 
 showed himself to the servants, and they all 
 congratulated him. While he was standing, 
 his left hand upon his sword, near the por- 
 ter, who was saluting him in military fash- 
 ion like a veteran, Eric came up. He did 
 not recognize Roland at first, and seemed 
 to wake up only when his pupil began to 
 speak. Roland's cheek was glowing with 
 excitement, and he exclaimed in a loud 
 voice : — 
 
 " Ah, if I were only able to tell you all, 
 Eric ! I feel as if I were intoxicated, and 
 metamorphosed. Tell me, am I awake or 
 dreaming? Ah, Eric, I can't .say anything 
 more now." 
 
 Roland went with Eric to his room, and 
 questioned him eagerly whether he had 
 not also been as happy the first time he had 
 put on his uniform. 
 
 Eric could not give him an answer ; he 
 tried to remember how he felt the first time 
 he had donned his uniform, but he recol- 
 lected much better how he felt the last time 
 he had doffed it. A remembrance did come 
 to him, however, a long forgotten remem- 
 brance. The Doctor had once said that 
 Roland never took any pleasure in a new 
 suit, but now he was in raptures over the 
 gay-colored soldier's coat ; all ideals seemed 
 to have disappeared, or at least to have 
 concentrated in this coat. Eric gazed at 
 him sadly ; he came near saying that the 
 two most beautiful moments in the soldier's 
 life were, when he put on the uniform, and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 395 
 
 when he took it off forever. But he could 
 not now make this reply, for there are 
 things which every one must experience for 
 himself, and cannot learn from others ; and 
 what would anything amount to on this 
 present occasion ? 
 
 Joseph came and said that Eric must re- 
 pair to Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 
 With the ground reeling under him, with 
 everything swimming before his eyes, like 
 one in a dream, Eric went across the court 
 and up the steps ; he stood in the ante- 
 chamber. Now is the decisive moment. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 RESERVATIONS. 
 
 Eric entered ; he did not venture to look 
 at Sonnenkamp ; he dreaded every word he 
 might have to say to him ; for every thought 
 that Sonnenkamp expressed to him, every- 
 thing which his thoughts had touched on, 
 seemed to him polluted. But now as he 
 fixed his gaze upon him, Sonnenkainp 
 seemed to be transformed, as if he had by 
 some charm contracted his powerful frame. 
 He looked so modest, so humble, so child- 
 like, smiling there before him. He in- 
 formed Eric, in a quiet tone, that the Prince 
 had seen fit in his graciousness to invest 
 him with a title of nobility, and was soon to 
 deliver him the patent confirming it with 
 his own hand. 
 
 Eric breathed with still greater difficulty, 
 and could not utter a word. 
 
 "You are surprised?" asked Sonnen- 
 kamp. "I know the Jewish banker has 
 been refused, — and I even think — the 
 gentlemen are very shrewd — I even think 
 — however, it doesn't make any difference; 
 every one works his own way. I know also 
 that a certain Doctor Fritz has been at the 
 philanthropist Weidmann's, and that he has 
 spoken a good deal of slander about a man 
 whom I unfortunately resemble — isn't it 
 so ? I see it in your countenance. I hope, 
 however, that you will not — no, be quite 
 at ease, my dear, good friend ; rejoice with 
 me and for our Roland." 
 
 Eric looked up now freely. There is cer- 
 tainly some mistake here, lor the man could 
 not be so composed, if he had anything to 
 dread. 
 
 Sonnenkamp continued : — 
 
 "You will remain our friends, you and 
 your noble mother." 
 
 He held out his hand ; now again Eric 
 shuddered all over. The ring on his 
 thumb — is that too a mystery, a deception ? 
 Sonnenkamp could not but feel that there 
 was something wrong ; he suddenly drew 
 back the outstretched hand, as if a wild 
 
 beast had extended its claw towards it, but 
 said with great composure : — 
 
 "I know you are an oppqser of election 
 to the nobility." 
 
 " No ; more than that, I wanted to say 
 something, " interposed Eric ; but Sonnen- 
 kamp interrupted him hastily. 
 
 " Excuse me if I do not wish to hear any 
 more." 
 
 Suddenly shifting the conversation, he 
 continued in an earnest tone, saying that 
 Eric had now only the finishing stroke to 
 put to his work, by guiding and fortifying 
 Roland into a true appreciation of his new 
 position and his new name. 
 
 " It would be a fine thing if you should 
 take the Professorship ; I would then let 
 Roland, until we ourselves moved into town, 
 and perhaps even then, occupy the same 
 residence with you ; you would remain his 
 friend and instructor, and everything would 
 go on excellently." 
 
 With great frankness, he added, that he 
 desired, since he, as a father, was not in 
 the position to see to it himself, that Ro- 
 land should be wisely and discreetly led to 
 a personal knowledge of that thing which 
 men call vice ; this alone would preserve 
 him from excess. 
 
 Eric remained silent ; he had come with 
 warnings, and full of anxiety ; now the 
 whole affair was ended, now nothing re- 
 mained to be done; yes, through Sonnen- 
 kamp's own acknowledgment that he was 
 mistaken for Herr Ban field, every objection 
 seemed to be put at rest. For the sake of 
 saying something, Eric asked where the 
 Major was. With great satisfaction, Son- 
 nenkamp replied that the building of the 
 castle had fortunately so far progressed, 
 that they would be able on their return from 
 the capital to open it ; the Major had just 
 gone to the castle to make the necessary 
 arrangements. 
 
 " Have you seen your mother yet? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " She has, I am sorry to say, sent word 
 to me that she is a little unwell, and will 
 not be able to partake in our rejoicing." 
 
 Eric hastened to his mother. He had 
 never yet seen her ill ; now she lay ex- 
 hausted on the sofa, and was delighted at 
 his returning so immediately upon the re- 
 ception of her letter. Eric knew nothing 
 of any letter, and heard now, also for the 
 first time, that Sonnenkamp had sent a 
 messenger, to whom his mother had also 
 given a letter. 
 
 His mother, who was feverish, said that 
 she felt as if a severe sickness was threat- 
 ening her ; it seemed to her as if the house 
 in which she was, was floating on the waves 
 
396 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 nearer and nearer to the sea ; she had to 
 foree herself to keep awake, for as soon as 
 she closed her eyes, this sensation returned 
 to her more frightful than ever. She sat 
 up and said : — 
 
 " Now you have come back, everything 
 will be well once more. I felt timid alone 
 here in this perverse world. 1 ' 
 
 Eric felt that it was impossible to tell 
 his mother anything of what he had learned 
 at Weidmannes. 
 
 His mother complained : — 
 
 "Ah, I wish it may not be with you äs 
 it is with me ; the older I become, the more 
 mysterious and complicated are many 
 things to me. You men are fortunate ; in- 
 dividual things do not vex you so much, 
 because you can see a united whole." 
 
 As the mother gazed confusedly about 
 her she looked upon her son, and her eye 
 sank ; she would willingly have imparted 
 her trouble to him ; but why burden him 
 when he could do no good ? She kept it to 
 herself. 
 
 Eric told her of the interesting life he 
 had seen at Mattenheim, and how fortunate 
 he had been in gaining there a fatherly 
 
 friend. In the way in which he described 
 the energetic activity of the family, it 
 seemed as if he were bringing a fresh 
 breeze into the room ; and the mother 
 said : — 
 
 "Yes, we forget in our troubles that 
 there are still beautiful, harmonious exist- 
 ences in the world for a maiden like Manna." 
 And just as she mentioned her name, a 
 messenger from Manna came with the re- 
 quest, that the Professorin would come to 
 her. 
 
 Eric wanted to say to the messenger in 
 reply, that his mother was unwell, and to 
 ask Fräulein Manna therefore to have the 
 goodness to come to her ; but his mother 
 sat erect, and'said : — 
 
 " No, she requires my assistance ; I must 
 be well, and I am well. It is best that my 
 duty saves me from yielding to this weak- 
 ness." 
 
 She got up quickly, and said to the mes- 
 senger : — 
 
 " I will come." 
 
 She dressed hurriedly, and went with her 
 son to the villa. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 397 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 HERO ROLAND'S MOTTO. 
 
 The Professor's wife announced herself 
 at Manna's door ; Manna opened it. With 
 a bloodless countenance, she stood before 
 the Mother and languidly held out her hand. 
 
 " I have wrestled with myself all alone," 
 she said ; " I cannot find the outlet ; I must 
 tell you all." 
 
 And now Manna related how she had 
 grown up in most reverent respect for her 
 father, and how she had often painfully la- 
 mented that her mother was so harsh and 
 cold to him ; but once — she had never 
 learned what had transpired previously — 
 her mother had said in the presence of her 
 father : — 
 
 " ' Know then who your father is, who 
 your father is. 1 Don't look at me, I beg of 
 you ; I beg you, let me speak it softly in 
 your ear." 
 
 She whispered the words softly in the ear 
 of the Professorin. The latter sat there 
 and held her hands in her lap, and shut her 
 eyes ; not a sound was heard in the room : 
 it seemed as if the whole world was dead, 
 and the two human beings that sat there op- 
 posite to each other, dead as well. Manna 
 went on to say that she did not at first 
 understand what this meant, but gradually 
 it had come to her, and she had persuaded 
 her parents to let her go to the convent. 
 On the way thither the thought was contin- 
 ually present to her, how, in old times, 
 Iphigenia had offered herself up as a propi- 
 tiatory sacrifice, and so she longed to oifer 
 herself up a willing and a hopeful victim, to 
 wash away all the guilt of those who were 
 dear to her. 
 
 " I felt then as if something had been cleft 
 within me, as if a vein had burst in my 
 heart. I looked upon myself as a victim 
 on the altar. I had the courage then, I 
 wanted to act decisively before that courage 
 deserted me, for I was afraid of my own 
 cowardice, and for that reason was anxious 
 to bind myself at once." 
 
 Again, after a longer pause — the Profes- 
 sorin did not interrupt with a single word 
 — Manna said that she did not understand 
 what her father was doing, and she, she 
 herself must be made noble, and become 
 Pranken's bride, of equal rank with him. 
 She had honored and esteemed Pranken ; 
 he was a man of the world, but of a pro- 
 foundly generous and religious character. 
 
 Sobbing bitterly, she threw herself upon 
 the mother's neck, and exclaimed : — 
 
 " I cannot ! I cannot be his wife. Ah ! 
 I am too weak. You have told me that I 
 should have to experience trying conflicts, 
 
 but I had never thought, never dreamt of 
 such a thing as this. No; no, indeed." 
 
 " What more? " asked the Mother. 
 
 Manna hid her face in her hands, then 
 threw herself upon the Mother's neck and 
 wept. 
 
 The Mother entreated her to let her know 
 the rest, but Manna remained silent ; finally 
 she uttered the words : — 
 
 "No, I shall take it with me into the 
 grave ; it is mine alone." 
 
 The Professorin spoke words of hope and 
 comfort to her, and asked her whether she 
 had ever mentioned in confession what she 
 now confessed to her. Manna said no, 
 and then threw herself upon her knees be- 
 fore the Mother, and besought her to tell 
 no one what she had related of her. father. 
 But she started up suddenly as if bitten by 
 a serpent, when the Professorin told her 
 that she had known it all a long while, that 
 it had been a heavy burden to her. but that 
 it was the duty of the innocent not to with- 
 draw themselves from one who seeks to ef- 
 face a wretched past. 
 
 A strange agitation swept over Manna's 
 countenance. 
 
 « ' Who else knows it ? Tell me." 
 
 "Why should I, my child P Why do 
 you so torment your soul, and make it 
 wander from house to house, from man to 
 man, crushed, begging, and imploring for- 
 giveness ? " 
 
 "My prayer, my sacrifice is rejected; I 
 am cast out, we are all cast out. No, I am 
 free ; the holy ones in heaven have not 
 been willing to accept my sacrifice. It 
 shall live within my own bosom only, 
 within myself, within my crushed and shat- 
 tered heart. I am free — free." 
 
 " Your laugh makes me feel uneasy," 
 said the Professorin, who was observing 
 closely the play of Manna's features. 
 Manna moaned that her sorrow was seven- 
 fold. 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed, "I have spoken 
 with my brother only once about slavery, 
 and then I felt as if something was whirling 
 around me, when he said, Beings who are 
 admitted to religious life are our equals. 
 He is right ; whoever enters the sanctuary 
 of the knowledge of God is^a free child of 
 God ; and I shuddered when I thought for 
 the first time how it could be possible for a 
 man to be praying in church, and have near 
 by, separated from him only by a railing, 
 men who were slaves. Is not his every 
 word of prayer, is not his offering, a lie? 
 It was a frightful pathway upon which I had 
 entered, and all the powers of evil were 
 pushing me on further and further. How 
 is it then ? how can a priest receive the 
 
398 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 child of a man, how could he receive us 
 into the church, while our lather still " 
 
 As if a weight lay on her heart, Manna 
 placed her hand there, and seemed unable 
 to go on. 
 
 The Professorin consoled her. 
 
 "My child," she said, "do not lay the 
 blame on Religion ; cast no stone at those 
 who cannot accomplish everything, who can- 
 not equalize all the inequalities that have 
 come into the world from sin. The temple 
 is great, pure, and sublime, even though 
 cares, sloth, and base submission have found 
 hiding-places in it." 
 
 From the bottom of her heart, the Profes- 
 sorin sought to keep Manna from losing her 
 hold upon religion ; she spoke with enthu- 
 siasm of those who devote their whole exis- 
 tence to the Most High, who restlessly 
 work and strive, without reward, to fashion 
 the earth into a dwelling-place of love and 
 virtue. 
 
 Manna looked up astonished at the woman 
 who thus, counselled her; her lips parted, 
 but she could not utter the words that lay 
 upon her tongue ; she wanted to ask. " But 
 are you not a Huguenot ? " But she kept 
 back the words, for it seemed to her at this 
 moment as if every difference in form of re- 
 ligious belief had been blotted out ; here 
 was indeed nothing but a heart simple in its 
 purpose, gentle, patient, suffering, and de- 
 voted to good. Now she felt that she had 
 fully and entirely devoted herself to the 
 noble woman ; she Hung herself into her 
 arms ; with tears in her eyes she kissed the 
 Mother's cheeks, forehead, and hands, and 
 asked her to lay her hands upon her head, 
 and save her from dying of grief. 
 
 Silent and locked in each other's arms 
 sat the two women, when a knock was 
 heard at the door. 
 
 Sonnenkamp called out that he must 
 speak with his daughter. 
 
 " You must speak to him," said the Pro- 
 fessorin. 
 
 Manna rose, and pushed back the bolts 
 of the door. 
 
 Sonnenkamp entered. 
 
 " I am glad you are well again," said he 
 in a clear voice to the Professor's wife. 
 
 He did not dream with what eyes the Pro- 
 fessorin and his child regarded him. 
 
 "I thank you," he continued, making 
 a gesture which was intended to signify 
 that he desired to be alone with Manna. 
 
 •Manna perceived it, and she begged — 
 she could not express her agony, but she 
 begged earnestly — that her father would 
 permit the Professorin to be present at the 
 conversation ; she had no secrets from the 
 noble woman. 
 
 Sonnenkamp shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 Was it possible? No, it could not be, 
 his own child could not have betrayed him. 
 
 He now said plainly that he would rather 
 speak with Manna alone. 
 
 The Professorin rose to go, and Sonnen- 
 kamp begged her in a kindly tone to keep 
 his wife company during his absence, and 
 give her all the instruction and advice nec- 
 essary to enable her to enter upon her new 
 sphere of life with becoming repose and 
 dignity. 
 
 The Professorin bowed and left them. 
 
 Manna had to sit down ; she felt as if her 
 limbs would never again support her; Son- 
 nenkamp said to her that she had doubtless 
 long ago forgotten the bitter epithet that 
 her mother had applied to him ; she might 
 now go to her mother, who would assure 
 her, that she had only made use of the 
 words in auger. 
 
 Manna nodded, without saying a word; 
 and then Sonnenkamp spoke of her marriage 
 with Pranken, in regard to which he took a 
 pride in feeling that he had never laid any 
 constraint upon his child. Manna implored 
 him not to press the matter upon her then. 
 
 " Very well, you need not make up your 
 mind till our return, but promise me to be 
 friendly to him." 
 
 Manna could promise this, and Sonnen- 
 kamp smiled inwardly at the thought of his 
 keeping Pranken in suspense until every- 
 thing was finally arranged ; if any insur- 
 mountable difficulty came up then, it could 
 not change what would be already settled. 
 
 "You are' now a Freifraulein," said he 
 impressively and smiling to his child, " you 
 shall be free in everything ; only, to-day, 
 let everything remain still in suspense. 
 I cannot be dishonorable." He really meant, 
 that he did not so much mind deceiving 
 Pranken, but he added that it would 
 be much more proper to consent or to 
 refuse when they had been for a short time, 
 in the full possession of their new rank. 
 And with that, he took leave of his child 
 with friendly words. 
 
 At noon there was great rejoicing at the 
 villa, for the Ensign with a number of his 
 comrades had arrived ; they rode out with 
 Roland, who was treated as one of them- 
 selves. 
 
 In accordance with Pranken's wish, they 
 started that evening for the capital. 
 
 When Roland took leave of Eric's mother, 
 she gave him a paper on which was writ- 
 ten, — 
 
 On the rim of the Hero Roland's helmet 
 was once and is again inscribed, in golden 
 letters, — " The weapons of the whole world 
 must leave me still unstained." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 399 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 DOWN BELOW. 
 
 At the servants 1 table in the basement 
 there was a big gap ; the seat at the head, 
 which belonged to Bertram, was not occu- 
 pied by any one ; Joseph and Lootz were 
 also wanting, for they had gone with the 
 old and the young master to the capital. The 
 men and women at the table were whisper- 
 ing in a low tone ; at last the head gardener 
 said that the affair was no longer a secret ; 
 he maintained that, at the time of the 
 Prince's visit, he had perceived the thing 
 clearly. With a look of modest condescen- 
 sion, that plainly signified his regret at be- 
 ing obliged to exhibit his shrewdness before 
 these people, he let out his words as if such 
 folks could not appreciate what he had to 
 say; Joseph alone, if he had been there, 
 could have bestowed upon him suitable 
 praise. The remaining servants, however, 
 had an ill will against the self-asserting and 
 pretentious head gardener. No one an- 
 swered him. The big cook, who sat down 
 to table very seldom, for she maintained 
 that she ate hardly anything at all, now 
 ventured to take Bertram's place, so that 
 she could get up at any moment. She said 
 that she had served with the nobility her 
 whole life, and now it was going to be so 
 again. Now the thing was out ; and all 
 felt as if a load had been taken off their 
 hearts, since they were at liberty to speak 
 of the matter. The second coachman 
 turned up the skirts of his long waistcoat 
 a little, and contemplated them with a 
 searching look. 
 
 " Now then, buttons with coats-of-arms 
 are coming,*' he said at last; " and our car- 
 riage will be new varnished, and a crest 
 will be put on the coach-door ; no more of 
 the bare, solitary ' S 1 . Let Herr von End- 
 lien's coachman say again that the S looks 
 like an interrogation point, for no one real- 
 ly knows who Herr Sonnenkamp is." 
 
 One of the grooms was glad that on the 
 horse-blankets a five-pointed coronet would 
 stare everybody in the face. 
 
 The laundress complained of the great 
 trouble it would be to mark all the linen 
 anew, and the maid who took care of the 
 silver was glad that she was going to have 
 new spoons and forks, for everything would 
 have to be melted over again and engraved 
 anew. 
 
 " And the collars of the hounds will be 
 renewed,* 1 exclaimed a hoarse voice. 
 
 Everybody laughed at the boy, who had 
 charge of the dogs, who was grinning slyly 
 at the idea of his having said something 
 funny. 
 
 The old kitchen maid, who persisted in. 
 sitting on her stool and holding her plate in 
 her lap, called over to the second cook : — 
 
 "We shall soon have a Frau Lootz. 
 The master will now consent to the mar- 
 riage. 11 
 
 "Has he given you his consent? 11 
 
 " God be praised, I don't need it any 
 more. But now he will remain here for- 
 ever, and never go away any more. . Now 
 you can all marry. 1 ' 
 
 The second gardener, the so-called Squir- 
 rel, declared with unction : — 
 
 '* I should not have said a word, but if I 
 were such a rich man I would never have 
 had myself ennobled ; no, I had rather be 
 the richest commoner all up and down the 
 Rhine, than the newest noble. I wouldn't 
 flatter the nobility so much. If one has 
 money, he is noble enough. 11 
 
 Everybody sneered at the forward fellow, 
 and the head gardener looked at him with a 
 patronizing air, nodding, his features say- 
 ing at the same time, " I would never have 
 given the simpleton credit for such an idea. 11 
 
 They now began to discuss what sort of 
 livery the master would adopt, and whether 
 he would have a " von " before his old name, 
 or whether he would take an entirely new 
 name. Finally the conversation turned upon 
 Prankeifs marriage. The fat cook reminded 
 them that when Eric first came to the house, 
 the old kitchen maid had prophesied that 
 Eric would be the son of the house ; now 
 the reputation she had as a prophetess was 
 gone, for the marriage was a fixed thing, 
 and they were only delaying the announce- 
 ment of it till the Fräulein was ennobled. 
 Old Ursel made a wry face, looked about 
 her and winked, pressed her apron against 
 her mouth, and nodded triumphantly; at 
 length she began to make her explanation ;-p 
 
 " I don't believe yet, that she will marry 
 the light, twisted moustache. Remember 
 what I say. 11 
 
 The laundress told the fat cook in con- 
 fidence, that Joseph, the valet — she had 
 observed it the whole winter through — was 
 making love to the daughter of the landlord 
 of the Victoria. 
 
 The conference in the basement lasted a 
 long while ; it was not broken up until a 
 voice from overhead fell upon their ear 
 with the message, that the horses would 
 have to be harnessed again, night as it was, 
 for- the gracious Fran wished to drive out. 
 
 Where? No one knew. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE FIRST NIGHT OF A BARONESS. 
 
 " Yes, it's all very nice for him, he goes 
 
400 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 off on his pleasure, and leaves me here, 
 alone ! What am I to do now ? " 
 
 Thus Frau Ceres was complaining to 
 Fräulein Perini, when Sonnenkainp, Pran- 
 ken, and Roland were gone. With the hur- 
 ry and restlessness of lever she was walk- 
 ing up and down the room, every now and 
 then asking whether there was nothing to 
 be done, and begging Fraulein Perini to ! 
 tell her what she ought to do. The latter j 
 urged her to be composed, and asked her 
 to sit down by her side, and fill out the 
 ground at the other end of her embroidery. 
 
 " Yes, 1 ' exclaimed Frau Ceres suddenly, 
 " now I have it. 1*11 do something that will 
 please him too ; Til embroider a sola-cush- 
 ion with our coat-of-arms. Besides, I have 
 seen hassocks in the church with coats-of- 
 arms embroidered on them ; well have 
 those too.' 1 ' 
 
 Friiulein Perini nodded. 
 
 " And something else yet ! " said she. 
 
 "Really? Do you know of something 
 else ? " exclaimed Frau Ceres. 
 
 " Yes, it will be something well befitting 
 your pious mind. You have already thought 
 of it, only you have forgotten about it." 
 
 " What ? what have 1 forgotten ? " 
 
 "You intended, when the title was ob- 
 tained, to embroider an altar-cloth at once.' 1 
 
 " Yes, so we will. Did I ever say so ? 
 Ah ! I forget everything. Ah, dear ma- 
 dame, stay with me always, advise me in 
 everything. Have you a large frame ? Let 
 us begin at once." 
 
 Fräulein Perini had everything ready, 
 silk, worsted, gold-thread and silver-thread, 
 frame and patterns. Frau Ceres actually 
 made a few stitches, but then stopped and 
 said : — 
 
 " I am trembling to-day ; but I have com- 
 menced the altar-cloth, and now we will 
 work on at it. You will help me, will you 
 not ? " 
 
 Friiulein Perini assented ; she knew that 
 she would have to do the whole herself, but 
 Frau Ceres had now become somewhat 
 calmer. 
 
 "Will you not send for the Priest, or 
 hadn't we better go and visit him our- 
 selves ? " 
 
 " As you see fit." 
 
 "No, we had better be alone. Where 
 is Manna, I wonder ? She ought to come, 
 she ought to be with her mother." 
 
 She rang and sent lor Manna ; but 're- 
 ceived lor answer, that she had just gone 
 to rest ; she begged her mother to excuse 
 her, she was very tired. 
 
 "But where is the Professorin ? Oughtn't 
 she to come and congratulate me ? " 
 
 "She was with Friiulein Manna, and 
 
 went home again," answered Fraulein Pe- 
 rini. 
 
 " She was in the house, and didn't come 
 to see me? " said Frau Ceres, in an angry 
 tone; " she shall come at once — this very 
 moment. Send for her. I am the Mother, 
 to me is honor first due, then to the daugh- 
 ter. Send lor her, she must come at once." 
 
 Fraulein Perini had to gratify her, but 
 with great caution, she impressed upon 
 Frau Ceres the necessity of being quite com- 
 posed and dignified in her manner toward 
 the learned court-lady, who must not sup- 
 pose that people would have to learn from 
 her, at the outset, how to comport them- 
 selves in elevated positions. 
 
 " You should be rather' quiet in your 
 manner, Frau Baroness." 
 
 "Frau Baroness! Am I to expect that 
 the Professorin will address me so ? " 
 
 " Certainly, she is perfectly well bred." 
 
 Frau Ceres began once more to walk rest- 
 lessly up and down the room. Every once in a 
 while, she would stand still before the large 
 mirror, and make a courtesy before some im- 
 aginary personage. The courtesy was very 
 successful ; she would lay her left hand upon 
 her heart, her right hanging down naturally, 
 and bend very low. On both sides of the 
 mirror four branched candlesticks stood 
 lighted, and once in a while Frau Ceres 
 would put her hand to her brow. 
 
 " He has promised me a five-pointed cor- 
 onet ; it will become me, will it not? " 
 
 With an exceedingly gracious smile she 
 bowed once more before the mirror. 
 
 Friiulein Perini heard outside the arrival 
 of the Professorin.; she went to meet her, 
 and begged her to be very forbearing and 
 circumspect with the much agitated Frau 
 Ceres, and not call her anything but Frau 
 Baroness. 
 
 "Why did you send me word that she 
 was ill, and call me out in the middle of 
 the night on that account ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; you know that there, 
 are sick people who do not go to bed." 
 
 The Professorin understood how matters 
 were. 
 
 When she entered, Frau Ceres, with her 
 face still turned to the mirror, exclaimed : — 
 
 "Ah, that's good! It was gracious in 
 you to' come, my dear Professorin, very 
 friendly — very kind. I am a good friend 
 of yours, too.'" 
 
 She then turned round and held out her 
 hand to the new-coiner. 
 
 The Professorin did not congratulate her, 
 nor did she call her Frau Baroness. 
 
 Frau Ceres now wished to know what 
 her husband — but she corrected herself 
 quickly and said: " I should say the Baron 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 401 
 
 now; well — what has the Baron to do in 
 town ; must he pass a Knight's examination, 
 and will he be knighted before the assem- 
 bled multitude ? " 
 
 The Professorin replied that there was 
 nothing of the kind now, there would be 
 simply a parchment patent delivered to him. 
 
 " Parchment — parchment ?" repeated 
 Frau Ceres several times to herself. " What 
 is parchment? " 
 
 "It is dressed skin, "said the Professorin 
 in explanation. 
 
 "Ah, a scalp — a scalp. I understand. 
 On it — will the patent be written with 
 ink just the same as everything else that 
 they write ? " 
 
 She stared a long while before her, then 
 after first shutting and again opening her 
 eyes, she begged the Professorin to choose 
 one of her finest dresses for herself; angry 
 and astonished, the Professorin rose, but 
 she sat down again hastily, and said that 
 she was sensible of the kindness of Frau 
 Sonnenkamp, but she no longer wore such 
 fine dresses. 
 
 "Frau Sonnenkamp doesn't wear them 
 any more either. Frau Sonnenkamp, Frau 
 Sonnenkamp ! " rejoined Frau Ceres. 
 
 She wished to remind the Professorin 
 that she had not called her Frau Baroness. 
 
 "Have you ever known of the elevation 
 of an American to the ranks of the nobil- 
 ity ? " she asked all at once. 
 
 The Professorin said no. 
 
 When it was now mentioned that Herr 
 Sonnenkamp had received the name of Baron 
 von Lichtenburg from the castle which was 
 rebuilding, Frau Ceres exclaimed : — 
 
 " Ah, that's it ! that's it ! Now I know ! 
 This very evening, this very moment, I will 
 visit the castle — our castle! Then I shall' 
 sleep sound. You shall both accompany 
 me." 
 
 She rang forthwith, and ordered the 
 horses to be harnessed ; both the ladies 
 looked at each other, terror-stricken. What 
 would come of it? Who knows but that 
 on the road she might suddenly become dis- 
 tracted and break out into a fit of insanity ? 
 
 The Professorin had sufficient presence 
 of mind to say to Frau Ceres, that it would 
 be much better to make the visit to the cas- 
 tle the next morning in the daytime ; that 
 if they went there in the night, it would 
 make a great talk in the neighborhood. 
 
 " Why so ? Is there a legend about our 
 castle ? " 
 
 There was indeed such a legend, but the 
 Professorin took care not to tell it to her just 
 then ; she said she was ready to drive for I 
 an hour in the mild night, out on the high j 
 
 road with Frau Ceres ; she was in hopes 
 that it would quiet her. 
 
 And so the three women set out together 
 through the darkness ofthat pleasant night. 
 The Professorin had so arranged matters 
 that there was not only a servant sitting be- 
 side the coachman, but also another on 
 the back seat. She sought to provide 
 against all contingencies. But this precau- 
 tion was not necessary, foV as soon as Frau 
 Ceres was well seated in the carriage, she 
 became very quiet, nay, she began to speak 
 of her childhood. 
 
 She was at an early age left an orphan, 
 the daughter of a captain on one of Son- 
 nenkamp's ships, who had made long and 
 very perilous voyages — yes, very perilous, 
 she repeated more than once. After the 
 death of her parents, Herr Sonnenkamp 
 had taken her under his sole guardianship, 
 and had her brought up by herself under 
 the care of an old female servant, and of 
 one man servant. 
 
 "He didn't let me learn anything, not 
 anything at all," she complained once more ; 
 " he told me, ' It is better for you to 
 remain as you are.' I was not quite fifteen 
 years old when he married me." 
 
 She wept ; but then, a moment after, 
 clapping her hands like a child, she ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 ' ' It's all a story. It was another crea- 
 ture entirely that went through all this, 
 that used to lie in her hammock all day 
 long and dream out there, and now in Eu- 
 rope — but it is just as well, just as well, 
 isn't it?" she said, and reached out her 
 hands affectionately to the Professorin and 
 Fräulein Perini. 
 
 " Do you think," she said, turning to the 
 Professorin mysteriously, "do you think 
 that our noble rank is altogether safe and 
 sure ? " 
 
 " After the decree is issued, everything 
 is secure, but no one can say that anything 
 is certain before it comes to pass ; unfore- 
 seen obstacles may arise at the very last 
 moment." 
 
 " What obstacles ? what do you mean? 
 what? what do you know? Tell me all." 
 
 The Professorin shuddered inwardly. The 
 restlessness and terror, the wilful, over- 
 bearing, and weak nature of Frau Ceres 
 were now for the first time made clear to 
 her ; here was a woman who sought to tor- 
 ment her husband by revealing to her child 
 the father's past life. 
 
 With entreaties and commands Frau 
 Ceres endeavored to get a statement of the 
 possible obstacles, and she was only quieted 
 by the Professorin assuring her that she 
 
402 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 knew of nothing definite. In spite of the \ 
 darkness, Fräulein Perini noticed how pain- 
 fully this untruth fell from the lips of the j 
 Professorin ; in fact she was just able to let 
 it pass her lips, because she felt herself in 
 the situation of the physician who does not 
 venture to tell his fever-stricken patient the 
 bitter truth. 
 
 Frau Ceres lay back in the corner of 
 the carriage ; she went to sleep like a child 
 that has cried itself out with temper. 
 Friiulein Perini earnestly begged the Pro- 
 fessorin to call Frau Ceres 4 Baroness 1 
 when she woke up. She told the coachman 
 to turn back ; they were on their way home 
 to the Villa. 
 
 Frau Ceres was hard to wake ; they put 
 her to bed. She thanked the two ladies 
 sincerely, and smiled pleasantly, when the 
 Professorin said at last, — 
 
 " I hope you'll sleep well, Frau Bar- 
 oness." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 AN EMPTY NEST AND A HOME FOR ALL. 
 
 Toiling hard, and still singing lustily, 
 the bird has built his nest from odds and 
 ends from every quarter ; restless in his 
 task, he has fed his young while starving 
 himself, contenting himself with the growth 
 of the young birds ; and now they have all 
 flown away, the nest is empty and forsaken, 
 — torn to shreds. 
 
 Such was the reflection in Eric's mind, 
 as he stood in the evening by Roland's 
 bedside, and felt his heart trembling with 
 anxiety for the beloved youth. He wan- 
 dered out across the country ; he felt as if 
 he must go to some friend, to some human 
 being, on whose breast he could lay his 
 weary head. 
 
 He would have gone to Clodwig, to the 
 Doctor, to Weidmann, once more ; but they 
 could not change the unchangeable, and 
 who knows but that in another hour he 
 would be needed here ? he must not leave 
 his mother, he must not leave the house, 
 he must not think of himself. 
 
 Thus he roamed about like a wandering 
 spirit through the night. He saw the car- 
 riage with the three ladies in it coming 
 along the road ; he hid himself quickly be- 
 hind a hedge ; he could not understand 
 what it meant; he had recognized his 
 mother, Frau Ceres, and Fraulein Perini. 
 Where are they hurrying to ? Or had he 
 only fancied that he saw them ? He watched 
 a long while, then the carriage returned, 
 and he himself went homeward. He sat 
 for some time on a bench in the field-path, 
 
 opposite the green cottage ; he saw the 
 light go out ; at last he went to the villa. 
 
 At Manna's window, in which Jhere was 
 no light burning, he thought he saw her 
 looking out ; he would like to have called 
 out to her ; but he did not venture to ; he 
 had no right to disturb her in her sad medi- 
 tation. 
 
 It seemed to him as if a white hand was 
 stretched out of the window ; he passed 
 hurriedly by. 
 
 With mute lips he walked up and down 
 his room; it seemed to him so strange not 
 to be talking with Roland as he had done 
 every evening for so long. 
 
 Eric thought that he would seek relief 
 from his own thoughts in some book, but 
 he pushed away the book with the hand 
 he had reached out to take it up. Profes- 
 sor Einsiedel was right, he had cut oil' his 
 soul from the empire of clear ideas ; he 
 cannot easily resume the connection. He 
 had devoted himself to a single human 
 being, and now that he had left him, he 
 was undermined, and without support. 
 And still he said again to himself, If thou 
 hadst not sacrificed thyself for Roland, he 
 would not be so well equipped as he is, 
 and as he will yet prove himself tu be, 
 in dangers and temptations. I wonder 
 whether he is thinking of and yearning for 
 me at this moment as I am for him P Not 
 now ; now the whirlpool of life is laying 
 hold of him ; but moments will come when 
 he will turn towards me, and I will be pre- 
 pared. 
 
 Eric was revolving in his mind what 
 Avould become of himself now ; he could 
 not imagine, but consoled himself with the 
 reflection that each coming day would bring 
 its task with it. 
 
 It occurred to him now, for the first time, 
 that he had in his possession some of the 
 property whieh had been earned in such a 
 way. He was determined not to retain it. 
 Where should he bestow it? To whom 
 could he restore it? He knew not, but 
 there was in his soul a certain fullness of 
 freedom, as he thought, and said aloud to 
 himself, — 
 
 "Thou art poor once again, thou hast 
 again nothing but thvself; but thou hast 
 thyself." 
 
 What fortunes had he not experienced 
 in these rooms ! how his soul, his heart had 
 been swayed to and fro with emotion ! and 
 to-morrow, within a few days, is this house 
 to be forsaken, left far behind, a remem- 
 brance. 
 
 And then ? 
 
 " Come day, come fate, thou shalt find me 
 ready ! 1 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Eric felt utterly forsaken and robbed of 
 his all ; he longed after a being outside 
 of himself, to clasp him in her arms, and 
 say to him: Thou art at home, thou art 
 at home, thou art with me. He trembled 
 when he thought : How would it be if Bella 
 should see me ? And his cheeks began to 
 glow, for he thought to himself thus : No, 
 Manna, thou alone thou shalt never know, 
 'twill be better for thee and for me. And 
 how ? Should I call thee mine, and bear 
 with thee the burden of this horrid wealth ? 
 Wealth ! Thou wouldst not be in my way ; 
 I have pride enough. But no, it shall be 
 put to death before it has time to live ; 
 never shall it cross these lips. 
 
 He held his hand for some time pressed 
 against his mouth. At last, shutting his 
 eyes, he said half aloud : — 
 
 " Good-night, Roland." 
 
 When he woke up — and his first thought 
 was, ' ' How is Roland this morning ? " — he 
 heard the church-bells ringing. He left the 
 house and would have gone to his mother's, 
 but he dreaded meeting her, for the remem- 
 brance of what Weidmann had imparted to 
 him was reviving in his breast, as if he were 
 listening to it now for the first time. He 
 raised his eyes to heaven and said to him- 
 self: O sun, what bringest thou new to- 
 day? 
 
 And wonderful ! In the midst of all his 
 foriornness, in the midst of all his sorrow, 
 there came upon him suddenly, as if he 
 were standing on the threshold of fortune, 
 something unspeakable, something undis- 
 cernible, and, no one could tell whence it 
 was sent. 
 
 The bells were still ringing. There is 
 yet something calling upon men, upon 
 every one, and every one may listen to and 
 follow after it, wherefore not also thou ? 
 He did not like to be wandering about in 
 aimless dissipation of thought. " The walk 
 in the open air, 11 as Knopf had called it. 
 came into his mind. 
 
 He went to the church, and on the way 
 the good Knopfs words haunted him : — 
 " Our life is not simply a walk in the open 
 air." 
 
 He entered the church just as the organ 
 pealed out. Knopf is right, he continued 
 to himself; there are the seats, the candle- 
 sticks, the kneeling-stools, and they are 
 waiting peacefully and quietly for the 
 comers. Who knows what his neighbor 
 cherishes in his heart? But it is a meeting- 
 place where we find each other and we find 
 ourselves. 
 
 Eric sat down quietly behind a pillar. 
 
 As he looked up, he saw Manna kneeling 
 not far from the altar. 
 
 403 
 
 So will she soon kneel when she is mar- 
 ried to Pranken. 
 
 Terrified, as if some one had seized him 
 from behind, Eric looked round ; there was 
 no one there. He would have left the 
 church, but the quiet hour and the quiet 
 service did him good. What further he 
 thought of, he knew not. The . organ 
 sounded, Manna passed him by, he heard 
 the rustle of her dress, he did not stir. 
 The lights on the altar were extinguished, 
 he left the church. 
 
 " Ah, you too were in the church ? n was 
 the question put to him in a woman's voice. 
 
 He looked up astonished ; Fraulein Milch 
 stood before him. He greeted her pleasant- 
 ly, and said he was not aware that she also 
 was a Catholic. 
 
 " I am not one, but there are times when 
 I cannot pray alone, I must go into another 
 house, into one that has been erected to the 
 Most High ; then must I be with my fellow- 
 creatures, who, like me, seek consolation 
 and peace in the Eternal, even if they do 
 call upon him in another way than mine. 
 I do not pray as the others do, but I pray 
 with them." 
 
 She looked confidingly into his counte- 
 nance, as if she meant to say, " Thou canst 
 not be alone either." As Eric did not 
 make any answer, she asked after his 
 mother, and begged him to say to her, that 
 she had not been to visit her because she 
 was afraid of disturbing her ; but that she 
 herself would always be found at home. 
 
 "And you, Captain, must come and see 
 us whenever you feel like it. We have 
 not a great deal to offer, but there is one 
 thing that can always be had at our house, 
 and that is quiet. And you need not even 
 bid good-day when you come, but you can 
 make yourself at home with us, whenever 
 you happen to feel the need." 
 
 She now asked how Eric felt since 
 Roland had left him, and she was the first 
 to whom Eric expressed his great longing 
 for the youth. 
 
 " Roland has become more to me! than 
 my dead brother was !" he exclaimed. 
 
 And just as he was uttering these words 
 in a somewhat loud and trembling voice, 
 Manna passed by ; she had come out of 
 the Priest's house. She greeted both quiet- 
 ly, and pressed her prayer-book tightly to 
 her heart. 
 
 "I would be glad to have her a happy 
 nun, but she will not be a hapjDy nun," said 
 Fraulein Milch. 
 
 "Naturally," said Eric, jokingly ; "she 
 will be Frau von Pranken." 
 
 " Frau von Pranken ! Never." 
 
 " And are you earnest in saying so ? " 
 
404 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Yes, for Herr von Pranken is going to 
 marry the young widow, the daughter of 
 Herr von Endlieh." 
 
 " I dorft understand this. 1 ' 
 
 " Don't forget, Captain, that I have told 
 you so this day. I know a little something 
 about men. I have never had a word 
 from Baron Pranken exeept the question, 
 ' Where is the Major?' He never addressed 
 me myself in any way, and I do not take it 
 ill of him, but still, for all that, I know 
 him." 
 
 Eric's countenance brightened ; he had 
 no reason for putting faith in Fraulein 
 Milch's conjecture, and still he did put 
 faith in it. And now it occurred to him, 
 that he had joyfully anticipated something, 
 he knew not what, to-day ; now he had 
 experienced it. 
 
 lie accompanied Fräulein Milch home. 
 The Major was not in ; he had gone to the 
 castle, for there was still a great deal to be 
 done, to be ready for the solemn opening 
 of the castle which was soon to take place. 
 
 Eric turned back and . went to his 
 mother's. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A GRACIOUS HAND POURS OUT THE WINE. 
 
 Are you, too, down-hearted and medita- 
 tive ?" cried the Doctor, meeting him as he 
 was entering the house. " I find here a 
 whole colony of low-spirited people. What 
 is there then in this whole affair so discour- 
 aging? Herr Sonnenkamp is getting new 
 clothes and a new equipage made. In old 
 times, I still remember them, a commoner 
 did not dare to drive out in a coach and 
 four, or, if he did, the horses had to be put 
 in hempen traces. Well, Herr Sonnenkamp 
 is getting leather traces made. What of 
 that? Frau Ceres is sick, Manna is sick, 
 the Professorin is sick, the Captain looks 
 sick ; Fraulein Perini and your aunt are the 
 only ones in health in the hospital. Effer- 
 vescing powders must be the prescription 
 for everybody to-day." The Doctor brought 
 with him a cheerful tone, which, like a spicy 
 breeze from the mountain forests, was 
 sweeping away the mists. The Mother 
 could not teil why she was so uneasy, Eric 
 could not tell why he was. The Doctor 
 counselled Eric to take shares in the new 
 mine, and keep his knowledge as a jewel 
 for himself. 
 
 They had discovered a new stratum of 
 manganese in the soil of Mauenheim ; his 
 son-in-law had been to see him, and had 
 said a great deal to him about the favorable 
 impression Eric had left behind him in the 
 family there. 
 
 The Doctor took Eric back to the villa 
 with him, and just as they were entering 
 the courtyard there came a telegram to 
 Eric. It was from Herr Sonnenkamp, 'and 
 contained a request that he would let Frau 
 Ceres know that at that very moment he 
 was on his way to court. 
 
 The Doctor undertook the responsibility 
 of holding back this news from Frau Ceres ; 
 she was near enough to delirium without 
 that ; he had ordered her a sleeping po- 
 tion. 
 
 At table appeared Fräulein Perini, Man- 
 na, and Eric. After the first course, Fräu- 
 lein Perini was called to Frau Ceres, and 
 did not come back. 
 
 Manna and Eric were left alone. 
 
 " You were also in the church to-day," 
 said Manna. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I must beg your forgiveness, I have 
 done you wrong." 
 
 " Done me wrong? " 
 
 " Yes, I thought you were without re- 
 ligion." 
 
 " So I am, according to strict opinions." 
 
 Manna said nothing; she laid the bit she 
 was just raising to her mouth down again 
 on her plate. Both sat silent, opposite each 
 other, for a long while ; each was seeking 
 after a safe topic of conversation. 
 
 " You had a younger brother whom you 
 have lost ? I heard you speaking of him 
 to-day," began Manna, blushing up to her 
 temples. 
 
 " Yes, he was of the age of Roland, and 
 this very day I have been wondering why 
 I could not be as much to my dear brother 
 as I have been to our Roland." 
 
 " Do not say have been ; you are still, and 
 will remain so to him. Roland repeated to 
 me an expression of yours: 'Friends 
 who can forsake one another were never 
 friends.' " 
 
 "Certainly, but what comfort is that 
 thought, if one no longer breaks the daily 
 bread of life with another ? I have known, 
 however, that this separation must occur, I 
 have recognized it as necessary ; and still, 
 for the first time, I see how almost con- 
 stantly, for along while, I have thought of 
 nothing, felt nothing, experienced nothing, 
 but that I forthwith connected Roland with 
 it, — living only for him. Now the whole 
 bent of my thoughts must be changed, a 
 new object found, for the old chain is 
 crushed, severed, cast off, and I feel so 
 homeless and forlorn." 
 
 " I understand that perfectly," said Man- 
 na, as Eric paused for a moment. 
 
 She sipped the wine that stood before her. 
 
 Eric continued : — 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 405 
 
 " I have a poetic friend, a peculiar man, 
 who takes everything terribly hard: he is a 
 man, who, with his whole soul, unreservedly 
 and exclusively, forgetful of all else, loves 
 his calling. He complained to me once how 
 empty, lonely and forsaken he seemed to 
 himself, when he had put the finishing 
 stroke to a work which was then about to 
 go forth from him into the wide world, to 
 find its home everywhere, and to remain 
 with him no more. He had devoted all his 
 thought and feeling, night and day, to the 
 creations of his fancy, and now they had 
 wandered across the sea into another world, 
 there, to be no longer his. He could not 
 withdraw his thoughts from them, and yet 
 he could do nothing more for them, for their 
 clearer presentation, for their perfect de- 
 velopment. Yes, my dear Franlein, and 
 these are only creations of the fancy that 
 forsake the man and make him so lonely. 
 How much stronger must the feeling be 
 then, when a living man, who has taken 
 root in our soul, has forsaken us.' 1 
 
 Manna was gazing full at him ; big tears 
 hung on her long eye-lashes, and she saw a 
 dewy lustre in his ; she folded her hands on 
 the table, and quietly looked into Eric's 
 countenance. 
 
 He felt this look, and said confusedly : — 
 
 " Forgive my egotism in speaking only 
 of myself. I would not put any further 
 burden upon the sister, and I can straight- 
 way give you the consolation which I have 
 found for myself, and which will serve for 
 you too. We have.no right t,o give our 
 soul one exclusive interest, and in that way 
 lose sight of all the world beside ; our soui 
 must be satisfied to feel that there are other 
 things in the world, of which account must 
 be taken. Only, in the sense of desertion, 
 while this inevitable wound still bleeds, one 
 can do nothing else than wait quietly, and 
 compose one"s self in the thought of the full- 
 ness of the powers of the world, and the full- 
 ness of the duties and joys which lie in our 
 fitness to use those powers. Ah. my dear 
 Fräulein," he said, interrupting himself, 
 "my mother likes to tell of an old parson, 
 who cried out to his congregation : — 'Chil- 
 dren, I preach not for you alone, I preach 
 also for myself ; I have need of it. 1 11 
 
 A smile flitted across Manna's counte- 
 nance, and Eric smiled too. 
 
 '•Yes, so it is!" he continued, "it is 
 not to the isolated, to the wandering, to 
 the changeable, but to the Everlasting, we 
 should devote our service ; to the Spirit 
 abiding in the universal, that we should be 
 submissive, until he calls us to another post. 
 Whither? Wherefore? Who can say? 
 We experience the death of sweet individual 
 
 relations, to enter anew into the grand com- 
 munity of the eternal whole." 
 
 "You are without religion — no; you 
 shall not say that of yourself, you are not 
 irreligious," exclaimed Manna. 
 
 "Many hold me for a laggard, others as 
 cowardly and obsequious, because I believe 
 in God, in a wise consistency and gracious 
 providence, in the events which we meet in 
 the history of mankind in general, and in 
 the course of life of individual men in par- 
 ticular." 
 
 Manna's cheeks were glowing, she un- 
 folded her hands, she stretched forth her 
 hand as if she wished to give it to Eric, 
 but, on its way, it seized the flask and she 
 said : — 
 
 " We are so grave ; and really, am I not 
 a sorry hostess ? " 
 
 She poured out the wine for him, he 
 drank it at a draught, and while he was 
 drinking, his gaze rested on Manna. She 
 knew that he was contemplating her, she 
 cast down her eyes. 
 
 " I must make still another acknowledg- 
 ment to you," she said. She stopped as if 
 waiting for breath, then she continued : — 
 
 "As you were speaking of your being 
 now so sad because you can do nothing 
 more for Roland, it was becoming clearer 
 and clearer to me anew what happiness, 
 what faith I also have lost." 
 
 She closed her eyes, she breathed heavily ; 
 then she opened her eyes once more, and 
 said : — 
 
 " I believed at onetime that one could 
 pray for another, for one absent, a distant 
 one, wherever and whatever he might be ; 
 I believed that one could sacrifice himself 
 for another, and everything would be atoned 
 for. Ah ! now I believe so no more." 
 
 Eric made no answer ; he knew with 
 what a struggle this acknowledgment was 
 wrung from her lips. Silent they sat oppo- 
 site each other, and a thrill went through 
 Eric. Now he knew that Manna loved him, 
 for only to the man she loved could she 
 have confided what she had. A spiritual 
 cloud of joy and of grief seemed around 
 him ; this maiden loved him and he loved 
 her, her with such a dowry from such a 
 father. 
 
 Luckily, a servant entered and told Eric 
 that his mother was expecting him. 
 
 "I will accompany you," said Manna, 
 rising. She went to get her hat. 
 
 Eric was standing in the dining-hall ; the 
 plates and glasses and dishes were dancing 
 before his eyes. Manna returned quickly ; 
 her countenance was more serene than ever ; 
 she was once more the young maiden, she 
 had the clear voice and the brisk movement 
 
406 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 of youthfulness, as she made a gentle bow, 
 and invited Erie to go with ber. They 
 were detained in the entranee hall ; a pack- 
 age for Manna had been received. 
 
 " Ah ! the silk dress from the Moravians," 
 she said. "I suppose you know, Captain, 
 that these people are not of our church, and 
 still they get their support from the church. 
 Or are you a contemner of the Moravians, 
 also ? " 
 
 "'Contemner' is not my word, but I 
 find their conduct .inconsistent. They are 
 constantly preaching simplicity, renuncia- 
 tion of self, contempt of show, and of 
 worldly enjoyments, and they trade in 
 silken goods and Havana cigars ; they rely 
 on the sinfulness of other men just like the 
 mendicant friar who says : ' I will not 
 work and earn money, but of course others 
 should earn money for me to beg.' " 
 
 "Take in the package," said Manna to 
 the servant. 
 
 She walked quietly on with Eric. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 FROM SIBYLLINE BOOKS. 
 
 On the way Manna said : — 
 
 "Do you know that I had an aversion 
 for you, when I came here ? 11 
 
 " Yes indeed, I knew it." 
 
 "And why didn't you try to convert me 
 from it ? " 
 
 Eric was silent, and Manna asked him 
 once more : — 
 
 *' Is it then a matter of so much indiffer- 
 ence to you what people think of you ? " 
 
 " No, but I am a servant of your house, 
 and have no right to seek for any special 
 consideration in your sight." 
 
 " You are very proud." 
 
 " I do not deny it." 
 
 " Don't you know that pride is a fault? " 
 
 " To be sure, when one makes preten- 
 sions and detracts from the worth of others. 
 But I keep my pride for myself alone, or 
 rather, I say with St. S«imon : — 'If I con- 
 sider myself I feel dejected, if I consider 
 my fellow-men I feel proud." 
 
 "You are too clever for me," said 
 Manna, banteringly. 
 
 "I don't like to hear you say so, for 
 those are only empty words. No man is 
 too clever for another, if each one says to 
 himself: ' I have something in my own 
 way too. You should not make use of such 
 expressions. My respect for you rests 
 upon the very fact that I never before 
 heard from you an empty phrase. What 
 you say is not always logically true, but it 
 is true for you." 
 
 " I thank you," said Manna quickly, rest- 
 
 I ing the tips of her fingers upon his hand ; 
 and, as if recollecting herself, she added 
 hastily once more : — 
 
 " I thank you." 
 " "I know not why it is ; I have been deliv- 
 ered from an oppressive melancholy, and I 
 feel as if it was a whole year since I was so 
 sad. We have the good fortune to under- 
 stand each other in the highest thoughts, 
 and thought in the hightest strain admits 
 no measurement of time." 
 
 " Ah yes," rejoined Manna, " in the very 
 midst of all my sorrows the thought has 
 been present to me all day : ' Some- 
 thing is coming that will give you joy.' 
 Now I know what it was. You were the 
 friend and instructor of Roland ; take me 
 instead of him ; be my friend and instructor. 
 Will you ? " 
 
 She stretched out her hand to him, and 
 both gazed at each other with a look of joy. 
 
 "Ah, there sits your mother," cried 
 Manna all at once ; with a swift step she 
 hastened to the Professorin, and kissed her 
 passionately. 
 
 The Professorin was astonished to see 
 her. Is this the same maiden at whose 
 bedside she had sat the evening before, 
 whose chilled hands she had warmed, to 
 whom she had spoken the words of encour- 
 agement ? Youth is an everlasting riddle. 
 
 Manna held her hand to her eyes for 
 some time, and as she opened them once 
 more, she said : — 
 
 " Ah, if I only were the bird up there in 
 the air ! 'J 
 
 The mother made no answer, and Manna 
 continued : — 
 
 " I see everything to-day for the first 
 time ; there is the Rhine, there are the 
 mountains, there the houses, there the 
 men ; a bird of passage, — yes, one that has 
 been hatched in Asia, — is coming towards 
 us, towards you. I am really so sorrowful, 
 so sad ; and still there is something within 
 me singing lustily and singing always ; 
 ' Thou art merry, do not seek to be other- 
 wise.' Ah, mother, it is dreadfully sinful to 
 be as I am." 
 
 " No, my child, you are still a child, and 
 a child, they say, has smiles and tears in 
 the same bag. Rejoice that you are so 
 young; perhaps something of childhood 
 has been repressed in you, and now it is 
 coming out. No one can say when, and no 
 one can say where. We take things too 
 hard altogether; things are not quite so 
 frightful as we women imagine. I am quite 
 cheerful since the Doctor was here. We 
 may become accustomed to look at every- 
 thing in a gloomy way ; then it is well if 
 some one comes and says : ' But just see, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 the world is neither so wicked nor so good 
 as we persuade ourselves* it is, and. things 
 run on either well or ill, and not in their 
 logical course. My blessed husband said 
 that many and many a time.' 1 
 
 Manna* seemed not to have heard what 
 the Mother said ; she exclaimed in a mem- 
 tone : — 
 
 " At this moment we are all ennobled, and 
 still I do not perceive anything of the no- 
 bility in me, and yet one ought to be able 
 to perceive something. 11 
 
 There was an unusually light-hearted 
 tone in everything she said, and she con- 
 tinued : — 
 
 "Tell me now, how did you feel on the 
 day you laid aside your nobility ? " 
 
 " No trace of sorrow ; it only pained me 
 when my lady friends assured me strongly 
 that they would always remain the same to 
 me ; and in this very assurance lay the 
 conviction that it was otherwise, and they 
 were all the time telling me how they had 
 loved me, as if I were no longer living, and 
 indeed to many I was already dead, for to 
 them a human being that has lost the rank 
 of noble, is, as it were, sunk into the realm 
 of the departed spirits.'" 
 
 The Mother and Manna sat trustfully be- 
 side each other ; for a time every sorrow 
 was forgotten, every care, every anxiety. 
 
 Eric had left the Mother and Manna 
 alone ; he was standing near a rose-bush 
 and observing how the rose leaves were 
 falling off, so softly, so quietly, as if plucked 
 by a spirit-hand. He gazed at the leaves 
 on the ground, he knew not his thoughts. 
 Roland, Manna, his mother, the terrible 
 past of Sonnenkamp, all was confusion in 
 his mind ; he believed that he no longer 
 saw the world as it is. If he only had some 
 one to call him to hinjself. He felt how his 
 cheeks were glowing, and how he was trem- 
 bling. 
 
 You love and are beloved by this maiden, 
 by the daughter of this man. 
 
 What is a daughter ? 
 
 Everyone exists for himself alone. 
 
 On the ground floor was his father's li- 
 brary ; the windows were open ; he went in. 
 
 It entered into his mind that there must 
 be something in the manuscripts left by his 
 father that would give him consolation and 
 support ; perhaps the spirit of his father 
 would speak to his joyful and sorrowful 
 perplexity. He began to search amongst 
 the papers ; everything seemed to be ready 
 for his hand that was not wanted. He un- 
 tied a bundle of pieces, the superscription 
 of which bore the title, " Sibylline Books ;" 
 he took up a leaf. 
 
 407 
 
 " That's the thing ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 He was standing with his back leaned 
 against the open window ; he heard his 
 mother advising Manna to adhere right 
 steadfastly and faithfully to her religious 
 convictions. There were, it is true, forms 
 and observances in it which she did not 
 recognize as her own, but there was also in 
 it the indwelling of the Holy Ghost, which 
 alone gives us strength to bear misfortune 
 and sustain joy. 
 
 " Mother, 11 he called out, suddenly turn- 
 ing round. 
 
 The women started. 
 
 "Mother, I bring you something that 
 carries on your idea. 1 ' 
 
 He went out, showed them his father's 
 writing, and said that he would read to 
 them. 
 
 "Ah yes," exclaimed Manna; "it is 
 good and kind of you to bring your father 
 here ; how I would have liked to know him. 
 Do you not believe that he is now looking 
 down upon us ? " 
 
 Eric looked at his mother ; he did not 
 know what answer to give, and the Mother 
 said : — 
 
 "According to the ordinary conception 
 of the word ' looking,' we cannot conceive 
 its being done without eyes. We have no 
 conception how a spirit exists, but there is 
 not a day nor an hour that I do not live in 
 communion with my departed husband ; he 
 has come with me here, he will remain with 
 me wherever I go, till my last breath. But 
 let me see — what is it, Eric ? " 
 
 "It has an odd title," answered the lat- 
 ter; " it treats of these things, which I can- 
 not explain, and which perhaps no one can 
 explain. 11 
 
 " Read, I beg of you," entreated Manna. 
 
 Eric began to read : — 
 
 " Two things there are which stand firm, 
 while the heart of man is kept vacillating 
 between defiance and despondency, haugh- 
 tiness and faint-heartedness ; they are nature 
 and the ideal within us. The church is also 
 a strong-hold of the ideal, firm and secure ; 
 although for me and many like me, it is not 
 the only one. 
 
 " You say, nature does not help us. What 
 help is she to me, when the crushing con- 
 viction of imperfection, of perdition, of 
 guilt comes upon me and takes me captive ? 
 Well, nature does not speak; she simply 
 permits herself to be explained, understood ; 
 she gives back the echo of what we call out 
 to her. The church, on the contrary, 
 speaks to us in our individual griefs, she 
 takes us up into the universal ; that is the 
 great lesson of the expiatory suffering. We 
 
408 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 lay our grief aside when we think of the. 
 great grid* which the greatest of hearts took 
 unto itself. 
 
 " And what is the third ? you ask. 
 
 "A third is, nature and the ideal com- 
 bined, which together elevate and sustain us. 
 
 " What is the third ? We call it art, we can 
 also call it love, heroism. In this view of mine, 
 all philosophy also belongs to art. What 
 the genius of a man has created and fash- 
 ioned out of himself as the evidence of his 
 existence, insight, and will, appears in art 
 as visible forms, looks down upon us in mar- 
 ble and in color, makes it*elf heard by us in 
 word and in melody, allows us to be con- 
 scious and to feel sure that our fractional, 
 half-expressed being has fullness and com- 
 pletion. 
 
 " These are the images, these are the deeds 
 of genius, wrought in consecrated moments. 
 
 "Art does not console sorrow, it does not 
 heal directly, but it brings before the eyes, 
 it sounds in the ear, saying, ' Attend ! there 
 is a life, pure and perfect, that we carry 
 within us. Art is an image of strength, of 
 joy, of content, of courage ; it does not 
 reach out its hand to us, it simply enables 
 us to compose ourselves in the knowledge, 
 in the consciousness, in the perception of 
 an existence reposing in itself outside of 
 us ; this we comprehend." 
 
 Eric interrupted himself, saying : — 
 
 "Here the remark is made: 'I knew a 
 woman once, who would neither make nor 
 listen to music during her period of mourn- 
 ing, showing what art was to her.' " 
 
 A pause followed. 
 
 Eric continued his reading : — 
 
 " In the hours of deepest tribulation I 
 have found consolation, peace, restoration, 
 solely in wandering among ancient works of 
 art ; others may derive the same benefit from 
 music that I have from viewing these forms 
 of antiquity. It was not the thought of the 
 grand world which had here become bronze 
 and marble ; it was not the remembrance 
 of the soul speaking out of these forms that 
 held me fast, but something far different 
 from either. Behold here, they seemed to 
 say to me, a blissful repose, which has 
 nothing in common with thee, and yet is 
 with thee. A breath of the Eternal was 
 wafted over me, a peaceful rest flowed into 
 my troubled heart,, filled my gaze, and 
 calmed my emotions. In listening to music 
 I'cou4d always dwell dreamily upon my 
 own life and thought, but never here. 
 
 " If I were only able to unfold whither this 
 led me, how I wandered in the infinite, and 
 then how I went abroad into the tumultu- 
 
 ous whirl of life, feeling that I was attended 
 by these steadfast, peaceful, godlike forms, 
 that I was " 
 
 Eric broke off abruptly. 
 
 Manna begged : — 
 
 " Do read on." 
 
 " There is nothing further. My beloved 
 father, alas ! left only fragments behind 
 him." 
 
 " This is no fragment, it is complete and 
 perfect. No man could say or write any- 
 thing further," said Manna; " nothing else 
 is needed but to allow it to have its inward 
 work. Ah, I have one request — give me 
 the sheet." 
 
 Eric looked towards his mother, who said 
 that she had never yet parted with a single 
 line of her husband's. 
 
 "But you, my child," she said, "you 
 shall have it. Eric shall copy it for us so 
 that we may not lose it." 
 
 She gave the manuscript to Manna, who 
 pressed it to her heaving breast. 
 
 " Oh, I never imagined," she cried, " that 
 there was such a world in the world." 
 
 Every drop of blood seemed to have re- 
 treated from her face ; she begged the 
 Mother to be allowed to go into the house ; 
 she would like to be alone, she was so 
 weary. 
 
 The Mother accompanied her. Manna 
 reclined upon the sofa, and the curtains were 
 drawn ; she fell asleep with the manuscript 
 in her hand. 
 
 The Mother and Eric sat together, and 
 Eric determined to make use of this first 
 opportunity, when there was no immediate 
 duty bindmg him, to publish the incomplete 
 and fragmentary writings left by his father, 
 as there would be found many to make them 
 into a whole within their own souls. 
 
 He now felt all at once free and full of 
 life ; now there was something for him to do ; 
 and he could fulfil at the same time a pious, 
 filial duty, and his duty as a man. He could 
 make essential additions from his own 
 knowledge, and from his father's verbal 
 statements. 
 
 He went back to the library, and was 
 deeply engaged in the writings, when Man- 
 na entered. 
 
 "You here ?" she said. "I wanted to 
 take one look at the outside of all the books 
 on which your father's eye has rested. I 
 must now go home, but I have to day re- 
 ceived a great deal more than I can tell." 
 
 " May I accompany you ? " 
 
 Manna assented. 
 
 Thev went together across the meadow 
 to the Villa. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 409 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 EVERYTHING IN FLAMES. 
 
 "With lingering step they walked by each 
 other's side, Manna often looking aside to 
 survey the landscape, and yet conscious all 
 the time that Eric was observing her. And 
 then Eric would turn away, still feeling that 
 her eye rested upon him. 
 
 +* You are happy in possessing the thoughts 
 of such a father, 1 ' said Manna, feelingly. 
 
 Eric could make no reply, for the feeling 
 oppressed him, how the poor rich child would 
 be overwhelmed, if she knew what he did 
 concerning her own father ; he had no con- 
 ception that Manna's words were wrung out 
 by this very tribulation. 
 
 " I cannot become the heir of my father's 
 thoughts, 1 ' he said, after an interval. " Each 
 child must live out his own life." 
 
 They continued to walk side by side, and 
 it seemed to them, at every step, that they 
 must stop and hold each other in a loving 
 embrace. 
 
 " Roland and my father are now on their 
 way home," said Manna. 
 
 "And Herr von Pranken also," Eric was 
 about to add, but refrained from doing it. 
 
 Manna perhaps felt that he might think 
 strangely of her omitting to mention Pran- 
 ken's name, and she asked : — 
 
 " Were not you and Baron von Pranken 
 formerly intimate friends ? " 
 
 " We were comrades, never friends." 
 They were silent again ; there were so many 
 things to be spoken of, crowding upon both 
 of them, that they did not seem to know 
 where to begin. 
 
 The evening bell tolled, and Manna saw 
 that Eric did not remove his hat. She 
 trembled. Every thing stood as an obstacle 
 between them ; even the Church separated 
 them from each other. 
 
 Manna wore around her waist, beneath 
 her clothes, a small hempen cord that a nun 
 had given her as a perpetual reminder of 
 her promise to assume in public the hempen 
 girdle. It seemed to her now as if the hid- 
 den cord were suddenly tightened, and then 
 it appeared to have become loosened. With 
 her left hand she grasped tightly a tree by 
 the road-side, and breathed heavily. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Eric. 
 
 "Oh, nothing, and every thing. I thank 
 you for remaining with us. Look there — 
 there above — high over the castle-tower, 
 two falcons are flying. Ah, if one could thus 
 mount aloft, and leave behind and forget all 
 that is beneath ! What was life to me ? A 
 labor, a labor upon our shroud. I wanted 
 to live above the world and do penance, to 
 implore heaven's grace in another's behalf 
 
 — in behalf of another ! Ah, I can do it no 
 longer — no longer." 
 
 She passed her hand over her forehead, 
 and what she said she knew not. She con- 
 tinued walking, and yet she felt as if she 
 would like to remain in the same spot. 
 
 A woman, who was mowing the third crop 
 of grass in the meadow, called out to Man- 
 na, saying that her father had got well, and 
 would help take in the hay to-morrow. 
 
 "I wish I was yonder mower," Manna 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Forgive me," answered Eric, " if I 
 cannot help expressing my surprise at your 
 uttering a wish like that." 
 
 " I, like that ? Why should I not ? " 
 
 " You have to-day shown such clearness of 
 thought, that I cannot comprehend your giv- 
 ing utterance to an expression so common on 
 the lips of thousands. What does it mean, 
 when one says, 1 1 would like to be somebody 
 else"? If you were some one else, you would 
 still not be a different person; and if you 
 retain the consciousness you had before, you 
 would not be some one else. To speak in 
 this way is not only unreasonable, but, as I 
 view it, irreligious." 
 
 Manna stopped, and Eric continued, — 
 
 "We are what we are, not through our 
 own instrumentality, but through an eternal - 
 ordination for which we have no other name 
 but God. We must try to reconcile our- 
 selves to what we are, and to be happy in our 
 condition, whether poor or rich, beautiful or 
 ugly." 
 
 " Well, I will never again indulge or utter 
 so irrational a thought," replied Manna, 
 extending her hand to Eric. She trembled. 
 
 They walked along in silence. It began 
 to be dusk in the shaded paths ; neither of 
 them spoke. 
 
 " I see my mother yonder," said Manna, 
 sighing deeply as she stopped. 
 
 Did she not want to meet her mother 
 while walking with Eric? She had often 
 walked with him, and he seemed like a 
 brother ; there was no harm in being alone 
 with him. 
 
 " I bid you farewell here," Manna added 
 in a low tone. "What a day this has 
 been ! Has it been only a day ? 11 
 
 "And as this sun now going down," in- 
 terposed Eric, "will again return, and be 
 the same in good days and in evil days, so 
 you have a true friend in me, one whose 
 eye watches over you, and will watch over 
 you until it shall be closed by death." 
 
 " I know it ! I know it ! " cried Manna. 
 "O God, I'm sure of it! " 
 
 She trembled violently. 
 
 " I entreat you, go now," she added. 
 
 Eric turned away, but looking back, he 
 
410 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 saw that Manna was kneeling at the foot of 
 a large fir-tree, while the descending sun 
 shone upon her countenance, as she 
 stretched her folded hands up towards 
 heaven. Then she rose up ; he hastened 
 to meet her as she came towards him, and 
 they were enfolded in each other's arms. 
 
 "Heaven and earth, do what ye will ! " 
 she cried. " Now come what will ! " 
 
 They held each other in a close embrace, 
 as if they had but one breath, and were 
 eternally joined in one kiss. 
 
 " You are mine ! mine ! my father, my 
 hope, my world ! Oh, Eric, leave me not 
 again, — never again ! " 
 
 " I leave you ? " 
 
 "No, you cannot. Heaven will forgive, 
 — no, will bless. See, Eric ! Everything 
 is on fire, the trees, the grass, the Rhine, 
 the mountains, the sky, everything is on 
 fire ! Ah, Eric, if the whole earth were in 
 flames, I would hold thee in my arms, and 
 in thine arms would I gladly die. Take 
 me, kill me, do with me what you will, I 
 can't do otherwise." 
 
 "Come, look up. Is it indeed you ? " 
 replied Eric. " You know not how I have 
 struggled. Now you are here, now you are 
 mine! You are mine, you call me thine. 
 Oh, call me so once more." 
 
 In trembling accents, now beginning and 
 now breaking off again, they related to each 
 other thejr struggles with themselves and 
 with the world around them, and they re- 
 cognized each other's purity and truthful- 
 ness of soul ; and in proportion as Manna 
 had hitherto closed her heart to Eric, the 
 whole fountain of her love now welled up 
 and overflowed. 
 
 As they stood with hands clasped, Eric 
 said, — 
 
 " O Manna, how I wish you could be so 
 happy as to see your own look." 
 
 " And you yours. Everyone who sees 
 and knows you must love you. How then 
 can I help it, who see and know you as no- 
 body else can ? " 
 
 They kissed each other with closed eyes, 
 and over them the trees rustled in the gen- 
 tle breeze of evening. 
 
 On that bench where he had once sat 
 with Bella, Eric now sat by Manna's side, 
 and a thrill passed through him as he 
 thought of that time. He shrank from the 
 recollection. With love's penetrating glance 
 Manna noticed the passing emotion, .and 
 asked : — 
 
 " Have you too had to wrestle and 
 struggle so sorely, before you saw and 
 acknowledged that it must be ? " 
 
 " Ah, let us not recall it; care and trou- 
 ble, conflict and struggle, will be sure to 
 
 come. Now is the marriage of our spirits ; 
 there must be no other thought, no dis- 
 cordant tone. We are blessed, twice 
 blessed. I know that you are mine as I 
 am yours. It must be so." 
 
 They embraced; and as she cried, " O, 
 Eric, I could bear you in my arms over all 
 the mountains ! " He saw subdued in her a 
 wild, lawless, passionate strength of nature, 
 such as a daughter of Sonnenkamp must 
 inherit. 
 
 No one who had seen the modest, hum- 
 ble, gentle child of the morning could have 
 believed that she could become so im- 
 passioned. Eric felt himself taken posses- 
 sion of by a stronger power. 
 
 " Ah, yes," she exclaimed, as if she read 
 his soul. "You think I am a passionate 
 child, do you not? You've no idea how 
 untamed I am ; but you shall never see it 
 again, never, rely upon that." She sat by 
 his side, stroking his hand, and with an 
 arch glance she said : — 
 
 "Ah, dear Eric, you don't know what a 
 foolish child I am, and you are so learned 
 and wise» Now tell me truly without any 
 reserve — you can tell me what you please, 
 for I am yours now — tell me truly, do you 
 honestly believe that I am worthy of you ? 
 I am so ignorant and insignificant compared 
 with you ! " 
 
 "Ignorant and insignificant? You can 
 freely, fearlessly, and without any qualifica- 
 tion, match yourself with any one else in 
 sincere aspiration, in pure self-devotion, 
 and indisinteresteu affection. No one can 
 surpass you here ; everything else is of 
 no account. Knowledge, beauty, wealth, 
 — these do not bring love." 
 
 " And I will learn a great deal from 
 you," said Manna, gently caressing and 
 kissing his hands. " Ah, keep on talking; 
 say what you will; it is music to me, you 
 cannot think how like music it is to hear 
 you. And do you know that I have heard 
 you sing too ? Twice. Once in the great 
 festival, and once here on the Rhine." 
 
 " And do you know," he replied, " that I 
 saw you in the twilight at the convent ? " 
 
 " Yes. You looked at me in this way.* 1 
 She tried to imitate his look. 
 
 "And at that time, when we returned 
 from the festival, a dozen of the pupils 
 were in love with you ; but I was afraid of 
 you, and yet I cannot now imagine it. 
 What will they say in the convent ? They 
 will look upon me as a hypocrite in regard 
 to you, and — oh, Eric, how much I re- 
 nounce, but I renounce it willingly. And 
 oh, how rejoiced Roland will be ! " 
 
 " But your parents ? " 
 
 "Yes, my parents!" said she. "My 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 411 
 
 parents ! " Her voice became -fainter, her 
 countenance turned suddenly pale, and she 
 drew closer to Eric, as if she were cold. 
 He put his hand upon her head, and played 
 with her tresses, while she held his other 
 hand closely pressed to her lips. No words 
 were needed, they could not speak, for 
 each wanted to say to the other : Do you 
 know what I would say ? 
 
 " Why do you tremble so, all at once ? " 
 asked Manna. 
 
 " Ah, I wish you were not rich. 1 ' 
 
 " I wish so too," said she, in a drowsy 
 tone. "Let us be quiet. So — let me 
 sleep here only half a minute. Oh, how like 
 music is the beating of your heart ! " 
 
 She reclined her head for a few moments 
 against his breast, and then said : — 
 
 " A hundred years have passed over me, 
 a blissful hundred years. Now I am strong 
 and fresh and wide-awake ; now forget all 
 I have done and said, all except one thing, 
 that I am yours, and I love you so long as 
 I breathe, and you are mine." 
 
 " You wanted to become a nun, and I — 
 I wanted also to renounce the would." 
 
 " But are you not a Huguenot? " 
 
 " I did not .mean that, my Manna. I 
 wanted to renounce what is called the world, 
 and be wholly devoted to a life of thought." 
 
 4 ' And ean you not do that if I am yours ? " 
 
 "No. But why speak of this now? I 
 am no longer alone, 1 am mvself and vou 
 too ! " 
 
 "'And I too am you as well as myself," 
 repeated Manna. " Now I must go to my 
 mother," she said, raising herself up; "no 
 one is to know about us, neither your 
 mother nor mine, no one." 
 
 " Shall I see you this evening in the gar- 
 den ? " 
 
 " No, it will be better not to see each 
 other until to-morrow ; I cannot — I must 
 first compose myself. Ah, I deny myself. 
 Early to-morrow morning." 
 
 She now untied a blue silk scarf that she 
 wore around her neck, and placed it about 
 his. 
 
 Another kiss, and still another, and they 
 parted. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 REJOICE IN YOUR LIFE. 
 
 Eric sat a long time on the bench ; night 
 came on, a'nd he saw a light in his mother's 
 house. He knew that she and his aunt were 
 together, and he fancied that he heard the 
 tones of a harp, but yet it was too far off 
 for the sound to reach him. But the tones 
 resounded within him, and the . question 
 darted through his mind : How will Manna 
 
 bear it when she learns tjie terrible secret ? 
 And canst thou share in possessions so 
 acquired ? How Sonnenkamp will rave ! 
 What will Pranken do ? The world will say, 
 it was nicely contrived ; while the father 
 and the betrothed were absent, he has with 
 his mother's help stolen away the daughter 
 of the house. Let the world come on! 
 Love conquers everything ! 
 
 He saw a light in Manna's room, and 
 heard the window shut ; he looked for a 
 long time up to it, and then went to the 
 courtyard and ordered the groom to saddle 
 a horse. 
 
 The groom said there was none there ex- 
 cept Herr Sonnenkamp's black steed. 
 " Saddle him then." 
 
 " I dare not do it. My master allows no 
 one to ride him." 
 
 " Do as I order you." 
 
 The horse was led out ; he opened his 
 large eyes on Eric, distended his nostrils, 
 and tossed back his mane as he neighed. 
 
 " That's well ! " exclaimed Eric. 
 
 He mounted and rode off at a tearing trot. 
 He felt perfectly safe on the horse, who 
 seemed to take delight in his free rider. 
 
 Where will he go ? Far away — away 
 to the world's end. He felt buoyant, as if 
 the weight of the body were removed, and 
 he could fly away into the wide, wide world. 
 
 He rode now down the mountain to the 
 village where Claus lived. All that he had 
 experienced on this road, and all that he 
 had thought, thronged in upon his mind at 
 once, and he even looked to see if Roland 
 were riding by his side. 
 
 Roland ! How strange ! It struck him 
 as an immeasurably long time since Roland 
 had left him ; it was the recollection of a 
 far-off event, that he once had instructed a 
 youth on the verge of manhood. 
 
 He gazed at the fields, at the vineyards, 
 as if he must ask them : How is it, how will 
 it be when I call you mine — a bit of the 
 world my own ! Trees, meadows, vine- 
 hills, fields and vineyards xlanced before his 
 eyes. 
 
 He rode into the village. 
 
 Here all was quiet. He drew up at the 
 fieldguard's house, he knew not for what 
 reason. The blackbird was singing alone 
 in the still night, ' Rejoice in your life/ 
 She got no farther on in the tune, and this 
 melody, so old and yet so good, now accom- 
 panied Eric, and chimed in with the hoof- 
 beats of his swift steed. 
 
 From the village he made a bend, and 
 rode up the height where he had formerly 
 sat with Knopf. He had asked Knopf: 
 What would you do if you should come into 
 the possession of millions ? And now it 
 
412 
 
 THE COUNTRY -HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 seemed to him that.a hundred-pound weight 
 lay upon his shoulders. He ealled out into 
 the night : — 
 
 44 No, I shall not become the possessor of 
 millions, no, never ! " 
 
 Now Weidmann's plans rushed into his 
 mind. Above, on the height yonder, hun- 
 dreds of men were living on their own acres, 
 which once they had never thought of own- 
 ing, free and happy in the independence se- 
 cured through that man. 
 
 The horse looked round at his rider, as 
 he exclaimed aloud : — 
 
 "That would be the thing? But on 
 property so obtained ? No ! " 
 
 Quietly he rode down the mountain, and 
 came in sight of the villa, and the glass of 
 the hot-houses, but he turned his horse's 
 head again. Yes, he must tell one man, 
 one only. He rode to the Major's. Like 
 a wanderer who sees a distant gleam of 
 light, he was glad at heart when he saw the 
 light twinkling in the modest house. 
 
 The Major, who had heard the clattering 
 of hoofs — and he knew the black horse's 
 trot — called out of the window : — 
 
 "Herr Baron von Lichtenburg, are you 
 here so soon ? 11 
 
 "Up to this time my name has been 
 Eric Dournay," replied the horseman. He 
 dismounted, tied the horse to the garden- 
 fence, entered the house, and was wel- 
 comed cordiallv by both of the inmates. 
 
 " What's to 'pay ? Is all well?" asked 
 the Major. 
 
 Eric relieved the anxiety of the Major, 
 who kept saying : — 
 
 "Just see, Fräulein Milch, — don't be 
 afraid to put on your spectacles, — just see ! 
 our Herr Eric looks like another being. 
 You're in a fever ; how red your lips are ! " 
 
 Eric could not reply ; he could not say 
 that they were still burning with kisses. 
 
 The Major went to a cupboard, and mix- 
 ing a powder in half a glass of water, re- 
 turned to Eric. Putting his hand on Eric's 
 forehead he said, — 
 
 " You had better take something." He 
 then shook into it another powder, so that 
 it effervesced, and Eric had to drink the 
 hissing draught, without another word. The 
 Major made the sage remark that there was 
 nothing in the world so good for all sorts 
 of excitement as a Rochelle powder. 
 
 Fräulein Milch, who saw very plainly 
 that Eric had something to communicate, 
 was about to leave the room, but he called 
 out, — 
 
 "You are to hear it too, you and my 
 friend here. I entrust it to your true 
 hearts. I am betrothed." 
 
 " To Manna ? " said Fräulein Milch. 
 
 Eric looked amazed, and the Major 
 cried : — 
 
 " God be thanked that she lives in our 
 days ; in the past dark ages they would 
 have burnt her for a witch. She knows 
 everything, and sees into the future ; nobody 
 could ever believe it. But here you have 
 it. As we were sitting together, she said : 
 This very evening Eric and Manna have 
 been betrothed. And when I laughed, she 
 said: Don't laugh, I'll go for a bottle of 
 wine. Look, comrade, there it stands ; 
 and she said : They will come here this 
 very evening together. Well, she isn't yet 
 an infallible prophetess, for you've come 
 alone, comrade.- Come here, let me kiss 
 you, my heart's brother." 
 
 He gave him a hearty kiss, and went 
 on : — 
 
 "You have no father, and I, — I'll go 
 with you to the altar when you're married. 
 Give me your hand. And people say, 
 there are no miracles in these days ! Every 
 single day there's a miracle wrought, just 
 exactly as much as in the good old times ; 
 only we l%now how to explain it to-day, and 
 in old times they didn't understand it." 
 
 Fräulein Milch had uncorked the bottle 
 and filled the glasses. 
 
 " Drink with me, my son ! " cried the 
 Major. "Drink! real Johannisberg." 
 
 They touched glasses, and the Major, 
 emptying his, kissed Eric again, and then 
 said, — 
 
 " Whew ! You've learned to kiss. Give 
 one to Fräulein Milch, too, — you've my 
 permission. Fräulein Milch, no flinching ! 
 Come here — there — give her a kiss. 
 She's a friend, — you've not a better in the 
 world except your mother, — and you'll find 
 out she's more than the whole world knows ; 
 you deserve to." 
 
 " I beg, Herr Major," Fräulein Milch 
 interrupted with trepidation. 
 
 " Very well," said the Major, in a sooth- 
 ing tone, " I'll say nothing more. But now 
 a kiss." 
 
 Eric and Fräulein Milch kissed each 
 other, the Fräulein's face turning red as 
 fire. 
 
 They now engaged in a friendly talk 
 together, the Major taking special delight 
 that Pranken would not get the magnificent 
 girl and her millions ; but his chief satis- 
 faction arose from the convent's being cir- 
 cumvented. 
 
 As Eric returned home, late at night, he 
 heard the blackbird still singing : Rejoice 
 in your life ! 
 
 There was no light in Manna's chamber, 
 but Manna was standing at the window. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 413 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE SERPENT IN EDEN. 
 
 As Manna stood at the window, looking 
 out into the darkness, she laid her burning 
 hands upon the window-sill, uttering brief 
 exclamations to herself of hope and desola- 
 tion, of rejoicing and complaint. Only the 
 stars saw her face with its changing expres- 
 sion of rapture and of agony, and her kisses 
 were given to the empty air. She looked up 
 to the well-known stars, and all their glit- 
 tering host seemed but the reflection of 
 Eric's beaming eyes. 
 
 " Why am I alone? Why should I ever 
 be alone again for an instant ? " she asked 
 of the night. 
 
 A feeling of utter loneliness came over 
 her. She thought of the nun whom she 
 had seen the day before at the station, who 
 looked neither to the right or to the left, 
 going from convent to convent, and from 
 one sick-bed to another, and who wanted 
 nothing that the world could give. How 
 would it be if a voice should now say to 
 her : Thou art mine ; turn thy. gaze, put 
 off that disfiguring disguise ; look around ; 
 let others look at thee and greet thee with 
 smiles ; hope, despair, be joyous, bs sad, 
 be not forgetful of all else in subjection 
 to one fond, painful idea ! 
 
 It seemed to Manna as if she were stand- 
 ing upon the verge of a dizzy precipice, 
 now about to be dashed over it, and now 
 drawn back ; she looked round, for she felt 
 as if Eric's arm were actually about her, 
 and lifting her up into the world. Into the 
 world ! What a world ! She passed her. 
 hand over her face, and the hand seemed 
 no longer to be hers. Turning back into 
 the room, she threw herself on her knees. 
 
 " Woe is me ! I love ! 11 she cried. " No ; 
 I thank thee, O God, that thou hast laid 
 this trial upon me. This trial ? no, I can- 
 not help it ! Thou, Thou who art Love it- 
 self, whom a thousand lips name, and whom 
 yet none can comprehend, forgive and help 
 me, help him, and help us all ! May I live 
 in him and in all that is holy and great, all 
 that is beautiful and pure ! Here I lie, 
 slay me — slay me, if it is a sin ! Heim- 
 chen, thou, my sister, a part of my own 
 soul, thou didst flutter a moment in the air, 
 like a blossom fallen from the tree. I, I 
 must, amidst storm and tempest, remain 
 upon the tree of life. O, let the fruit of 
 good deeds ripen in me, O Thou to whom 
 I pray, and -whom he reveres, though he 
 prays not, he whose thought is prayer, 
 whose action is prayer, and whose whole 
 life is prayer." 
 
 She rose up and stood again afrthe win- 
 
 dow, gazing long, in a reverie, up at the 
 starry sky. Out into the night flew some- 
 thing from Manna's window and was caught 
 in the branches of a tree ; it was the girdle 
 which she had taken off. 
 
 As Eric was sitting alone in his room, he 
 heard a gentle rustling, and was startled as 
 if he had seen a ghost. What is that ? He 
 opened the door, and Manna stood before 
 him. They silently embraced, and Manna 
 said : — 
 
 *' 1 come to you ; I am always with you in 
 my thoughts, — in everything. Oh, Eric ! I 
 am so happy, and so miserably wretched. 
 My father — do you know it ? " 
 
 " I kuow everything." 
 
 ** You know, and still love me ? " 
 
 She kneeled down and embraced his feet. 
 He raised her, and seating himself by her 
 side, they talked together of the dreadful 
 secret. 
 
 "Tell me," she asked, " how you have 
 borne it ? " 
 
 "Ask rather, how Roland will bear it ! " 
 
 "Do you think he will hear of it?" 
 
 " Certainly, who knows how soon the 
 world " 
 
 " The world ! the world ! " exclaimed Man- 
 na. "No, no ; the world is good, the world 
 is beautiful. Oh, thanks to the Unsearch- 
 able for giving to me my Eric, my world, 
 my whole world ! " 
 
 Calmly, clearly, and with wonderful in- 
 sight, Manna apprehended everything ; but 
 in the very midst of the recital, she suddenly 
 threw herself upon Eric's breast, and sobbed 
 forth :— 
 
 " Oh ! why must I have this knowledge so 
 young, so early ; why must I experience and 
 overcome all this ? " 
 
 After Eric had calmed and soothed her, 
 she went away. 
 
 An eye had watched, an eye had seen. 
 But they knew not that an eye had watched 
 and an eye had seen. 
 
 In an eye had the morning, on awaken- 
 ing, Manna cried, "lam beloved ! his be- 
 loved ! Is he awake yet, I wonder ? " 
 
 She opened the window. A young star- 
 ling, that was now, even in the autumn, build- 
 ing its nest, found the thin hempen cord on 
 the tree before Manna's window, snapped it 
 up in its bill, and flew away to weave it into 
 the nest. Eric was below in the garden, and 
 Manna called to him : — 
 
 " I'll be down immediately." And in the 
 early dawn they embraced and kissed each 
 other, and spoke words of encouragement 
 to one another, needed for what . must be 
 borne to-day, for to-day her father and 
 Pranken were expected to return. 
 
 They went towards the green cottage 
 
414 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 hand in hand, sat down where they had sat 
 with the Mother on the previous day, and 
 waited for her waking. In the midst of all 
 the joy and all the suffering of a secret love, 
 encompassed by perils, they wanted to learn 
 what had taken place at the capital. They 
 could not anticipate what had really oc- 
 curred. 
 
 Eric let Manna return alone. He told 
 her that he had been at the Major's the 
 evening before, and he wanted to go again, 
 in order to reqiiest him and Fräulein Milch 
 to keep the matter a profound secret. 
 
 As Eric was going along the road, a car- 
 riage came up ; his name was called, and 
 Bella got out. 
 
 "I am rejoiced to meet you alone. Do 
 you know that we never see each" other 
 alone in these days ? But to-day I shall not 
 be with you. Clodwig sends his greeting, 
 and an earnest request that you will visit 
 him at Wolfsgarten. He is lonely ,and you 
 are lonely, and it will be pleasant for you to 
 pass with him these first days of separation, 
 and to stay with us until you have got some- 
 what reconciled to the absence of your dear 
 pupil. Clodwig has grand projects in your 
 behalf. You can go back at once in our 
 carriage to Wolfsgarten, and I shall be here 
 with my sister-in-law until matters are ar- 
 ranged. Where is the dear child ? " 
 
 Eric escorted Bella to the villa, but he 
 could not utter a word. Fortunately, Frau- 
 lein Perini came up, and he could hand 
 Bella over to her. He hastened to Manna 
 and informed her in a few hasty words that 
 Bella had arrived. She looked up, half 
 roguishly, half pitifully, and asked: — 
 
 " Is it true that you once loved her ? " 
 
 " Yes and no. Are you jealous ? " 
 
 " No, for I know that you have never 
 loved, never ; you can never have loved any 
 one but me. Come, Eric, let us now go up 
 to her, hand in hand, and acknowledge at 
 once what we are to each other, and also 
 betöre the world. Let us have no single 
 moment of deception or concealment. I 
 have the courage to confess all, and I am 
 happy to have it to confess. Regard to the 
 world must not deprive us of a moment, of 
 one single moment, in which we can see each 
 other, freely take each other's hand, and 
 appear before the world, as we are in reality, 
 one." 
 
 Eric had great difficulty in bringing Man- 
 na to use foresight and prudence ; he desired 
 her, as the first token of their relation as 
 husband and wife, to conform to his will. 
 Mamia wept, and said peevishly : — 
 " Very well ; I will obey you, but I'll see 
 no one." 
 
 Eric tried every means to induce her to 
 see Bella, but she refused, saying : — 
 
 " Can you, the pure, the good, allow me 
 to be so debased for an hour ? How am I 
 to endure it, how am I to conduct myself, 
 if she salutes me as her sister-in-law ? " 
 
 Eric told her that Bella wanted him to go 
 at once to Wolfsgarten, in order to spend 
 with Clodwig these few days in which he 
 was unsettled. And when he pointed out 
 the abnormal position of a dependant, Man- 
 na tenderly stroked his face, saying : — 
 
 " You good man, you have to serve ; yes, 
 I know now what this is for you, the pure, 
 lofty soul, whom all ought to serve. Ah, 
 how much have you, dear heart, been ob- 
 liged to bear ! But it is well, for otherwise 
 we should not have become acquainted with 
 one another. Come, I shall be able to do 
 it. I will make myself do it.'" 
 
 She went to receive Bella, and she had 
 self-control enough to do it in an unexcep- 
 tionable manner. 
 
 Eric soon went away, and Bella was 
 amazed to see the glance with which Man- 
 na followed him. Manna was desperate, 
 talking much and in an unusually lively way, 
 so that Bella was puzzled afresh. 
 
 The Major was now announced ; he came 
 to congratulate Manna, and he did it in his 
 cordial and clumsy way. 
 
 " Do favor us with congratulations this 
 evening, Herr Major, after my brother has 
 returned. 11 
 
 Manna turned away. 
 
 Bella had seen enough ; it suddenly 
 flashed across her : She loves Eric. But 
 no, that cannot be ! She offered to embrace 
 and kiss Manna, but Manna begged her, 
 with tears, to leave her in quiet to-day. 
 
 Bella stood up erect and looked at Man- 
 na ; it was the Medusa-look, but Manna 
 bore it quietly! Without another word 
 Bella strode out of the house, and left the 
 villa. What she thought, what she medi- 
 tated, who can tell? She herself did not 
 know, and no one at the villa was at all 
 anxious about it. 
 
 After Bella had gone, the Major stepped 
 up to Manna, who was standing motionless, 
 and said : — 
 
 "You have done bravely, child — you've 
 stood fire well — that's good ! You shall 
 have a backer in me, and in Fraulein Milch 
 too ; and if they bother you here in the 
 house, you'll come to us ; be easy, you're 
 not all alone in the world. You'll ask her 
 pardon, you'll find out — don't speak — 
 you've a backer in me — and she told me to 
 come here, she'd go to the Professorin ; she 
 knows where there's need. I only wish 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 415 
 
 when you've been nine and forty years to- 
 gether you may be to one another what we 
 are — you'll know — you'll have your eyes 
 opened. Yery well ! Some people can 
 hold out bravely, she's done so. Very well 
 — I haven't blabbed any thing, — have I 
 blabbed ?" 
 
 Manna smiled amidst her tears at the 
 odd, incomprehensible, and yet affectionate 
 speech of the good Major. ■ 
 
 Whilst Manna and the Major were stand- 
 ing together, Bella went through the park. 
 
 Hate, deadly hate was excited within her, 
 and her eye seemed to be seeking something 
 on which to vent her rage. What can I de- 
 stroy here ? what can I do to make people 
 angry ? Here are pyramids of flowers — 
 if I should throw them all in a heap, if I 
 should nip off the choice plants ? — that 
 would be childish ! She looked round for 
 something in vain. 
 
 She had forced herself to appear friendly, 
 but the constraint was evident. She espec- 
 ially hated Eric and his mother ; there was 
 a different tone all through the neighbor- 
 hood, and she had nothing to do with it ; 
 these people had given it. W T ho are they ? 
 sermonizing pedagogues, — nothing but 
 eternal second-hand traders in sublime 
 thoughts ! And she, Bella, the brilliant, 
 the admired, who could once confer happi- 
 ness by a single word, she stood in the 
 background ! But they must be off, these 
 parasites, and they should be made to feel 
 who they are, and they should know who 
 has found them out, who has demolished 
 them ! 
 
 She thought about Eric, about the Moth- 
 er, about the Aunt, as if looking every- 
 where for some hook by which to grapple 
 them and dash them to pieces. 
 
 She went restlessly to and fro several 
 times between the villa and the green cot- 
 tage, and at last went into the Professorin's. 
 Here she inet Fräulein Milch. 
 
 Stop ! this is just the person ! she shall 
 be the hammer to hit tile others. 
 
 When Bella entered, Fraulein Milch got 
 up, bowed very politely, and was about to 
 g°- ^ 
 
 " Do remain," urged the Professorin. 
 "You are already acquainted with the 
 Countess Wolfsgarten ? " 
 
 " I have the honor." 
 
 Bella looked at the modest person whom 
 she was desiring to demolish, and then 
 said : — 
 
 " Ah, yes, I recollect. The Major's 
 housekeeper, if I do not mistake ? " 
 
 " Fräulein Milch is my friend," inter- 
 posed the Professorin. 
 
 "Your friend? I was not aware of that. 
 You are very kind." 
 
 " Fräulein Milch is my friend, and is my 
 noble assistant in the" work of charity." 
 
 " Ah, yes, you peddle out the money of 
 Herr Sonnenkamp." 
 
 It was uncertain whether this was ad- 
 dressed to both the ladies present, or sole- 
 ly to Fräulein Milch. 
 
 Bella saw how the Professorin's face quiv- 
 ered, and she felt greatly encouraged. 
 Now she had found out the point to begin 
 at. This Professorin had inflicted a wound 
 upon her by means of her son — no, not 
 that, but she had wounded her personally, 
 she had assumed a first part that did not be- 
 long to her. 
 
 And Bella continued : — 
 
 "This wasteful expenditure on the aban- 
 doned, on notorious tipplers, will shortly 
 cease." 
 
 The Professorin now requested Fräulein 
 Milch to leave her ; she had never kissed 
 her yet, but to-day she embraced her affec- 
 tionately and gave her a kiss. She wanted 
 to calm her wounded feelings, to make her 
 some amends, and show the countess how 
 highly she esteemed the person she had so 
 rudely attacked, who appeared so defence- 
 less, or who did not choose to defend her- 
 self. After Fräulein Milch had gone, Bella 
 said, — 
 
 "I cannot conceive how you can be so 
 intimate with this person ; you dishonor 
 thereby all who stand in relations of friend- 
 ship with you." 
 
 " I think that any one whom I esteem, 
 and whom I unite to myself in friendship, 
 is placed by this fact in a position of re- 
 spect, and I have a right to expect that 
 every one will show it." 
 
 "Of course, of course, so long as you 
 are here. But if you leave the vicinity 
 before long " 
 
 " Leave the vicinity?" 
 
 " The work here is now accomplished* 
 and — " 
 
 The Professorin had to sit down. Bella's 
 eyes flashed ; she had attained what she 
 wished ; she had torn off all the tinsel from 
 these people, who were forever making a 
 parade of spirituality, and decking them- 
 selves out with sublime ideas, and now here 
 they were naked and helpless. 
 
 In a very courteous tone she said, — 
 
 "Oh, I assure you, I should be very 
 sorry to anticipate Herr Sonnenkamp's 
 dismissal." 
 
 The calm bearing which the Professorin 
 had been accustomed to maintain in all ex- 
 tremities, now failed her for the first time. 
 
416 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 She had had an extensive observation of 
 life, but never had she seen this, had never 
 regarded it as even possible that there 
 should be such a thing as pure malice, 
 which has no other motive than to be 
 malicious, and derives its joy from the 
 suffering of others. In the feeling that 
 this additional experience must now be 
 hers, and in the endeavour to settle this in 
 her thought and give it lodgment as an 
 actual and accepted truth, she lost all abil- 
 ity to make any resistance. 
 
 'She cast up a glance at Bella that ought 
 to have overcome her, but Bella was re- 
 
 solved not to give way a single hair's 
 breadth ; she must have something to rend 
 in pieces, and as Eric could not be got at, 
 his mother must answer instead. She con- 
 tinued talking for a long time, using very 
 polite phrases, but the Professorin hardly 
 listened, and scarcely noticed when she took 
 her leave. 
 
 Bella rushed triumphantly back to the 
 •villa across the meadow-path, got into the 
 carriage, which was standing ready in the 
 yard,- and returned to Wolfsgarten. 
 
 Her passion for destruction was sated, 
 and she felt relieved, and in good spirits. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 417 
 
 BOOK XII. — CHAPTER I. 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION. 
 
 On the journey to the capital, Sonnen" 
 karap and Pranken were astonished at 
 Roland's fluency and mental activity ; he 
 was the only one who expressed himself 
 freely, for both Sonnenkamp and Pranken 
 could not entirely repress a feeling of 
 anxiety. They appeared to be so confi- 
 dential and open with each other, and yet 
 Sonnenkamp was continually asking him- 
 self: Do you know it? and Pranken, on 
 the other hand : Do you know that I know 
 it? 
 
 But neither of them spoke out. How 
 were they to do it ? Pranken wanted, when 
 the revelation took place, to appear as the 
 innocent, the ignorant, the deluded in- 
 dividual ; he had been imposed upon, he as 
 well as the rest of the world, and more than 
 all, the Prince himself. The Prince had 
 conferred the title of nobility — how was 
 Pranken to do otherwise than confide in 
 the man ! 
 
 Sonnenkamp on the contrary was undeci- 
 ded, and he was glad that Pranken was de- 
 termining everything ; it was no longer a 
 question of will, all was settled and must 
 proceed. 
 
 He looked through the coach-door every 
 now and then, and put out his hand, as if 
 he were going to lay hold of the handle, 
 spring out and flee. What a bold game it 
 was he was trying his hand at ! He was 
 angry with himself that, close upon the last 
 critical moment, he allowed a feeling of 
 apprehension to come over him. He could 
 not help declaring to Pranken that he felt 
 very much excited. Pranken thought this 
 quite natural, for elevation to the nobility 
 is no small affair. And now, in the conver- 
 sation that took place, Sonnenkamp dis- 
 covered the cause of his timidity. Those 
 Huguenots, mother, aunt, and son, with their 
 double-distilled transcendental notions, had 
 brought around him an element of weak- 
 ness ; it would be as well to throw them aside, 
 politely, of course, but they must go their 
 way, like instruments that have done their 
 work, like paid-off workmen. 
 
 In this thought, of casting something from 
 him, there was a sense of power which re- 
 stored him to himself once more. 
 
 It was not merely allowing others to act 
 for him, he was an active agent himself; he 
 let the puppets dance, for all men are 
 puppets to him who knows how to govern 
 them. He looked smilingly over at Pran- 
 ken ; this man, too, was his puppet now. 
 He began to whistle merrily but inaudibly. 
 
 It was late in the evening when they 
 
 reached the capital. Roland went to bed 
 directly. Pranken took his leave, saying 
 that he had to make a necessary call. 
 
 " Don't forget that you are a bride- 
 groom," Sonnenkamp cried out after him 
 with a laugh. 
 
 For the first time in his life was Pranken 
 troubled by such a jest ; it hurt him be- 
 cause it came from Manna's father, and 
 because he was really going on an errand 
 very serious and moral in its nature and 
 object ; he was going to the house of the 
 Dean of the cathedral. 
 
 The house was in the garden behind the 
 cathedral, hidden from the whole world, 
 and amidst a quiet that was never broken 
 by the bustle of the capital. 
 
 Pranken rang, a servant opened the 
 door, and Pranken was not a little as- 
 tonished at hearing himself instantly called 
 by name. The servant was the soldier 
 whom he had employed for some little time 
 as an attendant. He received Pranken's 
 commission to inform him personally the 
 next morning, at the Victoria Hotel, whether 
 the Dean could receive him alone at eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
 Pranken turned away, and he smiled, 
 when, still thinking of his father-in-law's 
 admonition, he stopped before a certain 
 house. He knew it well, the pretty, quiet 
 house that he himself had once furnished, 
 the carpeted stairs, the banisters with 
 their stuffed velvet, and everything so cosy, 
 the bell up-stairs with its single note, the 
 cool ante-chamber full of green plants, the 
 parlor so cheerful, the carpets, and the 
 furniture of the same pattern of silk through- 
 out, a green ground and yellow garland. 
 Pranken liked the national colors even 
 here. In the corner stands an alabaster 
 angel holding in its hand a fresh bunch of 
 flowers every day. Many a time too, the 
 angel has to bear a woman's jaunty hat, and 
 many a time too a man's hat. And then 
 the door-curtains. Who is laughing be- 
 hind them? No, he passes on. 
 
 He stopped at a shop window with large 
 panes of glass ; when uoing to that cosy 
 little house, he had always brought with 
 him from this shop some trifle, some comical 
 little thing — there are many new things of 
 that kind in it now; he enters and pur- 
 chases the very latest. 
 
 The young salesman looks at him inquir- 
 ingly, Pranken nods and says : — 
 
 "You can show me everythifig." 
 
 And then the hidden treasures of the es- 
 tablishment are shown to him ; he does not 
 .take anything, however, but says, that he 
 will nfake a purchase some other time, and 
 goes off with his trifle. 
 
418 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 No, it is only for a jest, for a farewell. 
 He wishes simply to ask little Nelly what 
 people are saying of him ; he is vexed at his 
 being troubled about the matter, and still he 
 is tempted to make the inquiry. 
 
 He is not aware that he has rung — he goes 
 up-stairs — be feels for the key in his poeket 
 — he has quite forgotten that he hasn't one 
 any more. 
 
 The door is opened, the maid looks at 
 him with astonishment. Nobody is in. A 
 lamp of pale red glass is burning in the bal- 
 cony room ; the little alabaster statue is 
 smiling; Pranken has another lamp brought 
 to him ; he will wait. He looks through the 
 rooms, he recognizes the chairs, the sofas, 
 everything is still as he had arranged it. 
 
 A perfume strange to him pervades the 
 room ; it must be the fashion now, — one al- 
 ways falls a little behind the times in the 
 country. 
 
 The clock of the cathedral strikes, the 
 theatre performances must be over. On the 
 table lie photograph albums ; Pranken looks 
 through them, # he searches for his own 
 picture ; it is no longer there, but there are 
 other faces that he does not know. He 
 shuts the albums. 
 
 There is a book lying on the table, too ; 
 flowers culled from the German poets " for 
 women by a woman's hand." Pranken be- 
 gins to read it. They are strange beings, 
 these poets ! He stands up by the fire- 
 place, glowing coals are sparkling in it ; but 
 really there was no-fire-place, and no glowing 
 coals ; for they never burned, but were al- 
 ways piled up in that way ; fire-place and 
 coals were only an elegant ornament of 
 the room. 
 
 The cathedral clock strikes again ; still no 
 one comes. At length Pranken takes out 
 his card, and leaves it on the bouquet which 
 the alabaster statue holds in its hand ; he 
 leaves the place. It is better so. You have 
 acted bravely, as you meant to do — of 
 course. 
 
 He smiled at his virtue. 
 
 Pah ! He would have to laugh and give 
 a little play to his exuberance of spirit again 
 one of these days ; this everlasting morality 
 begins tobe tiresome. But Manna 
 
 All at once Pranken felt a pang shoot 
 through his heart, as if he had inflicted a 
 wound on Manna. 
 
 He shook his head, and laughed outright 
 at the' childishness into which he had fallen. 
 And still he could not shake off an impres- 
 sion, that at that hour something was 
 happening to Manna; he knew not what it 
 was, but the feeling possessed him. 
 
 He went on hurriedly. 
 
 The military club house was still brilliantly 
 
 j lighted, but Pranken passed it by too. He 
 , turned back to the hotel. With great satis- 
 j faction he retired to rest without having 
 again seen Sonnenkamp. He wanted to 
 read a little while in the little book that was 
 quite filled with a piny odor from the twig 
 which lay in it ; the twig was bare, but the 
 falling leaves were preserved like a relic. 
 But he could not endure the words of the 
 'book, he felt a certain awe of it to-night. 
 
 While Pranken was out in the town, 
 Sonnenkamp grew discontented at being 
 alone. He wanted to be with new people, 
 live men, who could divert his thoughts. 
 He sent for the Cabinetsrath. 
 
 The latter came soon, and Sonnenkamp 
 sat down well pleased by his side, and 
 asked what it meant that the Prince had not 
 sent his patent, but chose to give it to him 
 in person. 
 
 With much freedom and sarcasm, the 
 Cabinetsrath ironically expressed his ad- 
 miration of his gracious master, and des- 
 cribed his character. He said that no one 
 could really understand a ruler who wished 
 to rule without advice, particularly in, the 
 exercise of that prerogative which had been 
 allowed to remain in his hands without the 
 interference of the Chamber of Deputies, — 
 the conferring of orders and of nobility. Son- 
 nenkamp heard with astonishment how the 
 Prince designated everything as ' ' mine " ; 
 my manufacturers, my university, my free- 
 mason lodge, my agriculturalists, my Cham- 
 ber of Deputies. The Prince had the best will 
 in the world, but he lived in continual fear 
 of the democrats, communists and liberals, 
 whom he classed toget her ; he was convinc- 
 ed, that every one who did not coincide with 
 the government was a walking barricade from 
 behind which shots might be fired at any 
 moment. He would like to have everything 
 go well with all men, and he had a very line 
 sentiment which a chamberlain had once 
 composed for him, and which he brought 
 out in moments of elevated feeling. If I 
 knew that all men Avould be bettered by it, 
 I would renounce the throne and do away 
 with the civil-list. But as he was sure that 
 all men would not be bettered by it, he 
 could remain as he was, in quiet possession 
 of both. He had two hobbies, the theatre 
 and the welfare of the capital. He liked 
 to have very wealthy people attracted to the 
 capital, so that a good deal of money might 
 be made out of them. And he had done a 
 great thing, he had modified essentially the 
 strict rules of ceremony ; strangers who 
 formerly were, without exception, debarred 
 of the privilege of appearing at court, had 
 access to it now, if they only spent a good 
 deal of money in the city and were present- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 419 
 
 ed by their ambassadors. The Prince does 
 this out of a pure desire for the welfare of 
 his people, for he called all the inhabitants 
 of the capital " my people," even the un- 
 yielding democrats contained in it ; they 
 had unpleasant peculiarities, it is true; but 
 they were still " my people.' 1 
 
 The Prince took a special interest in 
 Sonnenkamp, because he had been told that 
 the latter was intending to build a large 
 palace for his winter-residence in the capital 
 in such a situation that it would be an orna- 
 ment to the castle park, having it front on 
 an avenue which at present led into a new 
 part of the city. The Prince flattered him- 
 self that this would be of great benefit to 
 his people* 
 
 The Cabinetsrath related, besides, that 
 Sonnenkamp's affair had taken a particular- 
 ly decisive turn in consequence of Clodwig's 
 having, in the expression of his opinion, 
 said that, aside from the injudiciousness of 
 creating a new nobility, it appeared doubt- 
 ful to him whether German sovereigns indivi- 
 dually possessed the right to do it. The 
 Prince was beside himself at this remark of 
 the old diplomat, whom he had always re- 
 garded as a concealed democrat ; and so, 
 partly in consequence of Clodwig's bold- 
 ness, Sonnenkamp's affair was decided 
 hastily and without further ado. 
 
 Sonnenkamp heard all this with delight, 
 and the Cabinetsrath cautioned him express- 
 ly to remember that the Prince was really 
 very modest, and not merely modest in 
 words ; he liked to say that he was not a man 
 of genius, and it was very hard to find the 
 best bearing to use towards him. The Prince 
 was offended by the flattery, if any one 
 praised him and combated his opinion of 
 himself, and still it would not do to support 
 him in his modesty. Sonnenkamp was ad- 
 vised to say as little as possible ; he might 
 exaggerate the apprehension he really felt : 
 timidity would rind favor with their gracious 
 master, who was always secretly pleased at 
 inspiring awe. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was quite calm once more. 
 When the Cabinetsrath was gone, he 
 rang, and ordered the newspaper. He read 
 it entirely through, even the advertisements ; 
 this put him upon another course of thought. 
 Again and again he read the official news 
 at the head of the paper, official appoint- 
 ments, military promotions, and grants of 
 pardon ; such things were sprinkled along 
 through the whole year after the grand dis- 
 tribution of orders was over. He was al- 
 ready thinking to himself how it would ap- 
 pear in that part of the paper in the morning, 
 that His Highness had, in his graciousness, 
 seen fit to elevate Herr James Sonnenkamp 
 
 1 and his family, under the title of Baron von 
 j Lichtenburg, to the hereditary dignity of 
 nobles. And, what was more, the news- 
 paper of Professor Crutius must publish it. 
 
 Proud and erect, he strode for a long time 
 up and down the chamber. Then he recol- 
 lected that the Cabinetsrath had informed 
 him that the Prince liked certain ceremonies, 
 and that he would have to make oath with 
 his bare hand. He looked at his hand. 
 How would it be if the Prince asked about 
 the ring on his thumb ? 
 
 "Your Highness, that is an iron ring 
 that I have worn since my eighteenth year," 
 said Sonnenkamp suddenly, as if he were 
 standing in the presence of the Prince. 
 
 But then again, he asked himself why he 
 should expose himself to the question. It 
 might still be possible to take the ring off; 
 the scar could no longer be visible. With 
 burning face he put his hand in water until 
 it was nearly numb, but the ring did not 
 come off. He rang ; Lootz came, and he 
 ordered him to bring ice. He held his hand 
 on the ice, the ring at last loosened about 
 the thumb ; it rubbed hard over the knuckle, 
 but at last came off. Sonnenkamp examined 
 the scar that had been concealed by the ring. 
 Could any one now tell that it had been left 
 by a bite ? 
 
 He was enraged with himself that he had 
 awakened this remembrance to-day. Of 
 what use was it ? 
 
 He rang for Lootz ; he wanted to ask him 
 what he would take the scar on his thumb 
 to be. But when Lootz came he let the ques- 
 tion go, for it might have excited curiosity ; 
 he gave the steward a commission for the 
 morrow, and finally sought rest in sleep. 
 He did not find it for a long while ; for it 
 seemed to him as if a chilly current of air 
 were continually circulating about the bare 
 thumb. When he doubled up his fist he 
 felt it no longer, and so he finally went to 
 sleep with his fist clinched. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 DRILLING UNDER FIRE. 
 
 The sparrows were twittering with one 
 another on the roof, but the hack-drivers 
 were chattering still more busily before the 
 Hotel Victoria,' when, in the morning, Son- 
 nenkamp's horses and double-seated car- 
 riage waited before the porch of the hotel. 
 
 The little hump-backed driver, who al- 
 ways led the talk, now held the first place, 
 and naturally spoke first. He informed his 
 companions that to-day Sonnenkamp was to 
 be made a count, yes, perhaps even a 
 prince, for he had more money than a prince. 
 Unluckily, the first hack was just then 
 
420 
 
 THE .COUNTRY-IIOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 taken by a stranger, and the little driver 
 deeply regretted that he could not be on 
 band when Herr Sonnenkamp was coining 
 out. He recommended the others to give 
 the Count a cheer when he was getting into 
 the carriage. 
 
 But it was a long while before Herr Son- 
 nenkamp came down out of the hotel, for 
 he was walking up and down the spacious 
 hall, clad in black, with white cravat, and 
 with the order on his breast. The Cabin- 
 etsrath was walking by his side ; he said 
 that he could well understand that Herr 
 Sonnenkamp should be very much excited, 
 but that he would be only so much the 
 more easy in mind at noon. Sonnenkamp 
 was all the time biting his lips, and more 
 than once changed color. 
 
 " You are well, are you not?" asked the 
 Cabinetsrath. 
 
 Sonnenkamp said yes ; he could not say 
 that that bare thumb of his was so painful. 
 When he was not looking at the hand, he 
 had a sensation as if the thumb were swell- 
 ing up into a monstrous size, and the pulse- 
 beats in it felt like the blows of a red-hot 
 hammer. 
 
 He examined his hand frequently, and 
 felt comforted when he found that, he was 
 suffering under a delusion. 
 
 Lootz came. Sonnenkamp took him 
 aside, and he informed him that Professor 
 Crutius regretted that he was unable to pay 
 him a visit, being obliged at that moment 
 to set about preparing the evening edition. 
 
 " Did you bring the morning edition with 
 you ? : ' 
 
 "No, it will not be issued until eleven 
 o'clock. 1 ' 
 
 " Why didn't you wait for it? it is nearly 
 eleven now." 
 
 " I thought that you might want some- 
 thing else, sir, before going up to the cast le." 
 
 " Very well, give me my overcoat." 
 
 Joseph was standing near at hand all 
 ready with it ; Sonnenkamp took leave of 
 Roland and Pranken-, who were going to 
 ride out with some companions ; he request- 
 ed them to be back at the hotel at twelve 
 o'clock precisely. 
 
 For the last time the commoner Sonnen- 
 kamp descended those steps, to ascend them 
 next as a Baron. The Cabinetsrath walked 
 by his side. 
 
 When he entered the carriage below, the 
 hack-drivers, as they had been recommend- 
 ed, wanted to raise a cheer, but they could 
 not bring it out : it was of no use to try with- 
 out the dwarf who knew how to lead off ; 
 they stood all together in a knot staring at 
 Sonnenkamp, and took off their hats. 
 
 Sonnenkamp acknowledged the salutation 
 most graciously. 
 
 The Cabinetsrath regretted that he could 
 not go with him ; he simply ordered the 
 coachman to stop before the great gate of 
 the palace. 
 
 Pranken left Roland alone, as the Ensign 
 had promised to call for the latter when he 
 got back from the drill ground. With an 
 unusually quiet tone and modest manner, 
 Pranken bade good bye until they met again 
 at table, for Sonnenkamp had ordered an 
 elegant little lunch for four, himself, his son 
 and son-in-law, and the Cabinetsrath. 
 
 Sonnenkamp dashed along through the 
 streets of the city ; the people on foot stood 
 still. Many who knew him saluted him, and 
 many too, who did not know him ; for a 
 foreign prince might sit in such a carriage, 
 and deference must be paid to a foreign 
 prince. 
 
 The horses trotted on gaily, as if they 
 knew to what honor they were carrying 
 their master. Sonnenkamp lay back in the 
 carriage, and played awhile with the order 
 upon his breast. This token gave him an 
 encouragement ; for why was he apprehen- 
 sive in taking the second step, when he had 
 felt no apprehension in taking the first, and 
 no danger had yet made its appearance ? 
 
 The carriage drov£ past a building with 
 many windows. Sonnenkamp knew it. It 
 was the editing and printing establishment 
 of Professor Crutius. Knots of men were 
 standing in front of it, some of them read- 
 ing a copy of the paper ; they looked up 
 and nodded, as the handsome carriage 
 passed by. Sonnenkamp would have liked 
 to stop to get a paper ; he had already 
 grasped the check-string, intending to give 
 Bertram the signal to stop, but he dropped 
 it again. 
 
 Why is this ? Why is he so anxious to 
 get the newspaper to-day? Ah, men are 
 better off in the desolate wilderness, where 
 not one human being is to be seen, where 
 there are no newspapers nor anything of the 
 kind. So Sonnenkamp thought to himself, 
 as he drove through the lively capital to the 
 palace of the Prince. 
 
 A jolt suddenly startled him ; the carriage 
 was stopped. Around the corner, a battal- 
 ion of soldiers was approaching with loud 
 music. The carriage had to stop until the 
 soldiers had all passed by, and it required 
 some effort to keep the horses in check, on 
 account of the noise. 
 
 Now they were all past ; Sonnenkamp 
 looked at his watch. It would be a terrible 
 thing if, at the very- outset, he should have 
 missed the appointed minute, and have 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 421 
 
 been obliged to excuse himself to the 
 Prince. Are you then so far a prisoner ? 
 Are you then so bound to the very minute ? 
 
 He was almost ready to call out to the 
 coachman to turn back ; he would have 
 nothing to do with the whole affair. 
 
 Again he was angry with himself at being 
 so powerfully excited without cause. He 
 let down the carriage window, took off his 
 hat, and was delighted to feel the refresh- 
 ment of the cool breeze. 
 
 Bertram proudly drew up the carriage 
 before the grand portal. Both the senti- 
 nels stood still ; they were waiting to see 
 whether they should shoulder or present 
 arms. The carriage door was opened, the 
 sentinels remained motionless, lor only a 
 man in black clothes, with a single order, 
 stepped out. 
 
 Joseph accompanied Sonnenkamp to the 
 large high-studded porch, which was white 
 and richly ornamented with stucco work. 
 At the foot of the step were two hand- 
 somely chiselled marble wolves ; they 
 looked at Sonnenkamp in almost a friendly 
 way ; and really, everything looked as 
 splendid as could be imagined. Sonnen- 
 kamp made a sign to Joseph that he might 
 give something, suitable to the occasion to 
 the lackeys in attendance here ; he had 
 provided him with an uncounted handful 
 of gold for- the purpose ; he could trust 
 Joseph. 
 
 The porter in grand livery, with broad 
 hat and gold-tipped staff, asked whom he 
 should announce. 
 
 Sonnenkamp and Joseph looked at each 
 other in embarrassment. Joseph was dis- 
 creet enough to leave the answer to his 
 master, and Sonnenkamp did not know 
 whether he ought to say Baron von Lichten- 
 burg or Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Pooh, what did it signify giving the old 
 name to this lackey ? This name appeared 
 to him so repugnant, thrown off for good 
 like a worn-out shoe ; it was so hard to un- 
 derstand how he had borne it so long, with- 
 out being ashamed of it before the whole 
 world. Finally Sonnenkamp answered 
 with evident condescension : — 
 
 "I have been ordered to wait upon His 
 Highness." 
 
 He felt badly to be obliged to use the 
 word " ordered* 11 before Joseph — he, Son- 
 nenkamp, had been "ordered" — but he 
 wished to show the footman at any rate 
 that he was acquainted with court phrase- 
 ology. 
 
 The footman pressed a telegraphic bell ; 
 a valet dressed in black appeared at the 
 head of the staircase, and said that the 
 Herr Baron had been expected for two 
 
 minutes, and must make all the haste pos- 
 sible. It seemed almost as if an avenging 
 angel from heaven were announcing here 
 below some shortcoming or transgression. 
 
 With trembling knees Sonnenkamp stum- 
 bled up the carpeted staircase ; he had to 
 draw on his gloves on the way up, saying 
 silently to himself meanwhile : — 
 
 " Keep yourself easy now. 11 
 
 At the top of the staircase a second 
 valet appeared, white-haired, in short black 
 knee-breeches and high black gaiters, and 
 said : — 
 
 "Do not hurry, Herr Sonnenkamp, His 
 Highness has not returned yet from the 
 drill ground. 1 ' 
 
 Sonnenkamp felt like knocking the first 
 valet down for having put him into such a 
 state of anxiety. He regretted that he had 
 commissioned Joseph to give every one of 
 the servants a piece of gold ; he hoped that 
 Joseph, after all, was a rogue, and would 
 keep the gold for himself, and give the 
 cursed attendants none of it. 
 
 The white-haired valet conversed freely 
 with Sonnenkamp, and informed him, that 
 he had been with Prince Leonhard in Amer- 
 ica ; it was a hateful country, without order 
 and without manners ; he thanked God, 
 when he got home again. 
 
 Sonneukamp did not know how he ought 
 to take this freedom ; but the best way was 
 to put up with it silently. He listened 
 with assenting nods, and thought to him- 
 self, What a way they have of doing things 
 here in the palace ! It is just as if the peo- 
 ple in it didn't walk on their feet ; every- 
 thing is so mysterious ; as if something was 
 going on every moment that had nothing at 
 all in common with the life of other men. 
 
 The white-haired valet requested Son- 
 nenkamp to sit down while he waited. 
 
 Sonnenkamp did sit down, and drew off 
 his right-hand glove ; he wanted to be able 
 to do it without difficulty when the time 
 came to unglove that hand for the oath ; 
 and then he presented some gold pieces to 
 the white-haired valet. 
 
 The experienced valet withdrew, bowing, 
 to the end of the room ; he knew the dread 
 that was felt by those who are not accus- 
 tomed to the court, and would leave the 
 man to compose himself. 
 
 Sonnenkamp sat still ; again those wild' 
 pulsations began to hammer away in his 
 thumb ; he called for a glass of water. 
 
 The white-haired valet called to another, 
 this one to a third, and the call for a glass 
 of water went far into the distance. 
 
 A very old clock that was standing on 
 the mantle-piece struck the quarter hour. 
 Sonnenkamp compared his watch with it, 
 
422 
 
 TITE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 and found that it was very slow ; lie deter- 
 mined in future to set bis wateh by the 
 cloek in the palace. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was alone : and yet he little 
 thought that through the tlear edges of the 
 ground glass in a door behind him, two 
 eyes were fastened upon him, and that 
 those eyes were rolling savagely in their 
 sockets. 
 
 Just as the glass of water made its ap- 
 pearance, it was announced that Herr Son- 
 nenkamp might enter. lie could not even 
 once moisten his lips. 
 
 He entered the large hall, where it was 
 bright daylight ; but he staggered back, for 
 directly opposite to him hung an engraving, 
 a work of Alfred Liethers. A strong-limbed 
 man with the murderer's knife still in his 
 hand, bending and stooping, was making 
 his escape over a heath ; the bushes on the 
 road were blown aside by the wind, and 
 above the fugitive hovers a supernatural 
 shape, holding a sword, with the point 
 downward, directly over the head of the 
 fleeing criminal. 
 
 Sonnenkamp rubbed his eyes. 
 
 What is. the picture here for ? Or is it 
 only a creation of his own fancy? 
 
 He did not have time to decide this 
 matter for himself, for just then the Prince 
 entered noiselessly from behind the curtain 
 of the door, over the thick heavy carpet. 
 He was dressed in full uniform, with a broad 
 band thrown over the right shoulder and 
 across his breast. He carried himself very 
 erect, and merely nodded slightly. He 
 bade Sonnenkamp welcome, and excused 
 himself for having kept him waiting. 
 
 Sonnenkamp bowed low, without uttering 
 a word. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A BLOOD-RED STREAK. 
 
 " Is your son with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Highness. 11 
 
 "Is he still determined to enter the 
 army ? 11 
 
 " He is anxious to do so. 11 
 
 "I like the noble-looking youth, and will 
 take care that the ladies do not spoil him ; 
 they would like to make a plaything of him. 
 Has he already applied for admission ? 11 
 
 " Not yet, your Highness. I wished to 
 have the application made in the name that 
 your Highness is pleased to confer upon 
 me. 11 
 
 "Quite right, 11 answered the Prince. 
 On his writing-table were two telegraphic 
 knobs, a white and a black one ; he 
 pressed the white one ; the old valet entered, 
 and the Prince said, — 
 
 "I desire that there shall be no one in 
 the ante-chamber. 1 ' 
 
 The attendant withdrew. Sonnenkamp 
 gazed questioningly at the Prince, who 
 said : — 
 
 "Your elevation to rank has been a 
 difficult matter for me. You have many 
 enemies, of course." 
 
 Sonnenkamp\s eyes closed for a moment, 
 as if some one were brandishing a dagger 
 before them ; and then he gazed at the pic- 
 ture ; it was no creation of his fancy, it was 
 hanging there behind the Prince. Why did 
 the Prince have it in his cabinet? 
 
 "You are a man of noble ideas, 11 began 
 •the Prince anew; " you have shaped your 
 life yourself, I respect you for that ; such 
 men deserve the highest honors. I am glad 
 that I can confer tjiem on you, as I can. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp wanted to say that he was 
 well aware of the opinion of the Count of 
 Wolfsgarten, but that he did not question the 
 absolute power of the Prince ; but it seemed 
 better to be silent. Why should he embark 
 in a discussion which would only lengthen 
 out the scene? And besides, the Cabinets- 
 rath had strongly urged upon him the neces- 
 sity of discretion. 
 
 The Prince now went over once more all 
 the noble and good things which Sonnen- 
 kamp had done. The latter listened mod- 
 estly with downcast eyes ; he really found 
 it very trying to hear it all now in his pre- 
 sent position ; the Prince might defer it 
 until a party, or a hunt, or some other oc- 
 casion would offer a favorable opportunity. 
 Sonnenkamp was of the opinion that the 
 whole court, as well as himself, looked upon 
 all these stories about nobility as nothing 
 more than an excellent necessary humbug ; 
 he was astonished to find the Prince so 
 solemn and earnest in a t6te-a-t6te. Or 
 was this part of the humbug ? 
 
 But the Prince was going through with 
 what was before him as became a man 
 moved by duty, however unpleasant the 
 duty might be ; he evidently considered it 
 proper to declare his motives, in order to 
 exhort the man to strive after tilings still 
 more noble. He seemed to himself at this 
 moment a kind of priest, who, concealed 
 from the whole world in the inner sanctuary 
 of the temple, is consecrating a novice ; he 
 was much moved himself. The first cham- 
 berlain had not been wrong ; the Prince 
 had returned to the palace some time before 
 the hour appointed, but he had been quietly 
 preparing himself beforehand for this solemn 
 ceremony. 
 
 Since Herr von Endlich's elevation to the 
 nobility, the Prince had been in the habit 
 of using certain set phrases ; no one knew 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 423 
 
 who had originated them, but he often 
 repeated, like a lesson learned by heart, the 
 words — "Yes, yes, it is an established 
 rule, an excellent rule, that the monumental 
 should not be treated lightly. One should 
 not carve in stone, or cast in bronze, a 
 momentary jest or whim, to look awkward 
 and out of place as time goes on ; such 
 things are only fit to enliven the passing 
 moment. The transient should not be 
 transformed into an enduring monument. 11 
 He did not show distinctly what was in his 
 mind, but it was easy to see what he meant. 
 He had not done well in making a pun 
 with the name he had conferred upon Herr 
 von Endlich, for what is more monumental 
 than elevation to rank? The present occa- 
 sion, therefore, he wished to make a thor- 
 oughly solemn one. 
 
 Patiently, and like a child bending for- 
 ward to receive confirmation. Sonnenkamp 
 bowed his head. Several times the Prince 
 stretched out one hand, several times the 
 other, several times both together, while 
 he was speaking of the blessings which men 
 strongly armed with the knowledge of the 
 higher duties spread around them. Son- 
 nenkamp expected every minute that he 
 would lay both hands upon his head and 
 bless him, and although the Prince was 
 younger than himself, he would have re- 
 ceived the blessing with modesty and 
 humility, for this man had been consecrated 
 by the custom of ages for the dispensation 
 of honor. 
 
 At this moment Sonnenkamp tried to be 
 right monarchically inclined ; if it had been 
 demanded of him, he would, with every 
 prescribed formula, have solemnly foresworn 
 republic, constitution, and whatever was 
 firmly fixed by the power of law. 
 
 In the midst of his remarks the Prince 
 took up a roll, covered with blue velvet, that 
 was lying on his table ; he took off the 
 covering and drew out a parchment roll 
 that crackled and rustled, and bore a broad 
 glistening seal. 
 
 Sonnen kam p took offhis right-hand glove ; 
 now comes the moment when he must take 
 the oath and receive the parchment that is 
 to make him a new man. He was ready to 
 be made a new man ; he tried to be deeply 
 affected, and sought for the only thing in 
 the world that could really affect him deeply 
 and make him tremble. And now in the 
 middle, of the Prince's cabinet he saw be- 
 fore him a church-yard covered with snow 
 in a Polish village, and there was his 
 mother's grave ; he did not hear what the 
 Prince was saying while he held the parch- 
 ment in his hand, but his words were un- 
 doubtedly very moving. 
 
 But now, what does that mean? the 
 Prince laid the parchment down again on 
 the table, and, sitting down, said : — 
 
 "1 am glad to see, in your eyes, how 
 profoundly you feel this moment. Pray be 
 seated. 11 Sonnenkamp sat down, and the 
 Prince continued : — 
 
 "Let us discuss one more subject, in a 
 quiet way. You have held many slaves, 
 have you any still ? 11 
 
 " No, your Highness." 
 
 "Was it only a longing for Germany 
 that induced you to return to the Old World, 
 or was it also your finding the condition of 
 affairs in the vaunted Republic unbear- 
 able ? " 
 
 "The latter, your Highness, although 
 the former had something to do with it. I 
 see trouble brewing in the United States, 
 which — I say this only to your Highness — 
 cannot be settled except by the establish- 
 ment of a monarchy in the New World. 11 
 
 " Good, you must explain the matter to 
 me more fully some other time. I am glad 
 to learn — very glad. It is our duty to 
 receive instruction from those who under- 
 stand a particular subject thoroughly. 
 What do you think of slavery in general ? 11 
 
 "That is a very extensive subject, your 
 Highness ; I have put my views upon it in 
 writing; I shall have the honor 11 
 
 " No, just tell me concisely the kernel, 
 the principle of the thing. 11 
 
 "Your Highness, the niggers are an in- 
 ferior race, that is an established physiolog- 
 ical fact ; it is idle dreaming — though 
 honestly maintained by many — which leads 
 directly to the ruin of the nigger himself, to 
 set him down as entitled to the same rights 
 with other men. 11 
 
 " And would you — 11 asked the Prince. 
 "No, I will put another question to you. 
 How do you regard a man who traffics in 
 beings of this inferior race ? 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp started up immediately from 
 his chair, but he sat down again quickly, 
 and said : — 
 
 " Creatures, your Highness, who cannot 
 help themselves, and who never will be able 
 to, are protected as they would not other- 
 wise be by being considered as property ; 
 that so called generosity, without profit, 
 without material regard either for property 
 or for honor, is like a soul without a body ; 
 one can conceive it, but it does not exist, 
 at least in the world we see before us. 11 
 
 "Very fine — very good. You are a 
 thinker. I myself believe that the negro is 
 better off with a master. But how is it 
 when you see with your own eyes the child 
 sold away from the mother, and in that way 
 every tie of family forcibly torn asunder?" 
 
424 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 V But, your Ifighness, that happens very 
 seldom, or rather hardly ever," replied Son- 
 nenkamp with great composure, "for it 
 would be a material disadvantage, and 
 would make the slaves less inclined to work ; 
 but should it happen, any sentimental feel- 
 ing about the matter would be only narrow- 
 ing the sentimentalism from a wider sphere 
 to a special case. A brute that has out- 
 grown the care of its parents knows the par- 
 ents no more, mates do not know each 
 other after the brooding time is past. I 
 will not say 11 
 
 " What is it?" said the Prince, interrupt- 
 ing him suddenly. 
 
 The white-haired valet entered. 
 
 " Why am I interrupted ? " 
 
 " His Excellency the Minister begs your 
 Highness to open this immediately." 
 
 The Prince opened the letter, and took out 
 a printed sheet ; a red line ran along the 
 margin of it like a streak of blood. The 
 Prince began to read, he looked up from 
 the page towards Sonnenkamp : he read on 
 farther, the paper cracked and trembled in 
 his hand ; he laid it down on the table and 
 said : — 
 
 " Confounded audacity ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp was standing at the table, 
 and it seemed to him as if the two tele- 
 graphic knobs had changed into eyes, one 
 white and one black, and from the green 
 table a fabulous creature of strange form 
 was shaping itself, — a queer monster with a 
 white and a black eye, and that it was 
 emerging from the deep, moving along slug- 
 gishly, and staggering from side to side. 
 As if in the frenzy of fever he sat there 
 collecting all his strength. The Prince, 
 looking now at the paper, now at Son'nen- 
 kamp, at last walked up to him and held 
 out the paper ; the rustle of it was like the 
 stab of a knife as he said : — 
 
 " Here, read it — read it." 
 
 Printed in large letters on it were these 
 words marked with red ink : — 
 
 " A humble suggestion for a coat-of- 
 arms and escutcheon for the ennobled slave- 
 trader and slave-killer, James Heinrich 
 Sonnenkamp, formerly Banfield, from Lou- 
 isiana — " 
 
 Sonnenkamp read only these words, and 
 then stared up at the Prince, on whose face 
 was a distorted smile. 
 
 "Give me your hand," said the Prince, 
 " give me your hand and tell me, on your 
 word of honor, that it is a lie. Give me 
 your hand, and we will then crush the impu- 
 dent scoundrels." 
 
 Sonnenkamp staggered back, as if a shot 
 had struck him. What was all that he had 
 
 enjoyed in life compared with the anguish 
 of this moment ? 
 
 He stretched out his hand doubled up, 
 as if he wished to say : I can break 3 ou like 
 a slender twig. But he opened his hand, 
 and held it on high with the forefinger 
 pointing to heaven. 
 
 Then suddenly there appeared in front 
 of him a large powerful negro, rolling his 
 eyes and showing his teeth. 
 
 With a cry more like that of a wild beast 
 than of a human being, Sonnenkamp fell 
 backwards upon his chair. 
 
 The figure in front of him gave a yell, 
 and behind him yelled another — it was Ad- 
 ams, who had rushed in. 
 
 "Prince! master!" cried the negro, 
 " this is the man who took me, who car- 
 ried me off as a slave, and pitched me into 
 the water. Let him only show his finger, 
 it still bears the mark of my teeth. Let me- 
 have him, let me have him ! Til suck his 
 blood for him, I'll choke him ! Only let me 
 have him a minute — let me have him ! then 
 kill me ! " 
 
 Adams caught hold of Sonnenkamp's 
 hand from behind, and clutched it as if he 
 would crush it. 
 
 Sonnenkamp struggled with all his might 
 to throw off the powerful hold, wrestling 
 with the negro clinging fast to him ; and 
 his anguish was doubled, for he was not 
 only wrestling, but, as he thought, he could 
 see in the mirror opposite two beings, one 
 was himself — was it really he ? — the 
 other a devil, a demon. 
 
 Is it all only a fever-fancy, or is it reality ? 
 
 The Prince's finger constantly plied 
 the telegraphic bell on his table ; servants 
 began to pour in, in great numbers. 
 
 The Prince cried : — 
 
 " Take Adams out. See that he keeps 
 quiet ; and the rest of you show this man 
 out of the palace." 
 
 Adams was torn away from Sonnenkamp ; 
 he roared like a bull that has received the 
 fatal stroke, and foamed at the mouth. 
 
 The Prince took the parchment with the 
 red seal up from the table, and turned 
 away with it. 
 
 Then Sonnenkamp rose up ; he glanced at 
 the Prince, his eyes almost starting from 
 their sockets, and shrieked out : — 
 
 " What would you have ? and what then 
 are you ? Your ancestors, or connections, 
 or whatever else they were, sold their sub- 
 jects away into America, and got a fixed 
 price for a shot-off arm, for a lucky corpse. 
 You have trafficked in white men, and sent 
 them across the sea. And what are you 
 now ? Secret proprietors of gambling hells 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 425 
 
 at home. Pah ! I bought my slaves from a 
 prince, bought them honorably, but what 
 did you do ? You sold off your subjects, 
 and on Sundays those who were left behind 
 had to say amen in the church, when the 
 Lord of lords was supplicated for your wel- 
 fare. Are you ashamed of this kinship ? 
 But I tell you he was a man, and deserved 
 better to reign than " 
 
 He was not sure whether the Prince still 
 heard what he was saying ; the servants 
 seized him and gave him to understand that 
 he must be quiet, that such loud talking was 
 not permitted there. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had fallen ; he was raised 
 again, and led down the staircase. He 
 looked about him often, as if he wanted to 
 say, I shall never tread these halls more. 
 
 Below, the carriage was waiting. Son- 
 nennamp leaned on Joseph and said : — 
 
 "Joseph, sit beside me in the carriage. 1 ' 
 
 That was all he said. 
 
 When they had reached the hotel, and got 
 out, the little fellow was in the midst of the 
 hackmen ; they all had courage enough 
 now, and cried out : — 
 
 "Long live the Baron! hurra! again 
 hurra ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp could not utter a word. 
 Was the world mocking at him ? 
 
 He could not tell how he got up the steps. 
 In a moment he was sitting in a large chair ; 
 he gazed at the mirror, as if in that room 
 too the reflection of the negro must con- 
 front him there. 
 
 He sat there, staring, without speaking a 
 word. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 DISSECTED. 
 
 Sonnenkamp leaned back in the arm-chair 
 and stared before him ; then he looked at 
 the chair itself and caught hold of the arms 
 of it, as if he wanted to ask, Does the 
 chair I am sitting on still hold together? 
 Then, as he laid his hand upon his breast, he 
 began to quiver like an aspen ; he felt the 
 order, tore it off with vehemence, and 
 cried : — 
 
 "So it is, I must struggle with two 
 worlds. I must fight with the old one as I 
 have with the new. Cheer up ! the new hunt 
 is beginning. I will not suffer myself to be 
 put down. I must either despise myself, or 
 despise you ; we will see who is strongest, 
 who is most worthy." 
 
 It breathed new life into him to think 
 that the world so despised him. 
 
 " Just so ! I can do that too ; I despise 
 you all ! " 
 
 " But the children ! the children ! " some- 
 
 thing whispered to him. When he was wag- 
 ing war in America, the children knew 
 nothing of it. He rang and asked : — 
 
 " Where is Roland ? " 
 
 " The young master has not got back 
 yet ; he was here at twelve o'clock, and 
 asked for you, but he rode away again with 
 some comrades." 
 
 "He should have waited," exclaimed 
 Sonnenkamp. "Well — it is better so," 
 he said, calming himself. 
 
 Again he was sitting alone ; his mind 
 turned inward on itself, and now the matter 
 was clear to him. So it was that the men 
 outside the printing-office had been reading ; 
 it was through mockery that the poor devils 
 in front of the hotel had raised a cheer for 
 him. 
 
 He stood up and looked through the 
 window. The hack-drivers wert standing 
 together in a group, and the dwarf was 
 reading to them from the newspaper ; they 
 may have felt that Sonnenkamp was looking 
 at them, for all at once they turned their 
 gaze upwards, and Sonnenkamp as if struck 
 by a hundred bullets staggered back into 
 the middle of the room ; then he sat down 
 and held his open hands together between 
 his knees. He had gazed into an abyss ; it 
 had dizzied him, but he was composing 
 himself with courage and decision. He 
 knew how at this moment they were talking 
 about him all over the city, in carpeted 
 hall and plastered stable — they are saying : 
 I wouldn't take all his millions to be in his 
 shoes. Very assiduously did Sonnenkamp 
 picture everything to himself — and what 
 will be in the paper in the morning ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp sat silent a long time, buried 
 in himself; at length a letter was brought to 
 him, bearing a large seal. Sonnenkamp 
 started ; could the Prince have regretted 
 what had happened, and have gone so far 
 as to join with him, and, truly great, thus 
 defy the world? Long he stared at the 
 seal ; but it was only that of the newspaper 
 office, and the weighty letter contained 
 several pieces of gold. Crutius, with many 
 thanks, returned what he had received at 
 the time he had gone up to the villa, and 
 explained that he would have sent it back 
 much sooner if he had not desired to pay it 
 with interest. 
 
 "Pshaw! how contemptible," cried Son- 
 nenkamp. For sometime he weighed in his 
 hand the gold that had been scornfully re- 
 turned to him. So it is then ! Every one 
 dares to scorn you, and you must be quiet 
 when every one pities you. 
 
 He had a revolver with him, he sprang 
 up; he took it up, waved it in the air, 
 turned it over. Yes, that was the course 
 
426 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 to take ! To the printing-office and shoot 
 down this Professor Crutins like a mad dog \ 
 But in this country that cannot go unpunish- 
 ed. And should he, then, shoot himself, 
 be thrown into prison, and have his head cut 
 off? 
 
 "No, no! we must work the thing dif- 
 ferently, 11 he said to himself. He laid the 
 revolver back again in the case, and rang. 
 Joseph came, he was trembling. Who 
 knows what the man-eater is going to do 
 with him now ? 
 
 " Ah, master ! 11 said Joseph, " I remain 
 with you. The coachman Bertram has taken 
 service here in the house. I do not want 
 double and treble wages, which people say 
 you will have to give now. 11 
 
 " Good ! Who was your father, is he still 
 alive ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; my father is in the School 
 of Anatomy, and when the corpses of the 
 suicides came to the dissecting-house, my 
 father often used to say : Yes, yes, when 
 one has done that most frightful thing in the 
 world, he must be dissected into the bar- 
 gain. Excuse me, Sir, I too am quite con- 
 fused. But the Professorin told me once, 
 that every one has done something in his 
 life out of the way, and so we should stand 
 by and be true to one another. 11 
 
 A peculiar smile flitted over Sonnen- 
 kamp's countenance ; the poor rogue was 
 playing the kind-hearted, and bestowing 
 forgiveness upon him. 
 
 " So ? the Professorin ? " said he. In a 
 moment his thoughts were in the villa, in 
 the park, in the hot-houses, in the green- 
 house. He wanted to ask Joseph whether 
 the Professorin had said anything more 
 definite, and whether she knew all about 
 him. But he kept back the words, and 
 simply said that he wanted to send some 
 messengers. 
 
 "And do you see to it too, let Roland 
 be hunted up and brought 'here at once. 
 Let Herr von Pranken be sent for, too, 11 he 
 cried out after Joseph. 
 
 Roland was hard to find, but Pranken was 
 not to be found at all, for he was in a place 
 where no one would ever have thought of 
 looking for the life-enjoying Baron. 
 
 The head waiter entered and said that 
 dinner was ready, and asked when it should 
 be served up. Sonnenkamp looked hard at 
 the questioner. The creature surely knew 
 that he would eat nothing, and had only 
 come to spy upon him ; perhaps there were 
 many people down below who would like to 
 hear how Herr Sonnenkamp bore himself 
 just now. Sonnenkamp rose proudly, look- 
 ed at the head waiter with a repelling glance, 
 and told him that he need not ask, he would 
 
 let him know when he wanted what he had 
 ordered ; and at the same time he charged 
 him to see to it, that no one should be al- 
 lowed to enter his room without having 
 been announced. 
 
 One thing after another passed in con- 
 fusion through his brain ; Joseph had told 
 him about the suicides who are dissected in 
 the dissecting-room. Sonnenkamp contem- 
 plated himself from head to foot, and then 
 opened his mouth as if he must utter the 
 thought that was now running through his 
 soul. He is being dissected, not bodily, 
 but spiritually, by every stinging, scandal- 
 loving tongue. 
 
 CHxlPTER V. 
 THE CONFESSION OF A WORLDLING. 
 
 At the very time that Sonnenkamp was 
 entering the palace, Pranken was going 
 into the deanery ; he was detained a few 
 minutes by the passing soldiery, he had to 
 salute many a comrade covered with dust, 
 on foot and on horseback. He was going 
 to that quarter of the city wherein resound- 
 ed no clang of military music ; here all was 
 still, as if everything were holding its breath, 
 except that in the church the organ notes 
 were still swelling. He went in, he saw the 
 Dean, a large powerful man, just returning 
 into the sacristy. Pranken sat awhile in a , 
 pew, until he felt sure that the Dean had 
 reached his house ; then he left the church. 
 The servant was standing in the open door ; 
 he said that the reverend gentleman request- 
 ed Pranken to walk in and wait a few mo- 
 ments. He was shown up the staircase : it 
 was a fine large staircase of the old chapter 
 house. At the top, a young priest who was 
 just coming out was shutting the door very 
 quietly, even reverently; / the young priest 
 came down the left staircase while Pranken 
 went up the right. 
 
 Pranken had to wait awhile in the large 
 room where an open book lay on the table. 
 He looked into it ; it was a scheme of ecclesi- 
 astical preferments ; he smiled. Good, the 
 priests, lik? the military, have a printed 
 list, too. This simile gave him new cour- 
 age. 
 
 The Dean entered ; he had a book in his 
 hand, between the leaves of which he had 
 inserted his forefinger. He saluted Pran- 
 ken, making a gesture with the book, and 
 begged him to sit down ; he offered him a 
 seat on the sofa, and seated himself opposite 
 him in a chair on casters. 
 
 " What do you bring, Herr Baron ? 11 
 With a peculiar smile, Pranken answered 
 that he brought nothing, but on the other 
 hand came to get something. The priest 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 427 
 
 nodded, looked into the book once more at 
 the place where he had his finger inserted, 
 and laying it aside said : — 
 " I ara ready/' 
 
 Pranken began to explain, that he had 
 chosen the Dean in preference to any one 
 else, to be his confessor in an affair which 
 only a man of noble birth could properly 
 appreciate and give advice about. The 
 Dean grasped his chin with his left hand, 
 and said with great decision, that after or- 
 dination and the new birth there was no 
 longer any nobility ; he had no different 
 power from that of the son of the poorest 
 day-laborer. 
 
 Pranken felt that he had made a mistake 
 at the outset, and went on to say in a very 
 humble way, that above all things he re- 
 garded the priestly dignity as the highest, 
 but that still it was well known that the 
 very worthy Dean knew something about 
 the circumstances of life which he wished to 
 lay before him. Then he gave a concise 
 account of his past life ; it was that of a son 
 of a noble family until his acquaintance 
 with Sonnenkamp. At this point he went 
 & somewhat into detail, and confessed that 
 his thinking of Manna as his wife, Manna 
 the daughter of the millionaire, was at first 
 nothing more than a jest, a pastime. He 
 related how Manna had unexpectedly en- 
 tered the convent ; and with great earnest- 
 ness he declared that it was Manna that 
 had wakened in him the knowledge of the 
 higher life. He dwelt particularly on his 
 momentary determination to become a 
 priest ; but he was now of another way of 
 thinking; he was still too worldly in his 
 views, but he hoped, however, in union 
 with Manna, to lead a life devoted to the 
 highest of all interests. 
 
 With quiet attention, frequently closing 
 his eves, and again opening them quickly, 
 the Dean listened to the story. 
 
 At last Pranken paused, and the reverend 
 father said : — 
 
 "That, I suppose, is the introduction. 
 I must now tell you on my part that I know 
 this Herr Sonnenkamp and his daughter. I 
 was staying not long ajjo with a brother 
 priest in the town which is part of the same 
 parish with Villa Eden — is not the place 
 so called ? I have seen the maiden ; it was 
 then reported that she was going to become 
 a nun. I have also seen the park and the 
 house ; everything is very stately, very 
 beautiful. And now I beg of you, proceed 
 and tell me, without any further digression, 
 what you wish from me. 1 ' 
 
 Pranken went on to sav rapidly, that in 
 conjunction with the Cabinetsrath he had 
 brought matters to such a point that Son- 
 
 nenkamp was at this very hour receiving a 
 patent of nobility. 
 
 Again he paused, but the Reverend father 
 asked no more questions, but simply looked 
 at him inquiringly. 
 
 Fastening his gaze upon the table-cover, 
 Pranken now went on to tell what he knew 
 of Sonnenkamp's past life ; he had, up to 
 this moment, believed that he might regard 
 it with indifference, but at the present time 
 — just since yesterday — when Sonnen- 
 kamp and his family were to be made of 
 equai rank with himself, it let him rest no 
 longer. 
 
 " I don't understand you," said the Dean. 
 " Do you find yourself overburdened in 
 your conscience, because you, although 
 you knew what the man is, still. endeavored 
 successfully to procure for him an honora- 
 ble and distinguished preferment? in a 
 word, his elevation to the rank of noble ? " 
 
 " Yes and no," replied Pranken, "lam 
 not clear on that point. I could say that I 
 am innocent, for I have never been asked 
 my opinion on the matter, and still " 
 
 " Go on, I think you are on the right 
 path ; ' and still ' — you were going to 
 say." 
 
 Pranken resumed his speech like a pupil 
 in examination, and collecting his thoughts 
 said : — 
 
 " Thank Heaven that there are living be- 
 ings sent into the world, to whom we can 
 and must tell what we do not acknowledge 
 to ourselves. I must still, however, con- 
 fess that my open and undisguised relation 
 to Herr Sonnenkamp is perhaps something 
 more than an expression of an opinion." 
 
 " Right, quite right ! You have come to 
 me then, to learn, at the very last, hour, 
 what you ought to do ? " 
 
 "To tell the honest truth, no. I simply 
 wished to have you give me something, an 
 injunction of some sort to ease this con- 
 stant torment and fear of discovery." 
 
 " Wonderful worjd ! " rejoined the Priest. 
 "Wonderful world! You would like to 
 live in sinful enjoyment, and still, at the 
 same time receive an ' absolving benedic- 
 tion.'" 
 
 Pranken's thoughts wandered involunta- 
 rily to Nelly's house near by, but with a 
 powerful effort he called back his thoughts. 
 
 Both men said nothing for a short time ; 
 then the Dean asked : — 
 
 " Does this Herr Sonnenkamp know that 
 you are acquainted with his past life ? " 
 
 " O no, and he must never know it." 
 
 Again there was a long pause. 
 
 From the cathedral near by came the 
 stroke of noon ; the bells rang out the An- 
 gelus, the Priest rose and said a low 
 
428 
 
 TIIE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 prayer ; Pranken did the same. They 
 seated themselves again, but neither spoke. 
 Pranken was becoming indignant ; he was 
 angry with himself for having come here : 
 however, there was no help for it now ; with 
 repressed anger he said at last : — 
 
 " Very Reverend sir, I have confessed 
 everything to you now ; I beg of you to ad- 
 vise me. 1 ' 
 
 M Should I advise you to forsake Herr 
 Sonnenkamp and your bride ? " 
 
 Pranken shrank back. 
 
 The Dean proceeded, rising, and walk- 
 ing up and down the parlor: — "That is 
 the way with you. Yon will have advice, 
 you children of worldly pleasure, but only 
 such advice as enjoins no privation upon 
 you ; you will have such counsel only as 
 enables you to accomplish your purpose, 
 whatever it may be, with a pacified con- 
 science. You want mustard for the diges- 
 tion of heavy dinners, do you not ? " said 
 he, turning round suddenly. 
 
 His eyes sparkled. 
 
 "Reverend .sir," said Pranken, in a 
 tremor, " bid me forsake Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp and Manna, and I promise you that 
 I will do it forthwith. Only think what 
 will become of the maiden, and shall not 
 what has been so earned be used for 
 higher " 
 
 " Stop ! " said the Dean, interrupting 
 him, and extending his hand with a gesture 
 of rebuke, knitting his br ows and pressing 
 his lips tight together. "You think that 
 you can bribe us with these millions ? You 
 are another of those, who, with outward 
 veneration, still believe within themselves 
 the clergy want nothing but money, nothing 
 but p^wer. No, we want none of your 
 money, so won by marriage or inherit- 
 ance i " 
 
 The Priest was standing at the window, 
 looking up at the sky, in which dark clouds 
 were gathering ; he seemed to have quite 
 forgotten that Pranken was there, and the 
 latter finally said to 'him, — 
 
 " Reverend sir, do you wish me to with- 
 draw ? " 
 
 The Priest turned round quickly and said, 
 motioning with his left hand, — 
 "Sit down — sit down." 
 Pranken obeyed. 
 
 " Now I will tell you something. What 
 you have done to the nobility, for you have 
 done it, and not simply allowed it to hap- 
 pen, is your concern and that of the nobil- 
 ity ; for us, your grades of honor are mat- 
 ters of no moment. Whether a man is a 
 commoner or a noble, it is all the same to 
 us. But I tell you this " — the Priest hes- 
 
 itated, and resting his elbow in the hollow 
 of his right hand took hold of his chin with 
 his left; he seemed to be arranging his 
 words with quiet deliberation — "I tell 
 you this : you must be true now, you must 
 not forsake this man and his daughter. 
 You must share everything with them, what- 
 ever the worldly honors may bring ; you 
 must consider yourself as linked to them, 
 and thank God in humbleness of heart that 
 you have an opportunity of devoting your- 
 self, and leading your new family to the 
 pure and noble sacrilice of self." 
 
 Pranken started up, kissed the Priest's 
 hand, and exclaimed, — 
 
 " I will, I promise you. Keep your eyo 
 on me ; you shall see that I will go through 
 with whatever you enjoin upon me." 
 
 "Go then, and God be with you; you 
 have a heavier burden to carry than you 
 now think for. Go, and God be with you." 
 
 He laid his hand on the Baron's head ; 
 Pranken turned away, and full of humility 
 descended the staircase ; at the bottom he 
 gave the soldier a brotherly shake of the 
 hand. 
 
 After Pranken had gone, the soldier kept 
 looking at his hand, and then searching on 
 the floor ; he could not imagine that the 
 free and easy Pranken had not given him a 
 gold piece. No, that would have made a 
 ringing ; he must surely have given him 
 paper money ; but he could not lind it on 
 the clean stone-floor. 
 
 As if he had anticipated the soldier's 
 thoughts, Pranken returned, and departed 
 after putting a gold piece, into his hand. 
 
 He came by Nelly's house, where yes- 
 terday — it seemed to him a dream — no, it 
 cannot be ! — he had waited an hour. He 
 glanced up, and thought he saw some one 
 leaning at the open window, whose eyes 
 followed him; he fixed his look upon the 
 ground, and passed on. 
 
 He came to the parade-ground, listened 
 to the music, saw the officers standing in a 
 group, and — who can calculate the sinuous 
 course of tliought ? — he thought that the 
 watchword was now being given out to the 
 officers ; and he had a watchword too, 
 which no one else was to know, given to 
 him by the man behind the cathedral, who 
 had dashed him down as if he would break 
 every one of his bones. A smile went over 
 Pranken's features. 
 
 "Thou hast played well, but thou hast 
 only played," he said, recalling to mind the 
 Dean. '"You shall see that I can play 
 well too; I know my part, and I will yet 
 show you a little of my skill in playing." 
 
 Pride a^ain rose within him, and he could 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 429 
 
 not comprehend that he, Otto von Pranken, 
 had been such a mortified piece of humility. 
 But it is very well to have been so once. 
 
 He came to the Hotel Victoria in a half- 
 humble, half-conceited mood, and he now 
 felt a real training-day hunger. Such men- 
 tal emotions have this advantage, that they 
 make one hungry. 
 
 Pranken anticipated with a feeling of sat- 
 isfaction his dinner with the Baron, his 
 father-in-law. 
 
 As he stood at Sonnenkamp's door and 
 was about to ring, he heard some one in- 
 side saying in a loud tone : — 
 
 " But where's Herr von Pranken ? " 
 
 " Here ! " cried he, as he went in. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 HONOR LIES BLEEDING. 
 
 Sonnenkamp's decoration was lying at 
 Pranken's feet as he entered, and the first 
 thing be did was to stoop down and pick it 
 up. Joseph, left the room. Pranken bal- 
 anced the decoration as if it were a heavy 
 weight. Sonnenkamp seemed to be waiting 
 for Pranken to speak first, and when the 
 latter said, " I congratulate you, n broke 
 in : — 
 
 1 ' No, no — do not. I thank you for com- 
 ing to me again. I thank you sincerely — 
 very sincerely. You meant well by me. 1 ' 
 
 ''What's this? Meant well? * I don't 
 comprehend. " 
 
 Sonnenkamp stared at him ; the whole 
 city, the coachmen on the streets knew it, 
 and can this man be ignorant ? Does he 
 want to gull him ? 
 
 " Have you read the Journal ? " inquired 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " The Journal ! No ; what's in that ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp reached him the paper. 
 
 " Here — my diploma of nobility," he 
 said, turning round and looking out of the 
 window while Pranken was reading. He 
 did not want to look at the man's counte- 
 nance. 
 
 There was a long-continued silence in the 
 room, and then Sonnenkamp felt a hand 
 upon his shoulder. He turned round quick- 
 ly. What's the meaning of this ? will the 
 haughty young nobleman have a personal 
 struggle with him ? 
 
 "Herr Sonnenkamp," said Pranken, "I 
 am a nobleman " 
 
 "I know — I know. Take your hand 
 off of me, you'll soil it." 
 
 " And I am your friend," proceeded Pran- 
 ken calmly. " I cannot approve of what 
 you have done to provoke such a publica- 
 tion." ' 
 
 "Be brief, I've already heard sermoniz- 
 ing enough to-day." 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, I always go counter 
 to the, public sentiment; I respect you, not- 
 withstanding, and I love your daughter. I 
 am almost glad that I can show you by a 
 sacrifice how my intention " 
 
 "Herr von Pranken, you do not know 
 what you are doing. Your friends, your 
 family " 
 
 "I know the whole. Pooh! the virtuous 
 people may let the stones alone which they 
 would willingly throw at us. Whoever 
 merely winks with the eye shall receive my 
 challenge." 
 
 " I admire your courage, but I cannot 
 take advantage of it." 
 
 " Not take advantage of it ! You have 
 no right to decline it. I am your son as well 
 as Roland ; I stand by you, and now it shall 
 be shown who has genuine nobility and 
 bravery. I admire you — but we'll drop 
 this now. Has Roland got back vet ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then he has gone with the Ensign to 
 the dinner. I will go for him." 
 
 Sonnenkamp looked at him in amazement 
 as he drove olf ; he could not comprehend 
 it. He was now alone again. He mentally 
 accompanied the messengers he had sent 
 round the city, and out to the pleasure- 
 grounds. His thought went out in search 
 of Roland, but did not find him, any more 
 than fche messengers did. Roland had gone 
 with the Cabinetsrath's son, as Pranken had 
 conjectured, to the military club-house, 
 where a number of the garrison officers, 
 after the laborious review of the forenoon, 
 had ordered a dinner. There, was a great 
 deal of merriment and drinking, and they 
 drank the young American's health. Ro- 
 land was one of the liveliest among them. 
 There came in a straggling guest, and cried 
 out in the midst of the uproar, — 
 
 "Have you heard? The slave-trader 
 has been caught with a paper lasso." 
 
 " What's to pay? " was called out. 
 
 The new-comer read out of the paper : — 
 
 "A proposal, with all due deference, for 
 a coat of arms and a device for the enno- 
 bled slave-trader and slave-murderer, James 
 Henry Sonnenkamp, alias Banfield, of 
 Louisiana. 
 
 " It would give us peculiar satisfaction to 
 run a parallel between the young nobility 
 in the two hemispheres ; to live on the 
 labor of others is their motto ; 4 thou art 
 born to do nothing,' say the young nobility 
 of the Old as well as of the New World. 
 The Americans have also a superstitious 
 belief that there is some peculiar honor in 
 
430 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 being ennobled. Not because we share in 
 this belief, but rather in order to do some- 
 thing towards removing it, we have written 
 to America lor information about a certain 
 Herr Sonnenkamp. We have hitherto 
 been silent, and we should have been silent 
 longer and forever, out of regard for the 
 children of this outcast, for they do not 
 deserve to bear the load of guilt. We are 
 no friends of the nobility : we regard this 
 institution as of the past and as dead ; but 
 the nobles are our German fellow-citizens, 
 also, and a part of our nation. As citizens, 
 merely, we have no power to thrust out a 
 man from our community, and we should 
 have felt obliged to let this man alone ; but 
 now, we are ready to furnish the evidence 
 that the man who calls himself Sonnenkamp, 
 and lives at Villa Eden, has been one of 
 the most merciless slave-traders and slave- 
 murderers. Then proceed, O German 
 nobles, and ennoble him, — give him a coat- 
 of-arms. The heralds of our editorial office 
 recommend as a device " 
 
 "Stop!" screamed out the Ensign, for 
 Roland had fallen senseless from his chair. 
 
 He was carried out of the room, and re- 
 stored to consciousness. Fortunately, a 
 carriage now drove up, from which Pranken 
 got out. Roland was lifted into it, and 
 they drove to the hotel. 
 
 Shaking with a fever fit, and wrapped up 
 in a soldier's cloak, Roland sat in one cor- 
 ner of the carriage. He would occasionally 
 open his eyes, and then close them again. 
 
 Pranken told him that he ought to despise 
 the world, but Roland was silent; once only 
 he heaved a deep sigh and exclaimed, — 
 
 "OEric " 
 
 They reached the hotel. Joseph was 
 waiting before the door. The first word 
 that Roland spoke was a request' to be left 
 alone. He went up the steps with Joseph. 
 
 "You are to go to your father, 1 ' said 
 Joseph. 
 
 Roland nodded, but when he had gone 
 up-stairs he hastened to his room and 
 locked the door. 
 
 Joseph went to Sonnenkamp and told him 
 that Roland had returned. 
 
 " lie is to come to me," he said. 
 
 " lie has locked himself in." 
 
 " I las he his pistols with him ? " 
 
 " No, 1 have them with me." 
 
 Sonnenkamp went to Roland's room and 
 knocked ; but there was no answer. He 
 begged and entreated Roland to answer 
 him, but Roland made no sound. 
 
 "If you do not open immediately. I will 
 shoot myself before your door ! " cried 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Pranken, who was with him, said: — 
 
 " Roland ! Roland ! will you be guilty of 
 the death of your father ? " 
 
 " Open ! open ! " moaned Sonnenkamp 
 before the door. 
 
 The bolt was drawn back, and Roland 
 stood rigid, looking at his father, who 
 stretched out his arms toward him ; but 
 Roland remained motionless, with lips 
 pressed together, and eyes glaring like one 
 insane. 
 
 "My son!" cried Sonnenkamp. "My 
 only son ! my beloved son ! my child ! for- 
 give me ! forgive me ! " 
 
 Roland rushed toward his father, grasped 
 his hand, and wept over it. 
 
 " Oh, my child, your tears on my hand! 
 Look, — this wound, this scar, — look, the 
 tears of my child heal it, the tears of my 
 child alone ! " 
 
 Throwing himself upon Roland's breast, 
 he exclaimed : — 
 
 " You, my son, you will not despise your 
 father ! " 
 
 While he spoke, his heart throbbed 
 violently, and, for the first time in his life, 
 Roland saw his father weep. He embraced 
 him and wept with him. 
 
 Father and son then sat opposite each 
 other speechless and motionless, until at 
 last Roland said : — 
 
 "Father, there is one way of salvation — 
 only one way of salvation ! " 
 
 " I am ready, speak, my son." 
 
 " I know it, father — I know it ! That 
 sublimest One said to the youth, ' Go and 
 give away all that thou hast, and follow me.' 
 And Parker has said that this disgrace must 
 be wiped out ; and Benjamin Franklin would 
 say : ' Thou art free, be not a slave to thy- 
 self ! ' Cast all away from you, father, let 
 us be poor — poor ! Will you ? " 
 
 " I thank you, my son," replied Sonnen- 
 kamp ; he was easier when he saw that Ro- 
 land had relieved his feelings. " You have 
 a stout heart, a bold spirit, you have noble 
 courage ; Herr Eric has taught you well — 
 grand — brave — I thank him — I thank you 
 — that is fine — that is right — the best ! " 
 
 " Then you agree to it, father? " 
 
 " My son, I do not wish to make any 
 pledges — not any ; but I promise you, 
 that you shall be satisfied with what I shall 
 do ; just in this moment I cannot determine 
 anything." 
 
 " No, now ; this very moment! it is the 
 grandest, the only moment ! It must be 
 done now ! After this moment is death, 
 night, damnation, distraction, misery ! Oh, 
 lather? you must be strong ! I will work for 
 you, for my mother, for Manna, for myself! 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 And Eric will be with us ! I know not what 
 can be done, but it will do cast every- 
 thing away from you ! " 
 
 " My son, whatever I have of unright- 
 eous possessions, so called, those I will put 
 away. I consider you, my son, no longer 
 in your minority, you are more, you are my 
 brother, you are a man, you are judge of 
 my actions, you are to give your directions 
 — everything with you, through you, out 
 of your pure, your blessed heart, out of 
 your unbroken — yes, your friend Eric, 
 our friend Eric, shall also determine — but 
 let us not come to the final determination 
 at this moment. 11 
 
 And again father and son sat opposite to 
 each other in silence, until Roland began : — 
 
 " Father, let us go home to-day. 11 
 
 " Xo, not to-day. We must both, first 
 of all, get some strength. 11 
 
 Pranken had withdrawn into the adjoin- 
 ing room ; he now sent Joseph to say that 
 it was time for dinner. Roland was shocked 
 at the idea of eating anything now ; but 
 Sonnenkamp swore that he would not put a 
 morsel into his mouth, although he was al- 
 most famishing, if Roland did not sit with 
 them at table, and eat at least a few mouth- 
 fuls. Roland yielded. 
 
 The Cabinetsrath's place was empty, 
 showing, what henceforth would be wanting 
 to their table-enjoyment. Pranken beck- 
 oned to Joseph, who understood what he 
 meant and quickly removed the plate. 
 
 Sonnenkamp now said that he expected 
 the Cabinetsrath would probably give up 
 the Villa he had received ; and Roland now 
 learned how bribery had been employed, 
 and how corrupt and selfish men were. 
 Sonnenkamp took particular notice what an 
 impression this made upon Roland, and a 
 triumphant expression passed over, his 
 countenance. It's well so ! Roland is to 
 become acquainted with the whole baseness^ 
 of human beings, to find out that all people 
 are more or less abject, and then what his 
 father lias done will gradually seem to him 
 of less account, and be painted in fainter 
 colors. 
 
 A choice table was set, but the three ate 
 as if they were at a funeral repast, with the 
 corpse lying in the next room — the mortal 
 remains of worldly honor. Neither gave ex- 
 pression to the feeling which each of them 
 had ; they ate and drank, for the body 
 must have nourishment, in order to bear up 
 under this new heart-ache-. 
 
 Father and son slept in the same cham- 
 ber, but neither spoke, for neither of them 
 wanted to keep the other from sleep, which 
 would alone wrap them in oblivion. 
 
 " Don't give up! " said Sonnenkamp at 
 
 last, as he fell asleep. Roland slept also, 
 but after an hour he awoke and tossed 
 about restlessly. The darkness seemed to 
 stand like a black wall before him, and he 
 sat up as if in delirium. 
 
 To lose one's senses, one^ reason — yes, 
 to lose them ! they are suddenly gone, you 
 know not when, you know not where ; you 
 only know they are not here, and they are 
 no longer in your power." But if you could 
 only find them ! Your thoughts are no 
 longer under youv own control; they come 
 and go, they combine and disperse accord- 
 ing to their own pleasure ; and yet you in- 
 wardly feel that this will not last, it cannot 
 last ; that the time must come N when you 
 will once more have the mastery. 
 
 "If it were not night! if it were only 
 not night ! " groaned Roland to himself, as 
 he awakened in a wandering mood from a 
 short hour's sleep. For the first time in his 
 life, he awoke in the night distressed and 
 sad at heart, with the whole world dark and 
 impenetrable before him. 
 
 " Oh, if it were not night ! if it only were 
 not night! 11 he said to himself again. He 
 thought of what Eric's mother had once 
 said : "In the night-time everything is more 
 terrible ; day comes, .and with the daylight 
 all sufferings, both of the body as well as 
 those of the mind, are less formidable ; the 
 eye then looks upon the things of the world, 
 and the sunlight illumines and enlivens 
 everything. 1 ' 
 
 " It will be day again ! 11 he comforted 
 himself at last, and sank away into sleep 
 out of all his brooding fancies. 
 
 Early in the morning they started with 
 Pranken for the Villa. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 SICK AT HEART. 
 
 The morning air was fresh and cool. 
 Bertram was not on the box of the carriage, 
 but a hired coachman sat next to Lootz. 
 Roland knew the horses, and wanted to take 
 the stranger's place, but Sonnenkamp said 
 in a hoarse voice : — 
 
 "No, my child, don't leave me. Sit with 
 me. Stay with me. 11 
 
 Roland obeyed, and took a seat in the 
 close carriage, with his father and Pranken. 
 They drove in silence through the city, each 
 thinking: When, and under what circum- 
 stances, will you ever come here again ? 
 Roland looked out as they were passing the 
 pleasure-grounds, where in the summer they 
 had excited so much attention at the 
 officers' entertainment. Withered leaves 
 were lying on the tables, and everything 
 was bare and desolate. Sighing and shut- 
 
432 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ting his eves, Roland leaned back in the 
 corner of the carriage. The bloom of 
 youth had laded out of his countenance 
 over night, and everything was wilted like 
 a flower touched by the frost. 
 
 They drove along, for a time, without 
 speaking. Roland, however, soon heard his 
 father making himself merry over the un- 
 adulterated rascality of mankind, and one 
 and another person who were generally 
 spoken of with respect and held in high 
 estimation were spoken of as hardly fit to 
 associate with galley-slaves. A beginning 
 was made with the Cabinetsrath, who had al- 
 lowed himself to be bribed in such a way, 
 and yet could act as if there had never been 
 anything of the kind. And so, in succession, 
 the good name of everybody was torn into 
 shreds. 
 
 Pranken let Sonnenkamp expend his 
 violence and rage,- not saying a word even 
 when Clodwig was attacked. What was the 
 use ! It is the delight of one suffering un- 
 der mortification, above all one who is suf- 
 fering through his own fault, to bring down 
 others to his own level. Roland was deeply 
 troubled, and his heart grew cold at the 
 thought of being able to hold his own posi- 
 tion only by being made thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with, and keeping constantly be- 
 f'or his eyes, the darker side of all human 
 beings. 
 
 Tenderly and cautiously, Pranken began 
 to bring into notice the idea that a firm 
 religious belief was the only adequate sup- 
 port, and he openly inveighed against those 
 who would withdraw this support, the only 
 real one, and the highest, from one who re- 
 lied upon it. Roland knew that Eric was 
 intended, but he did not let it be seen. 
 Pranken went farther, and said that Eric's 
 father, whom mother and son decked out as 
 a demi-god, was a man who at the univer- 
 sity had no scholars, and at whom all the 
 learned men had shrugged their shoulders. 
 
 Gloomy thoughts, like cloudy forms, 
 thronging in succession, overcast the soul 
 of the youth. One thought prevailed over 
 all others, and allowed him no rest: — Yes- 
 terday, honor was everything; to-day, it 
 has no'existence. What is honor? It is 
 the seasoning in each particle of life's food, 
 and without it existence is tasteless. This 
 thought startled Roland as if he had seen 
 some terrific vision. He saw the clouds 
 actually before him, in the shape of dense 
 volumes of smoke from Sonnenkam p's 
 cigar. A voice cried out, in mock-merri- 
 ment, from the midst of the cloud : The 
 people in the whole region round ought to 
 give him a special vote of thanks, for now 
 they were, in comparison with him, snow- 
 
 white angels, and all that they needed was a 
 pair of wings. All the little men and little wo- 
 man could say : _ Lord, I thank thee that I 
 am not like this Sonnenkamp here. "I 
 am truly a godsend to you ; thank me, O 
 world ! " 
 
 This humor pleased Pranken, and he said 
 laughing, that no one, a year hence, after 
 one had become accustomed to it, would 
 think anything of the present troubles ; and 
 he would urgently entreat that not a word 
 should be said about selling the villa and 
 moving away. 
 
 Sonnenkamp gave Pranken a nudge, but 
 he had no idea that this communication, 
 although it gave Roland anew the feeling 
 of homelessness, affected him far less than 
 the jeering outburst of his father concerning 
 the thanks due him from the world. 
 
 A disintegration of the thoughts and 
 feelings of the youth had taken place, and 
 it was impossible to anticipate what changes 
 might be brought about in these different 
 elements through the introduction of a new 
 agency. A feeling had been awakened 
 within him, that he must bear an indelible 
 stain for his whole lifetime. 
 
 The mists dissolved, the day was bright, 
 the sun shone warmly, but Sonnenkamp was 
 chilly, and wrapped himself in his cloak. 
 He sat in the carriage, staring out upon the 
 road, but he saw nothing except the shadow 
 of one of the horses, and this shadow was 
 moving its legs to and fro. Is everything 
 only a shadow in like manner ? Is what 
 moves you and draws you onward just 
 such a shadow as this ? 
 
 A vehicle coming towards them raised a 
 cloud of dust, at which Sonnenkamp stared. 
 Whenever you look at this dust, you feel 
 as if you must be smothered by it; but when 
 you are in the midst of it, turn your face 
 away, and it is not so bad after all. Per- 
 haps what has now happened is just such a 
 whirling cloud of dust. Turn your face 
 away. 
 
 He saw the shepherds with their sheep 
 upon the stubble-field, and asked himself: 
 Is that a better life ? He wanted to sleep ; 
 he threw away his cigar and shut his eyes. 
 It seemed to him as if the carriage were all 
 the time going down hill. But when he 
 opened his eyes, they were on the level 
 road. 
 
 Again he shut his eyes, for this was the 
 only way he could be alone. 
 
 And now he really went to sleep. Roland 
 gazed in silence out into the bright sunshine. 
 Ah, the sight of nature is helpful only to 
 the joyous, or to one who is beginning to 
 rally from sorrow ; she brings no consola- 
 tion to the heavy laden and the deeply 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 433 
 
 saddened spirit; her changelessness, her 
 unsympathizing and steadfast life, seem al- 
 most insulting. 
 
 Up to this time, Roland had lived in that 
 twilight realm which separates youth from 
 manhood, and n%w the period of youth was 
 closed. His pride had been turned to 
 shame, but he was mature enough to forget 
 himself soon, and to direct his regards to 
 his father, who is doubly unhappy ; unhappy 
 on his own account, and on account of hav- 
 ing brought harm upon others — upon those 
 nearest to him. 
 
 Sonnenkamp slept ; but in his dreamy 
 state between wakefulness and sleep, the 
 rattling carriage-wheels seemed to him the 
 clanking chains of fettered slaves. 
 
 He woke suddenly, and stared as if be- 
 wildered. Where was he ? What had 
 happened ? He wrapped himself in his 
 cloak again, and hid his face. 
 
 Pranken bent toward Roland, whispering 
 to him : — 
 
 " I know how you are inwardly shattered, 
 but there is one cure for you, a grand act, 
 the most sublime deed." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Speak lower, don't wake up your father. 
 The one thing for you to do, — it is grand, — 
 the great and noble thing for you is to enter 
 the Papal army ; this is the only thing to 
 be done. This is the last, the highest 
 tower to be defended now, and if that falls, 
 the atheists and communists have won 
 the day. I would do it myself, if " 
 
 " Yes, 11 interrupted Roland, " that 
 would be the thing ! We give away all 
 our property to the Holy Father, and he 
 issues a bull in favor of the abolition of 
 slavery. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp could not keep asleep any 
 longer. 
 
 " Tha^s right, my young fellow, 11 he 
 cried. " That's right ! the Pope ought to 
 do it. But do you believe that he will do 
 now for money — even were it ten times as 
 much — what he has not done of himself? 
 The idea is a grand one, Herr von Pranken, 
 ver}' grand and very — very shrewd. 11 
 
 There was a little raillery in this com- 
 mendation, for he thought : You want to get 
 the whole inheritance^ and hand over my 
 son to the knife. 
 
 " But my dear, noble, high-aspiring 
 young friend," was what he said aloud, 
 " honestly, do you believe that the Pope 
 will do what our Roland expects ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 They drove on in silence. They saw the 
 Villa in the distance, and on the tower the 
 banner of the American Union was flying, ! 
 
 together with the green and yellow flag of 
 the country. 
 
 When they came to the green cottage, 
 Roland asked to get out of the carriage, 
 and permission was given. 
 
 Roland went into the garden, where a 
 bright voice called to him : — 
 
 "Mutual congratulations! we congratu- 
 late you, and you should congratulate us, 
 too ; we are betrothed." 
 
 Lina and the Architect were coming, 
 holding each other's hand, through the 
 meadow from the Villa. Lina left her 
 lover and came up to Roland, saying : — 
 
 " We didn't want to wait until the dedi- 
 cation of the castle, we have our celebration 
 by ourselves. Oh, Roland, how beautiful 
 and how happy everything is in the world ! 
 But why don^ you speak ? Why do you 
 make up such a melancholy face ? " - 
 
 Roland could only wave her off, and 
 hurried into the house. The betrothed re- 
 mained standing in the garden, sorely 
 puzzled, when Lina said : — 
 
 " Oh, Albert, there's no good in being 
 here. Nobody welcomed us at the Villa, 
 Manna was not to be seen, Herr Dournay 
 isn't there, and Roland runs away. Come, 
 we'll quit the whole premises. Forgive me 
 for having brought you here before going 
 anywhere else. I thought these were the 
 people to whom I should make known my 
 happiness in the very first place. Come, 
 we'll go to your castle, and spend the 
 whole day for once ; you shall be a solitary 
 knight, and I'll be a castle-maiden. Come, 
 I thought there was to be a betrothal here 
 to-day, too ; but it doesn't look like it at 
 all, and there's something frightful the 
 matter." 
 
 Lina and her betrothed went together to 
 the castle, up through the vineyard, but 
 they were detained at the Major's, who was 
 standing utterly helpless by the garden- 
 hedge. 
 
 Such a thing had never happened as took 
 place to-day. 
 
 Fräulein Milch had locked herself in her 
 room ; she must have met with something 
 very extraordinary. 
 
 The Major was perfectly delighted to 
 hear of the betrothal, but he only said : — 
 
 " Ah, there might be one down therein 
 the Villa, too; but I'm afraid — I'm afraid 
 we'll hear some bad news from there." 
 
 The Major insisted upon the betrothed 
 couple taking a seat in his arbor, saying 
 that Fräulein Milch would soon be down. 
 
 The Fraulein was sitting in her chamber 
 alone, for the first time in a sore struggle. 
 The world had been a matter of indifference 
 
434 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OX TIIE RHINE. 
 
 to her, and only of account so far as some- 
 thing could be obtained from it agreeable 
 to the Major. She found the neighborhood 
 very friendly, and she was grateful to the 
 soil, for the Major had a good digestion, 
 and elsewhere he suffered from dyspepsia. 
 She was also grateful to the Rhine*, which 
 occasionally furnished a nice fish, and she 
 would nod to the mountains, as if she would 
 say : That's right ! just produce good wine ; 
 the Major likes to drink it when new, but 
 he mustn't drink too much of it. Thus was 
 the Fräulein kindly disposed towards man 
 and beast, towards water and plants ; it 
 was a matter of indifference that nobody 
 troubled himself about her. She had stren- 
 uously declined every intimate connection, 
 and now, through the Professorin, she had 
 been drawn more among people, and had 
 to-day been so deeply mortified. She had 
 known Bella for a long time, although very 
 distantly, and she had disliked her for a 
 long time, although very distantly ; but 
 what she had experienced to-day was some- 
 thing wholly novel, and it grieved her 
 sorely. 
 
 " 0," said she to herself, " O, Frau 
 Countess, you are highly virtuous, virtuous 
 in v the extreme, most respectfully virtuous, 
 and beautiful too, you are ; but I was once 
 young and beautiful, and no one has ever 
 ventured to give me an uncivil word ; I 
 have gone through the streets unattended 
 by a servant, I was my own attendant, my 
 own protector, and my own support. O 
 Fran Countess, you stand very far up on 
 the list of rank, I don't know but that you 
 ought to be addressed as Your Highness ! 
 O Frau Countess, take care, there is 
 another list of nobility which the Major 
 ought to give you a glimpse of ; no, not he ; 
 it would mortify him to death ; but Herr 
 Dournay, he must do it. No — nobody — 
 only myself. 1 ' 
 
 And just as she had become composed, 
 the Major again knocked, crying : — 
 
 "Fraulein Milch! dear good Rosa," he 
 added in a whisper, " Rosie, Rosalie! ' 
 
 " What do you want ?" the Major heard 
 laughingly asked. 
 
 " Oli heavens! it's all right now you are 
 laughing again. There are two good peo- 
 ple here, the Architect, and Lina the Jus- 
 tice's daughter; they are betrothed, and 
 have come to receive our congratulations. 
 Do come, join us in the garden, and bring 
 right off a bottle and four glasses. 11 
 
 Fräulein Milch opened the door. The 
 Major asked : — 
 
 " Mayn't I know what has been % the mat- 
 ter'wiih you ? " 
 
 "You shall know, sure enough, but 
 
 don't ask me any more now. So the 
 young people are betrothed, and at the 
 house ? I must dress myself up a little, 
 and I'll come down immediately." 
 
 "So do. That's nice." 
 
 Friiulein Milch was delivered from all 
 her own trouble, when the duty was en- 
 joined upon her of rejoicing with the joyful ; 
 and the betrothed couple forgot the castle, 
 and remained for hours sitting with the 
 Major and Friiulein Milch in the arbor. 
 
 Then the journal .came, and the Major 
 begged to bo excused for reading it before 
 his guests ; he received the paper after the 
 burgomaster, the school-master, and the 
 barber had read it, and so he could keep 
 it. As he had nothing more .to do with the 
 world, it made no difference whether he 
 learned an hour or two sooner or later what 
 had happened. 
 
 " Oh, here's a great black mark," ex- 
 claimed Lina. 
 
 "That's the burgomaster's mark," said 
 the Major. " Friiulein Milch, would you 
 read to me ? There must be something 
 very special." 
 
 The Friiulein took the paper, but she 
 covered her face with her hand after she 
 had looked into it. 
 
 "What's the matter? You read, dear 
 Lina." 
 
 Lina read the bitter paragraph by Pro- 
 fessor Crutius ; she wanted to stop after 
 the first few lines, but the Major begged : 
 
 " Read on ; do read on." 
 
 She read on to the end. 
 
 " O Thou really good Builder of all the 
 worlds, what queer material you've put into 
 the construction of the world ! Good 
 heavens ! there's' something frightful about 
 a newspaper ; now everybodv knows about 
 this." 
 
 Friiulein Milch was just on the point of 
 saving that this was no news to her, but 
 she had the self-command, doubly difficult 
 for a woman, to keep from telling what she 
 knew. It was better to say nothing, as she 
 would thus escape a long explanation to 
 the Major why she had said nothing about 
 it a long time ago. Not till the Major 
 begged herto'go to the Professorin, who 
 would be greatly troubled by this communi- 
 cation, did she say : — 
 
 "The Professorin, as well as I, knew it a 
 long time ago." 
 
 In his bewilderment, the Major did not 
 ask how it happened that she knew; he 
 only opened his eyes wider. He had said 
 to her a great many good and kind things, 
 but the best of all was when he observed : — 
 
 " Yes. You might belong to our Broth- 
 erhood, you can keep a secret." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 435 
 
 After a while the Major continued : — 
 
 " Look, children, down below there is 
 the wonderfully beautiful Villa with its 
 parks, its gardens, and with its haillions in- 
 side the "house — ha ! and Roland and 
 Manna. Fräulein Milch, don't try to pre- 
 vent me. I must go down there, for no- 
 body knows what's going on there, and I 
 must do something to help them. Don't 
 say anything against it, Fräulein Milch, I 
 entreat you.' 1 
 
 " I haven't said anything to hinder you ; 
 on the contrary, I think you ought to go. 11 
 
 Before she had finished speaking, a mes- 
 senger came from the Villa for the Major 
 to go there. 
 
 Lina wanted to join him, thinking she 
 might be of some assistance to Manna ; but 
 the Major said that the Professorin and 
 Aunt Claudine were enough already, and 
 Lina ought not to spoil now any of her hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Just as the Major was about to set off, a 
 voice cried : — 
 
 " Herr Major, just stop. I'm coming." 
 
 With flushed face, and out of breath, 
 Knopf came up. 
 
 "Do you know it?" asked the Major. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and that's the reason I've 
 come. Perhaps I can do something at the 
 Villa." 
 
 "Good! I'm going, so come with me. 
 No, you stay here, stay with the Fräulein. 
 I'll have you sent for if you're needed." 
 
 And so the Major walked down the 
 mountain, and the four who remained fol- 
 lowed him with affectionate looks. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE TRIUMPH OF THE OPPRESSED. 
 
 Roland entered the cottage, and found 
 the Professorin, Eric, and Manna in grave 
 conversation together ; they had imparted 
 the dreadful secret to each other, and what 
 weighed the most heavily upon them was 
 the thought how Roland would bear it when 
 he should learn of it. He now came in and 
 said : — 
 
 " Manna, we arc disgraced children !" 
 
 The three hastened to him, and affection- 
 ately embraced and kissed him. 
 
 " Be strong, brother ! " said Eric, throw- 
 ing his arms around him. " I can blow you 
 strong, my brother." 
 
 Hiawatha's saying echoed in Roland's 
 soul, and he looked around on all sides, as 
 if bewildered. He sat down speechless on 
 a chair, and the three dear to him sat in si- 
 lence near him. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, meanwhile, had got out at 
 the entrance of the park, and walked to- 
 
 wards the villa; it seemed to him as if the 
 ground would give way under his feet, and 
 the house and trees vanish. Are you sick? 
 he asked himself. You are not to be sick ! 
 He whistled softly to himself; his gigantic 
 strength still held out. 
 
 Here everything is as it was, and you 
 yourself are here, too, he said, exerting a 
 powerful control over himself, as he stood 
 upon his property and grounds. He seemed 
 to be wrestling with a hostile world en- 
 listed against him, and he repelled the en- 
 compassing foes with heroic strength ; they 
 should not cut off the sources of his con- 
 fidence and power. He felt himself well 
 armed and equipped. Pranken is right ; 
 one must not let himself be cowed, one must 
 bid defiance to the world, and then it will 
 bow itself in humility, and in a year — no, 
 much sooner, all will come and flatter him. 
 
 He remained standing on the steps, hold- 
 ing on by the railing, for all his strength 
 seemed exhausted ; but drawing a deep 
 breath, and plucking up his courage, as it 
 were, he soon recovered his self-possession. 
 He looked about without constraint, he had 
 become so accustomed to feigning, that he 
 was determined no one should see in him 
 any trace of disturbance. 
 
 He went up the steps with a firm and 
 steady stride. He took Pran ken's arm, and 
 told him in a candid tone how highly he 
 esteemed him and admired his strength, of 
 which he already felt the elfect in himself. 
 
 He went with Pranken to his room, nod- 
 ding to everything which still held its place 
 here, and should hold it firmly for the time 
 to come. He requested his son — so he 
 called Pranken — his son, of whom he was 
 proud, to impart what had happened to 
 Frau Ceres, the very first thing, in his quiet 
 and self-possessed, his easy, his all-subdu- 
 ing manner that he so much admired. 
 
 " Make no reply if she storms. This 
 stormy outburst is no longer formidable." 
 
 In this declaration there was a sort of 
 tranquillizing influence which Sonnenkamp 
 himself felt. It is better that the whole 
 world should stand up in arms against him, 
 than to be forever and forever under the 
 dominion of this crafty, threatening, and 
 annoying woman. Now her weapon was 
 gone, and the dagger whieh she had always 
 kept hidden was now unsheathed in the eyes 
 of all the world, and was in every hand. 
 
 Pranken went to Frau Ceres ; he had to 
 wait a long time in the ante-room, but at 
 last Fräulein Perini came out. 
 
 Pranken briefly told her that the secret 
 she had confided to him, and which he had 
 kept so faithfully, was now made public. 
 
 "So soon?" said Fräulein Perini; and 
 
436 
 
 THE COUNTßY-IIOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 when Pranken inquired how Frau Ceres 
 •would be likely to receive the annihilation 
 of her hopes of being ennobled, and the 
 whole detestable uproar in the world, she 
 replied, smiling, that she could not tell, for 
 Frau Ceres was now suffering under a ter- 
 rible trial of a wholly different kind. 
 
 She could hardly go on, ' she was so 
 choked with laughter, but finally it came 
 out. 
 
 Yesterday morning, Frau Ceres in some 
 incomprehensible way had broken off her 
 most beautiful nail, a real prodigy of most 
 careful cherishing, and she was utterly in- 
 consolable. 
 
 Pranken could not help joining in the 
 laugh. He accompanied Fraulein Perini 
 into the room. 
 
 Frau Ceres gave him her left hand to 
 kiss, holding the right carefully concealed. 
 She asked whether Pranken had brought 
 with him the armorial device, and pointed 
 to an embroidery frame on which she want- 
 ed at once to work the coat-of-arms, and 
 also to an altar-cloth, whose border was 
 already completed. 
 
 Pranken now broke the news to her in a 
 very careful manner. 
 
 "And he always said I was stupid! I 
 am cleverer than he," Frau Ceres burst out; 
 "I always told him that Europe was no 
 place for us, and that we ought to have 
 remained where we were. Hasn't he caught 
 it now ? He's ashamed to come himself, 
 and so he has sent you. He's ashamed, 
 because I, the simpleton, who had never 
 learned anything, knew the affair so much 
 better than he did." 
 
 In this first moment, a mischievous joy 
 seemed to be Frau Ceres' predominant feel- 
 ing ; the man who had always treated her 
 as a feeble plaything must now see that her 
 ideas were more correct than his. 
 
 She sat long in silence, moving her lips, 
 and with a scornful, exultant expression, as 
 if she were uttering to her husband all her 
 present thoughts. Pranken thought it in- 
 
 cumbent on him to add, that in a short time 
 the family would be as much respected as 
 before. 
 
 " Do vou believe that we shall be enno- 
 bled then ? " 
 
 Pranken was perplexed what reply to 
 make, for it seemed as if the woman did not 
 yet comprehend what had happened. He 
 evaded a direct answer, and only said that 
 he remained true to the family, and regarded 
 himself as a son of the house. , 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow ought to be the wed- 
 ding. Here in Eutope, you have so many 
 formalities. I'll drive to church with you. 
 But where's Manna? She has horribly 
 neglected me." 
 
 " But, my dear Baron, it is well, this con- 
 nection with the tutor's family will now 
 come to an end. Don't let it continue any 
 longer, dear Baron." 
 
 She requested Fräulein Perini to tell 
 Manna to come to her. 
 
 Pranken could not comprehend how this 
 woman, half childish, half cunning, some- 
 times malicious, sometimes peevish, could 
 be -also sometimes so affectionate ; but 
 there was no time now to try to solve 
 the riddle. He besought the Mother — such 
 was the appellation he now gave to Frau 
 Ceres — to leave Manna alone for a few 
 days ; he would first see her alone, and 
 then' they would come together to the mother 
 and ask her blessing. 
 
 " I give you my blessing now," said Frau 
 Ceres, forgetting herself so far as to give 
 him both hands. 
 
 She told him that Bella had been there, 
 and had hardly shown herself to her: that 
 she had come, and then had driven away 
 again in a manner that she couldn't com- 
 prehend at all. 
 
 Here a shot was heard. 
 
 "He has shot himself; he has done it 
 now ! " cried Frau Ceres, in a singular tone ; 
 it was not lamentation, nor laughter, but 
 something peculiar, utterly inexplicable. 
 
 Pranken hurried away. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 437 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE HAND-WRITING ON THE WALL. 
 
 SONNENKAMP had seated himself in his 
 room, and the letter-bag lay before him, 
 but he did not open it. What matters it 
 what the outside world desired ! One 
 thought was uppermost, that he must do 
 something, something startling, something 
 that would shatter the whole world to pieces. 
 What? He did not yet know. He sat 
 speechless in the midst of the fairest land- 
 scape, with the windows darkened, as in a 
 cellar. 
 
 No, not harm thyself, that wouldn't do! 
 anything but weakness, cried he to him- 
 self. Why be afraid of this old sentimental 
 spinster, Europe, with her fine modes of 
 speech ! What hast thou done ? Thou 
 hast acted with due reflection, and thou 
 standest by what thou hast done. It is well 
 that there's nothing more to conceal, that 
 everything is known. 
 
 He rose and went into the park. From a 
 lofty acacia-tree one of the main branches 
 was hanging down, which had been broken, 
 so that the tree was like a bird that had lost 
 one of its wings. The head-gardener told 
 Sonnenkamp that a gust of wind had swept 
 over the park the night before. Sonnen- 
 kamp nodded several times as he looked at 
 the tree, and then indulged in his inaudible 
 whistle. 
 
 A gust of wind may break down a tree 
 like this, but a man like him stands firm. 
 
 He went farther on, and coming to the 
 fruit-garden, saw the splendid show of fruit 
 upon the trees ; glass bell-shaped vessels, 
 filled with water, were hung by wires un- 
 derneath the different fruits, so that they 
 might be continually supplied with moisture, 
 and be made to grow. All this you can 
 effect; you can direct nature, why not man? 
 why not destiny ? He gazed at the huge 
 fruits as if they could give him an answer, 
 but they remained dumb. He stood for a 
 long time before one tree, that had been 
 trained to the shape of a coronet, and stared 
 at the branches. 
 
 In a spider's-web stretched between two 
 twigs a fly was struggling — whew ! how 
 convulsively it struggled ! perhaps it moan- 
 ed also, but we couldn't hear it. Yes, 
 high and noble fly, you have a fate no dif- 
 ferent from that of the human fly. Every- 
 where spiders — yes, spiders! And you are 
 better off, you will be speedily eaten. 
 
 Sonnenkamp struck his forehead with his 
 clenched fist : he was angry with his 
 brain, that led him into such subtile specula- 
 tions. 
 
 He turned away and went back to his 
 room. The best thing you can do, he said 
 to himself, is to make a speedy exit ; then 
 are your children free, and you are free 
 too. He took a revolver from the wall 
 just as some one knocked at the door. 
 
 " What's the matter? what do you 
 want? " A groom gave his name, and Son- 
 nenkamp opened the door. The groom in- 
 ' formed him that his black horse ffcttled in 
 the throat and foamed at the mouth ; that 
 he was sick, and they could not tell what 
 ailed him. 
 
 " Indeed ? " cried Sonnenkamp. " Have 
 you not walked the horse out for exercise ? 
 Has any one ridden him ? " 
 
 "Yes; the Herr Captain ordered the 
 horse to be saddled the night before, and 
 was. a long time gone with him. 1 ' 
 
 " So ! Come, 111 cure him speedily." 
 He went down to the stable, looked grimly 
 at the horse, and then shot him through the 
 head. The horse gave one hoarse rattle, 
 and fell headlong. 
 
 "So! it's all over now! cried Son- 
 nenkamp. 44 Now you are free! " 
 
 As he was leaving the stable, Pranken 
 came up. 
 
 " What have you done ? " 
 
 " Pooh ! I've shot a horse, and every one 
 who doesn't mind," he said in a loud tone, 
 so that all the servants might hear, " knows 
 what to expect." 
 
 He ordered the groom to saddle another 
 horse. 
 
 Joseph came with the inquiry from Frau 
 Ceres as to what had happened. 
 
 Sonnenkamp sent word to Frau Ceres 
 that he had shot the black horse. He 
 smiled when he heard Pranken's report of 
 his wife's state of feeling ; he avoided going 
 to her, and he experienced a sort of grate- 
 ful joy towards destiny, that the large house 
 rendered it possible for each of the inmates 
 to live by himself. 
 
 He went to see the Professorin ; it was 
 hard for him to meet her eye and that of 
 Eric, but it must be done ; he must arm 
 himself to look all men boldly in the face. 
 Was he a coward ? had he not bid defiance 
 to the world, and was he now to be afraid 
 of this tutor's family ? 
 
 He entered the green cottage. He ex- 
 tended his hand neither to Eric nor his 
 mother, and only asked where the children 
 were. He received the answer that they 
 had locked themselves in the library. 
 
 He said in a light way to Eric and his 
 mother that he had been especially desi- 
 rous for them to know the whole ; it would 
 now be seen who was faithful. Turning to 
 Eric, he said : — > 
 
438 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " I have shot the black horse, which you 
 rode last night. What is mine is mine." 
 
 He went quietly away ; he stood some 
 time near the library door, and heard Ro- 
 land and Manna talking, but without distin- 
 guishing a word. 
 
 He knocked twice, but there was no an- 
 swer, and he turned away. Returning to the 
 villa, and mounting a horse, he rode to the 
 Cabinetsratlfs villa, for he wished to give 
 these people a piece of his mind. And as 
 he was riding along, it seemed to him as if 
 the groom "behind him suddenly reined up, 
 and then as if there were two following him. 
 Who is this unknown companion ? He 
 forced himself not to look round. The 
 horse trembled under the pressure of his 
 legs. He reached the country-house of the 
 Cabinetsrath, stopped at the gate, and asked 
 after the minister's wife. 
 
 The gardener said that she was not there, 
 and that she would not be there any more. 
 
 What does this mean ? He laughed 
 aloud when he was informed that the villa, 
 with all its appurtenances, had been sold 
 the day before to the American consul at 
 the capital. He is outwitted ; these peo- 
 ple are his neighbors no longer, and there 
 can nothing be said about demanding back 
 the property bought at a merely nominal 
 sum. And after the first flush of anger, 
 Sonnenkamp experienced a peculiar satis- 
 faction in the thought that there were so 
 many sagacious people in the world ; it is a 
 pleasant thing that there are so many foxes 
 and lynxes to be found everywhere, and 
 und»er their own particular masks. 
 
 A court-lackey rode up. Sonnenkamp 
 reined in. Could it be possible that they 
 repented and were sending a courier after 
 him ? 
 
 " Where are you going?" he asked of 
 the court-lackey as he stopped. 
 "To Villa Eden." 
 ' ' To whom ? " 
 
 "To the Professorin Dournay." 
 " Might I ask who sends you, and what 
 your errand is ? " 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Well, what's the errand?" 
 
 " The Professorin was formerly a lady in 
 waiting on the gracious mother of the 
 Prince, and the gracious Princess was very 
 fond of her." 
 
 ~ Very well, very well. And now ? " 
 
 " Well, now, the Professorin is living 
 there with a horrible man who has deceived 
 the whole world, and is a slavetrader, and 
 one's life isn't safe there a single minute, 
 and now the gracious Princess sends me 
 there, and I am to say to the Professorin — 
 
 and if she will, to take her along with me 
 at once — that she can be delivered from this 
 monster." 
 
 The lackey was astonished to see the man 
 who had questioned him ride away without 
 speaking another word. 
 
 Sonnen^amp boiled with rage ; but he 
 shortly laughed out loud again. 
 
 "That's all right! afraid, — the whole 
 world is afraid of him. This confers 
 strength ; this is far better than the silly 
 honor, with which one must behave him- 
 self." 
 
 He felt a profound contempt for those in 
 high station. Now they take up the neg- 
 lected widow, now, — why not before ? 
 
 He rode to the castle. Here were the 
 laborers who were erecting a wing of the 
 building; they saluted their employer with 
 evident reluctance. Sonnenkamp smiled ; 
 at any rate, they had to salute him. He 
 would have liked to get the whole world to- 
 gether, in order to look it, once for all, de- 
 fiantly in the face. 
 
 He rode to the Major's. Fräulein Milch 
 was standing at the window, and before he 
 said anything, she called down : — 
 
 " The Herr Major is not at home." And 
 now he turned homeward. 
 
 When he came to the garden-wall, he 
 noticed some large letters, and riding near- 
 er, he saw written in many different ways : 
 Slave-trader ! Slave-murderer ! An artist, 
 with no very practised hand, had drawn the 
 picture of a gallows on which a figure was 
 hanging with protruding tongue, and on 
 the tongue was the word Slave-trader ! He 
 ordered the porter to keep better watch, 
 and to shoot down the insolent fellows who 
 should do any such thing. 
 
 The porter said : — 
 
 " I'll not shoot ; I shall leave the service 
 on St. Martin's day, anyhow." 
 
 Sonnenkamp rode back toward the green 
 cottage ; he wanted to take away his chil- 
 dren, and he wanted to tell the Professorin 
 not to give any more charity to the rabble 
 that dared to write such words on the white 
 wall of his garden. But he turned about 
 again. The best way would be to take no 
 notice of it. 
 
 Panting with rage he returned to his 
 room, arid he wondered at the thought 
 which came over him, that this house was 
 his own no longer ; every one in the neigh- 
 borhood was thronging in, scoffing, pitying, 
 and he was living, as it were, in the street, 
 for every one was speaking about him, and 
 he could not help himself. He stamped 
 his foot on the floor. 
 
 "Here 'tis! You wanted honor, — you 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 439 
 
 wanted to be talked about, and now they 
 do talk, — but bow ? I despise the whole 
 of you ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 He turned over all manner of plans in his 
 mind, how he should get the better of the 
 world. But what was there that he could 
 do ? He could not hit. upon anything. 
 
 chapter x. 
 Roland's moan. 
 
 Roland and Manna sat in the library, 
 holding each other's hand ; they were like 
 two children who had taken refuge from the 
 storm in a strange hut. For a long time they 
 were unable to speak. Manna was the first 
 to gain composure, and in a tone of forced 
 cheerfulness, passing her hand over her 
 brother's face, she said : — 
 
 "Do you know the story of the little 
 brother and the little sister? They lost 
 themselves in the wood, and then found their 
 way home again. And we are like two chil- 
 dren in the wild forest. But we are children 
 no longer ; you are grown up, you are 
 strong, you must be so." 
 
 "Oh, don't speak," replied Roland, 
 " every word goes through my brain, even 
 the sound of your voice. O sister ! no, 
 there's none like it ! Do you think in all 
 these hundreds and hundreds of books 
 there's one single fate like ours? No, there 
 can't be." 
 
 After a longer interval, Manna again 
 began : — 
 
 " Now I can tell you what I meant, when 
 I said that I would be an Iphigenia ; I 
 wanted to sacrifice myself for you all, in 
 order to take the expiation from you." 
 
 "Oh, don't speak. What do these 
 stories of the children in the wood, of 
 Orestes and Iphigenia, have to do with us ? 
 Orestes was happy, he could consult the 
 gods at Delphi ; at that time the gods 
 could be offended and appeased ; they were 
 obliged to give a response — but now ? we ? 
 Where, in these times, is there a single 
 mouth which gives a response in the name 
 of the gods ? The Greeks had slaves too ; 
 and we ? Now they tell us that love has 
 come into the world, and that all men are 
 the children of God ! Is this love ? And 
 the priests blessed the marriage of a man 
 who held slaves — children of God äs slaves, 
 
 — and they baptized these children, letting 
 them still be slaves ! Alas ! I'm getting 
 crazed ! O, my youth ! O, my youth ! 
 Alas ! I am still so young, and I 
 must bear for a long, long life-time 
 
 — must bear this — everything! There's 
 a blackness before my eyes, a spot upon 
 everything I see — all is black — black! 
 
 At the time when Claus was imprisoned 
 
 — Children do not suffer for the crime 
 of their father ; they can have no part in 
 it, but they do suffer from it a whole life- 
 time. Where is justice — help me, sister! 
 
 — do help me ! " 
 "I cannot, I do not comprehend.it ! O, 
 
 it was that drove me out of the sanctuary ! 
 I don't comprehend it ! " 
 
 The brother and sister sat together in 
 silence, until Roland suddenly threw him- 
 self into Manna's arms, and hiding his head 
 on her bosom, said : — 
 
 " Manna, I wanted to kill myself, I could 
 not bear it. Yesterday, everything so 
 beautiful — and here on your heart I cry — I 
 must live — I don't know what I am to do 
 
 — I must live ! Were the children to kill 
 themselves for their parent's guilt, that 
 guilt would be made still greater." 
 
 Again Roland leaned his head on the arm 
 of the sofa, murmuring to himself : — 
 
 "He did not carry it out at once, and 
 now it will never be done." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Manna. 
 Roland gave her a glassy stare, but he kept 
 it to himself that he had exhorted his father 
 to put away all his property, and that the 
 father had led him to believe it should be 
 done ; but now he seemed to see clearly 
 that nothing of the kind would ever take 
 place. He closed his eyes, opened them 
 again, and lay there paralyzed as in an 
 awful void, everything crushed and shat- 
 tered within him. 
 
 Manna understood how he felt, and 
 kneeling by the sofa, she cried : — 
 
 "Roland, I have a great secret to tell 
 
 you ; Eric and I " 
 
 " What ? " exclaimed Roland, sitting up- 
 right. 
 
 " Eric and I are betrothed." 
 " You ? you two ? " 
 
 He sprang up, pressed her in his arms, 
 exclaiming again : — 
 ' ' You ? you two ? " 
 
 " Yes, Roland ; and he has known every- 
 thing for a long time." 
 
 "He has known everything? And he 
 has not rejected you with disdain? — and 
 he has instructed me so faithfully ? — Oh ! " 
 
 Roland and Manna held each other in a 
 long embrace. There was a knock at the 
 door, and they separated, looking at each 
 other in dismay. They knew it was their 
 father's knock, but neither of them said so. 
 There was another rap, and they still were 
 silent. Retreating footsteps were heard, 
 and they knew their father's step. Both knew 
 what it meant not to open when their father 
 knocked, but each refrained from speaking 
 of it. 1 
 
440 
 
 THE COUNTRY-EIOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Roland's thoughts must have gono from 
 one person to the other, for he now said : — 
 
 "Herr von Pranken has advised me lo 
 enter the Papal army. O, if I only knew a 
 battle-field where human brotherhood was 
 to be fought for ! O, if I knew where that 
 was, how gladly would I die on it ! But 
 that cannot be won upon the field of battle. 
 Oil, sister! I don't know what I'm thinking, 
 what I'm saying. Hiawatha fasted, and we 
 must fast too." 
 
 " Let us go home ! " said Manna, finally. 
 
 M Home ! home ! What is home to us ? 
 What can be our home ? " 
 
 Roland, however, rose up and went hand 
 in hand with Manna through the meadow 
 to the villa. 
 
 The sun shone bright, the hay exhaled so 
 sweet a fragrance, the vessels were rushing 
 up and down the stream, and just then a 
 merry procession was moving towards them 
 on the road ; it was a so-called harvest 
 mummery. On a cask sat the second son 
 of the Huntsman crowned as Bacchus with 
 vine-leaves ; around him stood maidens clad 
 in white, with dishevelled hair ; they were 
 swinging jugs, shouting and rejoicing. On 
 the horses rode shapes disguised with moss. 
 
 Everybody was shouting and screaming 
 amidst the loud report of fire-arms. 
 
 Brother and sister stood and gazed after 
 the merry train, which disappeared behind 
 the trees, and each knew the other's 
 thoughts. Yes, all others can be merry, but 
 we ! They went on farther, and at last 
 Roland said: — 
 
 " I know not how it is with me, I feel as 
 if I were not really experiencing all this ; 
 I am only dreaming of it, and looking at it 
 like a departed spirit. Everything is so 
 distant, so inacessible, so dim, so shadowy. 
 When I look upon you, I feel all the time 
 that we cannot approach each other at all, 
 that there lies between us a dreadful im- 
 mensity of distance, and father — moth- 
 er! " 
 
 With a wild stare he looked around him, 
 as if he saw ghosts everywhere. Manna 
 held his hand more firmly ; he became more 
 tranquil; nay, he even smiled thankfully. 
 
 Griffin came bounding along just at this 
 moment; he was overjoyed to .see his young 
 master once more, and jumped up on him 
 again and again. Roland caressed him and 
 said : — 
 
 44 Yes, dear Griffin, when I had lost and 
 forgotten you, then you found your way 
 home. Ah, dear Griffin, don't you know 
 a way home for me now ? I am not your 
 master, I am nothing." 
 
 The dog seemed to understand Roland's 
 sad looks and words ; he looked up at him 
 
 so affectionately, as if he wanted to say : — 
 Ah !' do not pine thy young life away. 
 
 Brother and sister stood side by side 
 on the bank of the Rhine. Roland ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 " I see my face in the water, sister, there 
 is no brand upon my forehead — no brand 
 — and still " 
 
 He wept bitterly, for the first time. 
 
 " Come, let us go on," said Manna con- 
 solingly. 
 
 f* On, on ! Yes, our path is long, unend- 
 ingly long," rejoined Roland, as he allowed 
 himself to be led away by his sister. 
 
 They entered the courtyard of the villa. 
 The servants were slowly leading away the 
 horses with their blankets on. 
 
 Roland opened his mouth : he wanted to 
 cry out : Take off the blankets ! Take off 
 the blankets, and hide the shame with 
 them ! Let the horses all spring out into 
 the open air. We have no more right over 
 them, they are no longer ours ! But he 
 could not utter the words. 
 
 Then he looked up at the green-houses, 
 at the trees, as if he wanted to ask them all 
 if they knew to whom they belonged. 
 
 He asked Manna to go into the stable 
 with him. He looked into the servants 1 
 faces as if begging respect from them, and 
 he thanked them for saluting him, and for 
 asking him what his commands were. Men 
 still saluted him, men still obeyed him ! In 
 the stable, he caressed his pony and wept 
 upon his neck. 
 
 "OPuck! shall you ever carry such a 
 light-hearted youth again ? " 
 
 The dogs were jumping round him ; he 
 nodded to them, and said sorrowfully to 
 Manna : — 
 
 "The brutes are altogether the happiest 
 creatures in the world ; they inherit nothing 
 from their parents, nothing but life — no 
 house, no garden, no money, no clothes. 
 Ah, my good Puck, what a fine long mane 
 you have ! M 
 
 There was something rising almost to 
 frenzy in Roland's thought and speech, as, 
 tugging at the beast's long mane, he ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 44 If slaves could not speak, could not 
 pray, they would be happy like you, and 
 like you, my faithful dogs !■" 
 
 Manna was becoming uneasy at the un- 
 wearying tenor of Roland's thoughts ; she 
 said : — 
 
 " You must now remain all the time with 
 our friend Eric, and not leave him a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 44 No, not now — not now! Those are 
 no arrows of Apollo, for the pedagogue to 
 ward off ! " 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 441 
 
 Manna did not understand what Roland 
 was saying ; his mind seemed to her dis- 
 tracted, and he did not explain how it was 
 that the Niobe group rose before his eyes. 
 At length, after some time, he said : — 
 
 ** Yes, so it is ! The maiden hides in her 
 mothers lap. but the boy holds up his own 
 hands and wards off the fatal shaft. And 
 at night, when I was wandering off to Eric, 
 I listened to the story of the laughing 
 sprite. It takes a long while for an acorn 
 to grow into a tree, and a cradle to be 
 made out of the tree, and a child that lies 
 in the cradle to open the door. Don't you 
 hear ? he laughs ; he must go through his 
 transformation. 11 
 
 Manna begged him to be quiet, and 
 said : — 
 
 " I must go to father." 
 
 " And I to mother." 
 
 Pranken met them on the steps ; he 
 held out his hand to Manna, and she said : 
 
 "lam unspeakably thankful to you for the 
 great loyalty you have shown to my father. 11 
 • " Stop a while, I beg of you. 11 
 
 " No, I cannot now — no longer." 
 
 The brother and sister separated, and as 
 Roland entered his mothers room, the 
 latter said : — 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about this Old 
 World, we are going back again to the New, 
 to your real home." 
 
 Roland caught these words as if they 
 came from afar off; and he exclaimed : — 
 
 " That's it! that's it! It is the Delphic 
 oracle ! V 
 
 " What do youjsay ? I am not learned. 11 
 
 Roland did not answer. Something was 
 beginning to emerge out of the chaos around 
 him, but it sank quickly out of sight again. 
 
 " Wait a moment, it is time to go to din- 
 ner," said the mother. 
 
 She put on a shawl and went with Roland 
 to the dining-room. 
 
 Here, also, were Pranken and Fraulein 
 Perini ; the two were standing talking to- 
 gether in a low tone. 
 
 Roland went for Eric. 
 
 " Isn't it dreadful to have to eat again ? " 
 he said. "What bits of slaves do we eat 
 to-day ? Ah, Eric ! lay your hand upon my 
 forehead. So — so — now thatfs good." 
 
 They had to wait some time before Son- 
 nenkamp came, and Manna did not appear 
 until some time afterwards. 
 
 Her cheeks were glowing. 
 
 They sat there at table so near together, 
 and so far — far apart were they from each 
 other. Eric and Manna looked at each 
 other only once ;• there was in their glance 
 an expression full of intelligence. Roland 
 said softly to Eric, — 
 
 "When the huntsman came home from 
 court there were potatoes on his table." 
 
 Eric laid his hand consolingly on his 
 shoulder ; he knew everything that was 
 going on in the ^oul of the youth from this 
 reminiscence. The huntsman was inno- 
 cent, and here ? 
 
 Pranken displayed all his tact in manag- 
 ing to bring forward every safe subject of 
 conversation ; the building of the castle 
 furnished him abundant material. 
 
 They rose from the table, and all sepa- 
 rated as before. Roland requested Eric 
 to allow him to remain alone by himself for 
 that day. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE BOND OF HONOR. 
 
 It was evening. Roland was going 
 through the village. In the streets floated 
 an odor of the May wine ; everybody was 
 merry and bustling ; the wine-presses were 
 creaking and dripping in the streets, men 
 were moving along slowly with full heavy 
 tubs on their bacjss. 
 
 Roland gazed at everybody with ques- 
 tioning look ; he would have liked to cry 
 out, — 
 
 See, here is a beggar, he begs of you 
 something of love, of kindness, of pity for 
 him and his father. Ah, only a little 
 charity ! 
 
 He saw the houses to which on his birth- 
 day he had carried joy-bringing gifts; the 
 people returned his greetings, but they were 
 not, as formerly, gladdened and honored by 
 them ; he left the village. 
 
 Outside of it, on the river-bank, he sat 
 behind a hedge, as he did before he ran 
 away to Eric. Now he was sitting in un- 
 speakable sadness, that bade fair to wither 
 his life-strength. A water-ousel flew up near 
 him. With childish self-forgetfulness, he 
 bent the boughs away from each other, and 
 saw a nest with five young ones stretching 
 out their bills. How happy he would have 
 been in by-gone days to have made such a 
 discovery ! Now, he stood there, and said 
 to himself sadly, — 
 
 Ah ! you are at home. 
 
 He heard a carriage come rattling 
 towards him on the road, and he thought of 
 that poor servant in the night, who would 
 rather hunger and beg than possess prop- 
 erty unjustly acquired. 
 
 Not far from him on the bank a boat was 
 loosened from its chain ; he heard the chain 
 rattle^ and at the same moment he felt in 
 his heart as if he heard the slaves, who, 
 bound in one long chain, were coming 
 towards him ; and this again transformed 
 
442 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 itself in his imagination, and he saw the 
 dwarf, fettered as he had once seen him, 
 and the groom ; they were walking along the 
 road, and behind them the constable, with 
 his loaded gun gleaming in the sun. 
 He looked up. 
 
 There, indeed, was a constable walking 
 along. What if he were coming to arrest 
 his father ? 
 
 O no, there was no fear ofthat ! 
 
 What was the matter, then ? 
 
 And while his eye was still fastened on 
 the bush behind which the constable disap- 
 peared, he became, as it were, clairvoyant, 
 his sight reaching out to all things instinctive- 
 ly. His thought stretched away to Clodwig, 
 to the Doctor, to the Major, to the Hunts- 
 man. What are they all saying ? Pro- 
 foundly it came upon him : Man does not 
 live for himself alone. There is an invisible 
 and inseparable community, whose bond is 
 respect and honor. He could bear yo 
 longer to sit alone with his confused 
 thoughts ; he said to himself almost aloud : — 
 
 " To the Huntsman's." 
 
 With nimble foot and «beating heart, as 
 if he expected to find something there, he 
 knew not what, he ascended the mountain. 
 Before reaching the town he was met by 
 the second son of the Huntsman ; he too 
 was slowly plodding : he was carrying a 
 heavy tub of young wine. The lad was of 
 the same age with Roland, and while still 
 at some distance", he «ried out : — 
 
 " Father said that yow would come. Just 
 go right in, he is expecting you." 
 
 Roland thanked him and went on. As 
 he entered the Huntsman's house, the latter 
 cried out to him : — 
 
 " Knew you were coming. Have a salve 
 for you. Needn't tell me anything, know 
 everything this long while. Can give you 
 something." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Boy, there are two things in the world 
 that help ; praying and drinking. If you 
 can't pray; drink till you have enough. 
 Come, that's the best thing." 
 
 " Shame on you," rejoined Roland, 
 " shame on you, there is another thing." 
 
 " What now? What?" 
 
 " Why, thinking. I cannot yet do it well 
 at all, and I know not what will come of it, 
 but still help must come of it." 
 
 " Huzza ! " cried the Huntsman, " you're 
 a splendid lad ! Say, have you decided yet 
 what you'll do with the big pile of money, 
 when you've once got it in your hand ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Very well. No doubt you'll learn. 
 Now, I tell you, don't fret your young life 
 away. Have pity on your father ; he is a 
 
 poor man, with all his millions. Show that 
 you're a lad who deserves to have the sun 
 shine on him. 
 
 "Listen! mind!" he said, interrupting 
 himself suddenly. 
 
 The black-bird was singing the melody : 
 "Rejoice in your life." Roland and the 
 Huntsman looked at each other, and Roland 
 smiled. 
 
 "Just so! " cried the Huntsman. "Learn 
 that by heart, too. Rejoice in your life, all 
 else is silly stuff. The bird is sensible. 
 You've done your part well." He nodded to 
 the black-bird, which was regarding the man 
 and the boy with a wise look, as if it knew 
 what it had done, and was sure of applause ; 
 and turning to Roland, he continued mer- 
 rily : — 
 
 " So — just so ! — just so ! Hold up your 
 head, and if you need any one, call on me. 
 You got me out of prison ; that I'll never 
 forget. Now come and be merry, as your 
 dogs are." 
 
 He took out a loaf of bread, which Roland 
 was to give to the dogs to eat ; but Roland 
 ate first with great zest. 
 
 "Hurrah! victory!" shouted Claus, 
 "you're hungry. The battle's won ! Now 
 let the water run down the Rhine, there's 
 another day to-morrow." 
 
 Eric had had a presentiment that Roland 
 would be at the field-guard's ; he went after 
 him, and was rejoiced to find him calm once 
 more. They went home together, and 
 Roland said : — 
 
 " Over there at fihe Huntsman's it came 
 into my head all at once : What would 
 Benjamin Franklin say to me now ? Do 
 you know, Eric, what he would say ? " 
 
 "Not entirely, but I think he would 
 say that a man who does nothing but 
 grieve stands on a level with the brute, 
 which in a mishap cannot help itself. The 
 power of man has its beginning in this, that 
 he can grasp, comprehend, and direct his 
 misfortune in such a way as to make some- 
 thing out of it for his own good. If you 
 suffer yourself to fall asleep in affliction, 
 you are responsible for your own "injury. 
 Rouse yourself. As long as there is anything 
 which you can esteem in yourself, you have 
 aright to the esteem of others." 
 
 "Thanks," exclaimed Roland. "For 
 my part, I have been thinking what Benja- 
 min Franklin would say. I saw him before 
 me with his genial countenance, his long 
 snow-white hair, and he said : — Mark you, 
 the worst thing is not what shames us in the 
 eyes of the world, bat to allow the shame 
 so to pervert your mind that you look upon 
 all men as base." 
 
 What he had listened to on the way he 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 443 
 
 had shaped into a strong pillar of thought 
 for himself. 
 
 Erie eould not tell how it gladdened his 
 heart to feel that he had fashioned this youth 
 for such things ; he wanted to cry out to 
 him, You are a man ; but he repressed it. It 
 would not do to say it aloud. With a 
 tranquillity wrung from the most profound 
 grief, they both returned to the villa. 
 
 They reached the garden wall, from the 
 face of which the porter was scraping some- 
 thing. 
 
 "There it is! there it is!" exclaimed 
 Roland. " I have read it ! " 
 
 The porter was scraping the mortar with 
 a sharp iron, and this scraping went through 
 Roland's soul as if the work were done on his 
 own heart. All the coolness and composure 
 that he had gained disappeared. 
 
 " There it is ! " he exclaimed. " It will 
 have to be scraped off again to-morrow, and 
 the day after to-morrow, and forever. Ah, 
 Eric, why are men so wicked ! What good 
 does it do them to insult us ? " 
 
 Eric consoled him by saying that men are 
 not so wicked, they merely liked to irritate 
 and mock one another. 
 
 He accompanied Roland to his room, and 
 there the youth sat still, his hand clenched 
 and pressed against his lip, till his teeth left 
 their mark on his fingers. For a long while 
 he spoke not a word. He looked at the 
 stuffed bird, and said softly to himself once 
 more, " Hiawatha ! 11 
 
 He stood at the window, and looked 
 down into the park, up into the sky, where 
 the swallows were gathering in great flocks, 
 getting ready Jo cross the sea into warm- 
 er lands. Everything, everything has its 
 home, something was saying in the heart of 
 this youth ; the plant that cannot stir is 
 carried to a secure shelter, and the swallow 
 draws to a place where it can still be hap- 
 py. O, if some one could only tell us now 
 where we might be happy ! 
 
 All at once he shrank back from the 
 window, for he saw the Russian prince 
 entering the courtyard ; behind the Prince 
 came the Doctor in his carriage. Roland 
 begged Eric to leave him alone, and not 
 bring any one to see him. 
 
 Eric went away, and Roland locked him- 
 self up in his room. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 SONNENKAMP FINDS A CONGENIAL SPIRIT. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was sitting alone in his 
 large room ; he looked up towards the castle, 
 which was nearly completed. Who will 
 dwell in it? He turned his eye away. He 
 
 stood for a long time in front of Roland's 
 picture. 
 
 " One should have no children, know 
 nothing of them," he exclaimed. He was 
 terrified at the sound of his own voice. 
 
 He opened the money-safe ; he contem- 
 plated the neatly-arranged papers, and the 
 drawers that contained the coined and un- 
 coined gold. 
 
 "What help are you to me? and still 
 Ii 
 
 There was a knock at the door. 
 
 "Who is it? "he asked. 
 
 Joseph answered : — 
 
 " His Highness the Prince is here, and 
 wishes " 
 
 The Prince ? Could it be possible ? Was 
 it all only a dream ? Is the Prince coming 
 to ask his pardon ? Does he feel ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp went to the door ; he opened 
 it ; there stood the Russian Prince Valerian. 
 He said, with friendly words, that he had 
 come to see if he could, in any way, be of 
 assistance, and Herr Weidmann also 
 
 "I need no assistance! I need no one," 
 broke in Sonnenkamp, shutting the door 
 and locking it once more. 
 
 " I have no pity, and want no pity," said 
 he to himself, holding both his clenched 
 hands on his breast. There was another 
 knock. 
 
 " What is it? Why don't they leave me 
 in peace ? " 
 
 Through the key-hole came the sound of 
 a gantle voice : — 
 
 " It is I, the Countess Bella." 
 
 Sonnenkamp shivered. 
 
 Is it a trick ? It is some one who insists 
 on speaking to him, assuming that name 
 and that voice. 
 
 Well ! At any rate, the person who puts 
 on that mask is very cunning. Let us see 
 who it is that is so shrewd ! 
 
 He opened the door and stood transfixed ; 
 it was indeed Bella. 
 
 "Give me your hand!" she cried. 
 " Your hand ! You are a hero, I have never 
 before seen a hero. And what are all 
 these puppets around you ? Stuffing for 
 uniforms, nothing more ; cowardly profes- 
 sors and newspaper hacks ! There is still 
 a bugbear which they call humanity, of 
 which they are all in fear ; before which 
 they creep away, like children from the 
 wolf. You alone are a man ! " 
 
 " Sit down," at last said Sonnenkamp in 
 astonishment ; he did not in the least un- 
 derstand what all this could mean. Bella 
 kept up the same strain, saying : — 
 
 " I knew that you were a conqueror, but 
 I did not know that you were such a mighty 
 one." 
 
444 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Still Sonnenkamp was not able to undcr- 
 • stand. What does this woman want? Is 
 this a kind of mockery ? But he was dis- 
 posed to think otherwise, when she ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 " They are weaklings — cowards, all of 
 them, the world of rank particularly! They 
 ought to have created you a count, an ordi- 
 nary baron is altogether too small a thing 
 for you. You have done Avhat they all 
 would have liked to do — no, not all, but 
 only certain ones who have the mettle with- 
 in them. But they are ashamed before 
 the man who accomplishes what they had 
 not the energy, or the courage, or the daring 
 to accomplish. They have swords, they 
 carry fancy daggers, and are frightened at 
 the rattan of the school-master, who raps 
 them on the. fingers with it and says to them : 
 1 Know ye not that we are living in the 
 epoch — or do they call it the century, the 
 age — of humanity ? ' By good right, all 
 the nobles of the land should leave their 
 cards for you, and congratulate you. How 
 •many of these puppets would be in posses- 
 sion of nobility, if they had to win it by 
 heroism like yours ? Look at me ; were I 
 young, had you come in my youth, I would 
 have gone out with you into the wide world ; 
 you have in you a Napoleonic vein. Give 
 me your hand ! 11 
 
 She reached out both her hands and 
 pressed his passionately. 
 
 " You do not recollect, but I have kept 
 it in mind, 11 said she in a haughty tone, 
 " when you and Prince Valerian dined with 
 us, you said: 'There is a priestcraft of 
 Humanity. 1 You were right. Before the 
 flimsy humanity of Jean Jacques Rousseau, 
 they all bow down in fear, strong free men ; 
 they are dreaming of a paradise of equality, 
 where black and white, noble and mean, 
 the genius and the blockhead, shall be 
 brewed into a mass together ; they have a 
 new faith in a book, the ' Contrat Social 1 is 
 their Bible. I am not afraid of Jean Jac- 
 ques Rousseau 11 
 
 With a joyful look, Sonnenkamp inter- 
 rupted her : — 
 
 " A cause is not lost, no, it is victorious, 
 if highminded women are enthusiastic over 
 it." 
 
 " Thanks — thanks, 11 continued Bella. 
 
 She seized his hand and stroked his 
 thumb with her delicate fingers. 
 
 " So one of the pets of the school-masters 
 has sunk his teeth in here ? Be proud of it ; 
 it is a mark of honor, more so than if it had 
 b_een won in battle. Now let nothing in 
 the world subdue you; enjoy yourself; you 
 have nothing more to conceal ; now stand 
 
 your ground and show that you are the 
 only one that is not afraid of the school-mas- 
 ters. The dauntless man acknowledges 
 and conforms to the inevitable. 11 
 
 Bella had risen ; her eye was blazing, her 
 cheeks were glowing, and her countenance 
 wore a look of mysterious and terrible fas- 
 cination. 
 
 So must Medusa have appeared, so must 
 she have breathed, so must she have trem- 
 bled. 
 
 And in the midst of this deep emotion, 
 Bella felt that it was a fine scene : here are 
 the sublime tones of voice at her command, 
 here is majesty, here is passion. She sud- 
 denly stood still like a living picture, as 
 soon as she became conscious of this con- 
 ception, and her eye sought for a mirror in 
 which to behold herself. 
 
 She shook her head, and turned back as 
 if she were coming upon the stage out of 
 one of the side scenes. 
 
 " Will you teli me how you have become 
 so great and daring, so free — the only 
 free man ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp, the strong man, trembled 
 within himself. He had an avowal upon his 
 lips, but he dared not utter it; he had a 
 demoniacal smile upon his face, as Bella 
 said to him : — 
 
 " There is one thing only you must not 
 do ; speak-not to me of love : anything but 
 the ' fable con venue ; 1 that is nothing — for 
 you nothing and to me nothing. Still 
 another thing. You will learn it now too, 
 if you do not know it already, — the great- 
 est tyranny in the world is the family. 
 Grieve not for your family^ a hero has no 
 family, and besides, it is only a sentimental 
 tradition that the heroes used to play with 
 their children on the floor. Yqu must 
 be alone, think' of yourself alone; then you 
 are strong, you are like a man born of 
 Byron's fancy, and such a man actually 
 stands before me. You have made only 
 one mistake ; a man like you, such a hero, 
 should have no family, should not want to 
 have any. Be firm, do not suffer yourself 
 to be cleft in twain and crushed to atoms 
 through this mistake. 11 
 
 Sonnenkamp was still too much shaken 
 not to feel a shudder creep over him at the 
 sight of this apparition, that seemed to have 
 sprung out from the world of fable ; he said 
 that he had had an idea, of the mere exis- 
 tence of which he had only been conscious 
 in a shadowy way, but now it was clear ; 
 he was resolved to continue the struggle, to 
 wage open war, that is, covert but decisive 
 war ; he would bring the virtuous people 
 hereabouts to a different way of thinking, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 445 
 
 this next would be his task. He had a plan 
 that was not yet clear to him, but it would 
 become clear. 
 
 Bella said that she did not wish to speak 
 to any one in the house beside himself; she 
 was going back at once, but she trusted that 
 he would be firm and stand his ground, for 
 otherwise she would have to despise all 
 men, and among them the only one who 
 had ever won her respect by real power. 
 
 Sonnenkamp opened the seed-room, ac- 
 companied Bella through it, and opened 
 the door that led to the private stair over- 
 run with climbing plants. Here he kissed 
 her hand at parting. But while still on the 
 steps, Bella called after him : — 
 
 "And one thing more! The first thing 
 for you to do is to free yourself from slavery ; 
 you must send away this teacher's family. 11 
 
 She made a repellant gesture, and 
 added : — ' 
 
 "This teacher's family should establish 
 their transcendental distillery in the little 
 University town once more. 1 ' 
 
 When Sonnenkamp returned to his room 
 after Belial departure, it seemed to him as 
 if everything had been only a dream ; but 
 he still breathed the odor of the delicate 
 perfumery which Bella's garments had left 
 behind in his room ; he still saw the chair 
 on which she had been sitting ; she had 
 actually been there. 
 
 But Bella did not reach home unseen. 
 In the park she met her brother. She con- 
 fessed to him frankly that she had been to 
 see Sonnenkamp, to cheer him up; she 
 praised Otto for his constancy, and for de- 
 spising the miserable, weak world. 
 
 " 1 could love this man ! " she exclaimed ; 
 " he is a conqueror, he has won for himself 
 a bit of the world. Pshaw ! Let them 
 grub for remains from the Roman world, 
 which was so powerful and despised every 
 one that spoke of justice for the slaves 
 — and what are they themselves ? " 
 
 "Sister," said Pranken playfully, "you 
 are still too young and handsome to dress 
 yourself up with those ingenious whims ; 
 you do not need such cosmetic contri- 
 vances." 
 
 Bella drew back a step from him, and 
 then said : — 
 
 " No, I wanted to say a word to you ; but 
 no. Only persevere, and bring your de- 
 signs with Manna to a point soon. How 
 does the little cloister-plant do? 11 
 
 "I beg of you, Bella " 
 
 " Well, well, I'm going directly, I can do 
 none of you any good." 
 
 She turned away quickly, and went back 
 to Wolfsgarten. 
 
 Pranken looked after her with astonish- 
 
 ment. He composed himself, for the Priest 
 came up. He reached out his hand to him 
 humbly, and spoke very gratefully of his 
 having come voluntarily to build up anew 
 the house of sorrow. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 COUNTER-POISON. 
 
 Prince Valerian, who had met with 
 such a rough rebuff from Sonnenkamp, had 
 himself announced to Eric. Roland, who 
 was in the next room, heard him say, the 
 first thing as he entered : — 
 
 "Where is Roland?" 
 
 " He desires to be left alone," answered 
 Eric ; and then the Prince declared that 
 Eric was best able to form an opinion as to 
 what might be good for Roland; but for 
 his part, he could not help thinking that in- 
 tercourse with men in whose eyes he could 
 behold the love they bore him, wjauld be of 
 greater assistance than anything else in 
 this unspeakable sorrow. 
 
 Roland rose to his feet in the next room. 
 Would this really be better than musing by 
 one's self? He kept quiet, and heard the 
 Prince ask how the daughter and how the 
 wife had received the exposure of the 
 dreadful secret. 
 
 The Prince spoke in a loud, Eric in a 
 low tone, and Roland did not understand 
 Eric's answer. 
 
 The Prince continued in the same loud 
 tone. Herr Weidmann was indignant at 
 the manner in which Professor Crutius had 
 brought this matter before the public, and 
 the statement that Doctor Fritz might have 
 had a share in this malicious publication, 
 was, without doubt, a falsehood. Doctor 
 Fritz had said again and again, when he 
 came to take away his child, that he hoped 
 the whole affair would remain concealed, on 
 account of Sonnenkarap's children. 
 
 Roland trembled. 
 
 Does Lilian know it over the sea ? Or 
 when will she hear of it ? How will she 
 bear it ? And will she cry about him ? 
 And she told him, that time in the garden, 
 that he must come home and help to deliver 
 the world from wrong. 
 
 He stretched his arms upwards, as if he 
 must hasten from that spot, and do some- 
 thing at that very moment. 
 
 The Prince, in the neighboring room, went 
 on to say that Herr Weidmann had seriously 
 considered whether he himself ought not to 
 go over to Villa Eden, then and there to 
 offer his assistance, but he had, after think- 
 ing the matter over, perceived that this 
 would be of no practical benefit, and there- 
 
446 
 
 THE COUNTRT-UOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 fore he had counselled the Prince to 2arry 
 out his own purpose. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, w for the first time 
 in a long while has the high social position 
 I am permitted to occupy brought me joy, 
 or, rather joy is not the right word. I 
 thought to myself that, on this account, I 
 should be able to effect here more than any 
 one else, and particularly for your pupil 
 Roland, whom I love so dearly, and whose 
 afflictions give me not a moment's peace." 
 
 In the next room, Roland folded his out- 
 stretched hands, and the thought passed 
 through his mind : — 
 
 Oh ; the world is good ; no, it is not so 
 bad as you on the journey wished to make 
 me believe. Here is one man who feels for 
 me. 
 
 The Prince continued : — 
 
 " Ah, Captain, what are we, who are set 
 in high places ? Our. way of living is just 
 the same as yours is here, only it is histori- 
 cally superannuated, overgrown with moss. 
 On the way here, I have seen everything 
 anew. Our serfs were sold with the land and 
 soil. It is the same thing, or rather, worse, 
 for they were men of the same race. And, 
 Captain, on my way here I became a terrible 
 heretic. I asked myself what have those 
 done who were sent into the world to preach, 
 and never to stop preaching, love and bro- 
 therhood. They have looked quietly upon 
 the fact that there are thousands and thou- 
 sands of slaves, thousands and thousands of 
 serfs. And then the thought struck me, 
 Who is freeing the serfs and the slaves ? 
 Pure humanity is unloosing their chains." 
 
 Again the thought flashed through 
 Roland's mind : Is not that the same thing 
 that he himself had already thought of — 
 and Manna too ? The youth's eyes opened 
 wide, as Eric now answered : — 
 
 " I am far away from what is called the 
 church, but the doctrine of Christ is still a 
 root of that humanity which is now fast 
 ripening into maturity." 
 
 "You are like Herr Weidmann, who 
 
 also " exclaimed the Prince. He could 
 
 not finish the sentence, for the Doctor en- 
 tered. 
 
 " Where is Roland?" he also inquired, 
 after the greeting was ovör. 
 
 He too got the answer that Roland 
 wished to be alone, and the Doctor said, — 
 
 "I approve of that. Is he very much 
 agitated ? Mind, days will come when he 
 will fall into dulncss and apathy ; let it have 
 its course with him, and at the same time 
 have the greatest patience with him. The 
 noblest gift of nature is stupor ; it is part 
 of the soul's sleep ; the simpleton and the 
 brute have it constantly ; they consequently I 
 
 never reach that pitch of intense excitement 
 that endangers all existence ; and nature, 
 too, takes pity on the sensitive man, and 
 gives him stupor. In the first place, when he 
 begins to give way under his grief, then, I 
 beg of you, give Roland to understand 
 then the affair is not so terrible as it seems ; 
 there is a good deal of depravity right un- 
 der our very eyes ; and where is it that this 
 depravity does not exist ! Do you remem- 
 ber my asking you when you came here 
 first, how long since you had been a believer 
 in depravity ? " 
 Eric said he did. 
 
 The Doctor continued in a cheerful 
 tone : — 
 
 " Now that evil is here, don't lose heart ; 
 yeu have done nobly so long as you have 
 put • faith in human purity ; I hope, now 
 that you have become a convert to the new 
 faith, you will still remain equally strong. 
 Yes, XDaptain, we think we are teachers 
 when we are only pupils. Do you 
 know what vexed me most in the publica- 
 tion of this story ?" 
 
 " How could I?" 
 
 " I was indignant that the sated, self- 
 sufficient portion of the community, pluming 
 itself upon its external white-wash of de- 
 cency, should now give itself a treat. Each 
 person looks at himself: Ah, I am a mag- 
 nificent being, compared with this monster. 
 And still the vileness of the slave trade is 
 only more notorious than that of a thousand 
 other occupations. In the Jockey Club the 
 ' Jeunesse doree ' are railing at the monster 
 Sonnenkamp, and what are they themselves ? 
 Hundreds of occupations are constantly 
 hanging on the verge of crime. Yes, the 
 old theology teaches me that as Sodom 
 might in old times have stood, if only just 
 so many righteous men were to be found in 
 it, so it is to-day. The sun shines only for 
 the few just men ; and in every human being 
 there is a complete Sodom ; but there is also 
 in him something of righteousness, and 
 because of that he continues to live." 
 
 Eric and the Prince looked in surprise at 
 the Doctor, whom they had never before 
 really known. Within, in the next room, 
 Roland had seized hold of his forehead, as if 
 questioning whether he comprehended all 
 this, and in what it would all end. 
 
 The Doctor seemed to enjoy his triumph, 
 or rather the perplexity he had caused, and 
 he exclaimed in a loud voice, louder even 
 than before, — 
 
 " For all that, I have for this Herr Son- 
 nenkamp great respect." 
 
 He paused, and then continued : — 
 
 "This Herr Sonnenkamp, or, for aught I 
 care, Banfield, has kept pretty stiff, he has 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 447 
 
 not bowed down before the priesthood ; if 
 he had, this would have been covered up. 
 That he has not done so, shows power ; and, 
 besides, I think I have kept myself free 
 from the sentimental epidemic. These nig- 
 gers are not my fellow creatures ; human 
 beings of a black complexion have no high 
 destiny ; from their whole physical confor- 
 mation, they belong out in the heat of the 
 sun, at hard work. Slavery is not such a 
 bad thing, after all ; we would not find it ill, 
 if we, too, had slaves for servants. When 
 serving people know that their place is to 
 serve and that they can not play the master, 
 they are more faithful in their work, and one 
 can take better care of them. And I have 
 many a time thought to myself how it would 
 be, if my men-servants and maid-servants 
 were all at once transformed into Africans ; 
 it would be a surprise, but one would have 
 to get reconciled to it. I am loth to accept 
 these darkies as my brothers. And can 
 you think of a negro as a painter? A nigger 
 cannot even see himself in the looking-glass. 
 And can you picture to yourself a nigger 
 statesman, a nigger professor ? " 
 
 Eric was full of indignation at all this, 
 but he had to listen to it ; there was no 
 chance for him to say anything, as the Doctor 
 cried out in a still louder voice, — 
 
 " Don't let Roland fall into sentimentality. 
 You, as philologist, must know the story of 
 that — wasn't it a Roman emperor? — who 
 had made a great deal of money by the 
 slave-trade, and whose son took up a piece 
 of the gold acquired by this means, held it 
 to his nose, and asked : ' num olet ? ' Roland 
 should not continue to carry on the slave- 
 trade ; it isn't just the thing; it's always un- 
 pleasant and dirty ; but he mustn't let what 
 has happened ruin him ; he should know that 
 he's the legitimate owner of the property, 
 and needn't ask how the money was obtain- 
 ed — the legitimate owner," he repeated 
 once again in a loud voice. 
 
 Eric now noticed for the first time that 
 the Doctor was speaking neither to him nor 
 to the Prince. 
 
 The Doctor was aware that Roland was 
 listening to everything, in the next room, 
 and everything was directed to him. Should 
 he by a protest interfere with the healing 
 skill of the Doctor, who sought to cure the 
 effect of the poison by a counter poison? 
 
 " Ah! you come in good time," cried the 
 Doctor to the Priest, as he entered. " I 
 have been fore-stalling you a little in your 
 office, and now you can give me some as- 
 sistance." 
 
 He repeated hurriedly to the Priest what 
 he had been saying, and he was surprised 
 when the Priest rejoined : — 
 
 "I do not agree with you. Yes, you 
 gentlemen of philosophy and the self-gov- 
 ernment of mankind — remember, Captain, 
 I told you so the first time we met — you 
 have nothing but arrogance or dejection ; 
 you know no such thing as equanimity, be- 
 cause the firmly fixed rock of the Positive 
 is lacking in you." 
 
 Eric, who had been holding his breath 
 while the Doctor was holding forth, was on 
 the point of replying sharply to the Priest, 
 when the door was thrown open and Ro- 
 land entered. 
 
 " No Doctor, 11 exclaimed lie, " you have 
 not converted me. I still know — I still 
 know — and you, Herr Priest, it does not 
 become me to dispute with you, but I will 
 not suffer my friend, my brother, my Eric, 
 to be assailed here. He has given me the 
 Positive, the belief in our duty, in our activ- 
 ity, in our never-ceasing self-devotion. I 
 will show for his sake, and for my sake, 
 what I can yet do in life." 
 
 The Prince embraced Roland ; the Doc- 
 tor took the Priest outside, and said to him 
 in a low tone : — 
 
 " Don't trouble the young man, a favor- 
 able crisis has set in. Come with me, I beg 
 of you." 
 
 He drew the Priest away almost by force. 
 
 Eric, Roland, and the Prince still sat a 
 long while together ; then they had the 
 horses saddled, Eric and Roland accom- 
 panying the Prince a part of the way. 
 
 After they had ridden a short distance, 
 they saw a strange shape on the road; 
 Roland cried out suddenly : — 
 
 "There's something walking, I think — 
 I think — no, I am not mistaken, it's our 
 friend Knopf! 11 
 
 It was no other than Knopf. He was 
 going along quietly in the dark, quizzing 
 himself sorely why it was he did not under- 
 stand the world ; it really ought to explain 
 itself to him, for he held the world so dear. 
 Why is it so reserved and full of secresy ? 
 What would now become of Roland ? And 
 amongst the rest entered a lighter and 
 more trifling sorrow, that the Major had 
 utterly forgotten him. Knopf did not think 
 ill of him for it, not in the least ; for Hea- 
 ven knows that in such confusion one had 
 his head full enough ; who can think of 
 everything ? He confessed modestly to 
 himself that he, of course, could not have 
 been of any assistance whatever, he was so 
 awkward ; there was Herr Dournay, and 
 Pranken — he knew nothing at all about 
 Prince Valerian. Thus he was trudging 
 along in the dark, and questioning himself 
 in every way, and then looking up at the 
 stars. 
 
443 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Herr Knopf! Herr Knopf! Herr Mag- 
 ister ! " was shouted out by different voiees. 
 Knopf stopped. Roland sprang quiekly off 
 his horse, embraced the old teacher, and 
 exclaimed : — 
 
 " Ah, forgive me for what I have done 
 to you ; I've been wanting to say it to you 
 
 — long ago 11 At the words, "long 
 
 ago," 1 Roland's voice trembled violently. 
 
 " You have already, and it has been for- 
 given for a long time ; but how does it hap- 
 pen that you are here ? 11 
 
 Everything was soon explained. Knopf 
 rested his hand on Roland's shoulder all 
 the while, as if he could lend him some of 
 his strength ; and he pressed back the spec- 
 tacles very close to his eyes, when he heard 
 and saw how the youth was beginning to 
 bear up manfully under the terrible event. 
 He pressed Eric's hand as if he would say : — 
 
 You can be happy, you have imparted 
 to the boy genuine strength. 
 
 When at last they were bidding good-bye, 
 Roland begged Knopf to ride home on the 
 pony. Knopf assured him repeatedly that 
 it was a pleasure to him to roam about in 
 the dark on foot ; Roland asserted that 
 Puck was a right gentle beast, so tractable, 
 so easy and intelligent ; and he said to the 
 little horse : — 
 
 " I want you to be good now, and make 
 up for all the trouble I gave to my old 
 teacher ; do be well-behaved." 
 
 Knopf continued to object, and at last 
 he brought out, in a plaintive tone, that he 
 had no straps to his pants. Everybody 
 laughed, and Roland in the midst of his 
 sorrow laughed too. Knopf was extremely 
 happy to find that Roland could laugh, and 
 now he yielded. Roland helped him mount, 
 stroking the arm of his former teacher, 
 and stroking the horse ; Knopf and the 
 Prince rode off together. But Eric did 
 not mount again ; leading his horse by the 
 bridle, he went hand in hand with Roland 
 to the Villa. 
 
 And now, in the still night, Eric was in- 
 cessantly occupied in thinking of what the 
 Doctor had said ; how great was the dis- 
 cord in the whole modern world, so that 
 the life of states, and even many of the 
 occupations of private life, were not regu- 
 lated by ethical principles. Not in the way 
 prescribed by the Doctor, — besides, it hail 
 left no impression whatever on Roland, — 
 would the youth gain rest and strength, nor 
 in any way but in the acknowledgment that 
 each one must strive earnestly to conform 
 to the moral law, and make it an integral 
 part of his actual life. 
 
 Roland listened to him quietly, occasion- 
 
 ally clasping the speaker's hand with a 
 firmer hold. 
 
 When they were approaching the Villa, 
 Roland said, sighing deeply : — 
 
 " Ah, Eric, now the house is robbed in a 
 very different way from what it was when 
 we came back from Wolfsgarten." 
 
 No change had been wrought in the de- 
 jected feelings of Roland by what the Doc- 
 tor had said, nor by Eric's utterances ; the 
 only effect was to enable him to express 
 himself freely. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A NEW PILLORY AT THE CHURCH DOOR. 
 
 The swallows, were flocking together and 
 twittering over Villa Eden, over the jail not 
 far from the house of the Justice, over the 
 military club-house in the capital, and 
 wherever they flocked, everybody was talk- 
 ing of Sonnenkamp, of what had happened 
 and of what would happen to him. 
 
 In the basement, in the large room near 
 the kitchen, Sonnenkamp's domestics were 
 sitting at table. Bertram's chair was va- 
 cant. Somebody was saying that the 
 porter would have to scrape the writing off* 
 the wall, and that he had already given the 
 master notice that he should leave. The 
 "chief," who spoke German quite fluently 
 when he was in anger, was cursing the ras- 
 cality of domestics in leaving their master, 
 who had no farther to concern themselves 
 than to get their regular pay. The Cooper 
 contested this. Of course, the honor of 
 the master was the honor of the servant, but 
 they ought still to remain with Sonnenkamp ; 
 if there was a good deal in him that was 
 bad, there was also, much that was good. 
 Joseph, whose personal opinion did not 
 have its just weight, on account of his confi- 
 dential relations with Sonnenkamp, was glad 
 that the Cooper had hit the right point. 
 
 The second coachman, the Englishman, 
 who also wanted, to give notice of leaving, 
 now said that he should not do it ; but of 
 course he must always be ready for a boxing- 
 match. 
 
 The Squirrel expressed his fear that 
 some one would set fire to the place, for the 
 whole neighborhood was possessed by the 
 devil. Lootz was not there, and nobody 
 knew where the master had sent him. Old 
 Ursel mourned over the innocent children, at 
 the same time eating away with a fearful 
 appetite, and uttering loudest lamentations 
 with her mouth full. 
 
 The stuttering gardener made the propo- 
 sal that they should remain, but should 
 make a joint demand for higher wages. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 449 
 
 All agreed to do this, except Joseph and 
 the Cooper, but were puzzled how it could 
 be brought about. 
 
 "The subterraneans were unanimous in 
 their eulogies of Pranken. He was a no- 
 bleman whose like could not be found, who 
 did not desert the master for a single mo- 
 ment. He bad ridden out with him in the 
 broad daylight, and did not concern him- 
 self as to what his noble relatives might say 
 of him. 
 
 Here, underground, they were also glad 
 to know that men were ungrateful and 
 base. ^It was even known here that Son- 
 nenkamp had made a present of the Villa 
 to the Cabinetsrath, for what the latter had 
 given for it was only a trifling sum ; and 
 now the gardener of the Cabinetsrath had 
 reported that the country-house and the 
 vineyard had just been sold to the American 
 Consul, as a sort of gibe at Sonnenkamp ; 
 for the family of the Cabinetsrath wished 
 to have no more intercourse with Villa 
 Eden. 
 
 In just the same way, although by men 
 of a different position in society, were Son- 
 nenkamp's circumstances discussed in the 
 military club-house of the capital, as well 
 as in the beer-houses. For some time, 
 Adams, the negro servant of the Prince, 
 had everywhere been the topic of conversa- 
 tion. There were various wonderful sto- 
 ries how five men were hardly able to re- 
 strain the raving negro ; that he had tried to 
 choke Sonnenkamp, — only with the great- 
 est difficulty had they succeeded in getting 
 him out of the capital, and removing him to 
 a hunting-seat. Then the conversation 
 would turn upon Sonnenkamp. Even- 
 body asked what he would do now ; no one 
 could understand how it was that Pranken 
 stood by him, and how the family permitted 
 such a thing. In the military club-house 
 there was also an Ursel, but here she took 
 the form of a pensioned lady of, high rank, 
 who also ate heartily, and, while eating, 
 spoke very compassionately of the poor 
 children of the millionaire. 
 
 But the conversation took a very peculiar 
 turn in the house of Dr. Richard, where 
 they were to-day giving a great coffee- 
 party in honor of Frau Weidmann, whö had 
 come on a visit ; it had been arranged sev- 
 eral days before, and the Professorin, Aunt 
 Claudine, Frau Ceres, and Manna had 
 been invited ; of course they did not come. 
 Here and there they were earnestly discuss- 
 ing how they should treat the Sonnenkamp 
 family, if they had the audacity not to leave 
 the country as soon as possible. 
 
 Lina, who had returned from the trip 
 with her betrothed, said that she would be 
 
 the same in Sonnenkamp's family that she 
 had always been, and that she would re- 
 main Manna's friend ; for wherever the 
 Professorin was, there any one might main- 
 tain social intercourse without detriment to 
 one's honor. 
 
 The tone of the conversation became 
 kindly as Frau Weidmann gave unreserved 
 support to Lina ; she spoke of the noble 
 character of Roland, who had been on a 
 visit to her house, and of the solid worth of 
 Eric, whom her husband held in very high 
 esteem. 
 
 Thus every one in the house, as well as 
 in the neighborhood, seemed to be putting 
 himself right, and adopting a moderate, 
 kindly tone towards the Sonnenkamp fam- 
 ily. But the bitter, detestable conse- 
 quences of the occurrence manifested them- 
 selves in the green cottage on Sunday 
 morning. 
 
 During the hour before mass, the indi- 
 gent neighbors used to come for their reg- 
 ular weekly allowance ; to-day there came 
 only one solitary woman, in a sorry plight. 
 She was a drunkard's wife, who was forever 
 complaining and lamenting; she was con- 
 stantly, fretting about two children, one of 
 which she held in her arms, and the other 
 she led by her side. 
 
 It was Only with some difficulty that the 
 Professorin had brought herself to furnish 
 assistance to this woman, because she was 
 afraid that the drunkard would only be 
 made more shiftless by so doing ; she had 
 yielded to the persuasion of Fraulein Milch, 
 though she generally cut the talkative 
 woman short. But she had to listen pa- 
 tiently to-day, now that the woman came 
 alone and no others were there. The Pro- 
 fessorin trembled when the woman said to 
 her : — 
 
 "Yes, yes, such is the world! It's a 
 topsy-turvy world. My husband makes 
 wife and children unhappy because he 
 squanders everything, and Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp makes wife and children unhappy 
 because he has got everything. Yes, just 
 so ! It's a world turned upside down." 
 
 She assured the Professorin that she 
 would take none of the gold of the slave- 
 trader, if she could help herself in any 
 other way. 
 
 And out of this gold my son is to enrich 
 himself, said the Professorin, to herself, 
 sitting there alone soon afterwards, as the 
 bells were ringing. She sat quiet for a long 
 time. Then Eric came in and said : 
 
 "Ah mother, another dreadful thing has 
 happened ! " 
 
 " Something new ? Still another dread- 
 ful thing ? What has happened ? " 
 
450 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 "lie was bold and defiant; he went to 
 church with Pranken." 
 "Who did?" 
 
 "Herr Sonnenkamp. And when he 
 came out of the church, there stood all the 
 people in a row, looking at him. He went 
 up to a poor man and handed him a gold 
 piece ; the poor man took the money, and 
 then threw it away, exclaiming : ' I will 
 have nothing from you ! 1 And they all 
 cried out : * We want nothing more from 
 you ! Take yourself out of the country. 1 
 Sonnenkamp went away, the piece of gold 
 is still lying there before the church door, 
 and no one will pick it up. O mother, the 
 people are great and horrible at the same 
 time." 
 
 " Did you see it too ? Where did you 
 hear about it? Were you too at the 
 church ? " 
 
 " No; Manna and Roland told me, and 
 now they are sitting in the garden together, 
 and weeping. I have hastened to you, for 
 you only can help us. Comfort them, 
 strengthen them." 4 
 
 " I have done all I can," said the Mother ; 
 " I am too weak, and I am afraid I shall 
 be ill." 
 
 Eric called his aunt to remain with his 
 mother, and returned to Roland and 
 Manna. 
 
 The Doctor was sent for that very after- 
 noon. The Professorin was sick. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A WHOLESOME ILLNESS. 
 
 She whom all depended upon, to whom 
 every one repaired, sure of care and assist- 
 ance, — she was now unexpectedly in want 
 of assistance herself, and was in a danger- 
 ous condition. The remarkable events and 
 vicissitudes some had begun to overcome 
 by means of their youthful strength, by stern 
 defiance, and others by indifference ; the 
 Professorin alone felt a constant gnawing 
 at her heart day and night. 
 
 Eric had remarked several days before, 
 although he ascribed it to the sudden shock 
 she had received, that his mother, when he 
 was walking before her hand in hand with 
 Manna, took everything cordially and 
 kindly, but still dully," and as if weighed 
 down by some feeling of depression. His 
 mother was in the habit of seeking help 
 from no one, she had always the power of 
 assisting others, and in this doing for others 
 she always found renewed strength. 
 
 From the day on which .Fraulein Milch 
 made that communication to her, it had 
 been different ; she performed only mechan- 
 ically the duties, which had previously been 
 
 executed with such freedom and animation. 
 
 From that day forth, she had determined 
 to keep clear of every luxurious indulgence 
 which this ostentatious man might feellike 
 putting in her way, and this she would do 
 in a modest and retiring manner ; from 
 that day forth she looked upon herself as a 
 traveller receiving temporary hospitalities, 
 for all the home feeling of comfort had been 
 taken aAvay from her. She was prepared at 
 any hour to pack up all that she possessed, 
 and all that was arranged in such a quiet 
 way about her, and remove to some other 
 place. 
 
 She had never in her life been troubled 
 by regret, she had done nothing for which 
 she could reproach herself, or the memory 
 of which was to be effaced; but now she 
 was beset by a constant feeling of regret. 
 
 Why had she been so thoughtless as to 
 connect herself with such a mysterious and 
 disintegrated family ? 
 
 Joy and grief affected her by turns, like 
 one suffering under the delirium of fever. 
 
 Eric's happiness in loving Manna and 
 being so deeply loved, which before had ex- 
 cited within her such a blissful pleasure, she 
 now listened to and looked upon with an 
 •almost forced interest; and when Bella had 
 so deeply mortified her, she could scarcely 
 make any resistance, for it seemed to her as 
 if it concerned someone else, and had no re- 
 lation to herself. Thus she lived estranged 
 from herself, but made no complaint, hoping 
 that everything would right itself. She had 
 no idea that there was an inward disturbance 
 and distraction which would show itself on 
 the first favorable opportunity. Now, when 
 the needy declined charity at her hands, 
 that inexpressible sadness, so long hidden 
 and repressed, broke forth. It seemed to 
 her inexplicable that her only son, her all 
 in this world, was to be engrafted into this 
 family. 
 
 The Doctor had found the Mother in a 
 state of febrile excitement ; he gave her a 
 composing draught ; but the opinion which 
 he expressed before Eric, Manna, and 
 Roland, had a still more, quieting effect. 
 The Mother complained that she had never 
 known how much people could be at variance 
 with themselves and with others. The Doc- 
 tor replied, with a smile, that people were 
 not generally so nice in their housekeeping 
 as she was, aud, referring to Sonnenkamp, 
 said that there is such a thing as a zone of 
 mind, or whatever else you may choose to 
 call it, which furnishes organizations entire- 
 ly exotic, but which nevertheless have their 
 natural conditions, as our customary, every- 
 day ones have. The constant solitary spe- 
 culation and refining of thought, the recur- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 451 
 
 ring to her life with her husband, there thor- 
 oughly, deep-seated melancholy of the noble 
 woman showed itself in an increased sensi- 
 tiveness and irritability; and it had reached 
 such a point that fears were entertained for 
 her life ; something might occur which would 
 be the occasion of suddenly extinguishing 
 this flickering flame of life. 
 
 Eric, Manna, and Roland, trembling and 
 apprehensive, surrounded the Mother with 
 constant care, and in this anxiety for an- 
 other, there was a great deliverance for 
 themselves. The Doctor once said in the 
 library to Eric : — 
 
 " If your mother had become sick on pur- 
 pose, it would have been one of the wisest 
 things she could have done ; for it helps you 
 all to get possession of yourselves. 1 ' 
 
 Sonnenkamp also expressed profound 
 sympathy, but he felf provoked ; it is not 
 now the time for sickness, every one must 
 now stand erect so as to bear up under the 
 storm. After some days, however, he found 
 the Professorin's illness very opportune ; it 
 took some time to get accustomed to the 
 new order of things ; he even admitted to 
 himself directly, that he would not regret 
 it much if the Professorin should die; that 
 would produce a change of feeling, and in 
 the mean while everything was getting bet- 
 ter very fast. 
 
 Ffäulein Milch did not suffer Manna to 
 devote herself entirely to the Professorin as 
 she wished to do, and she herself was the 
 best of nurses." 
 
 The Major went about in utter desolation. 
 More than any one else, not even excepting 
 the children, he was the most deeply affect- 
 ed, perhaps, by the disclosure ofSonnen- 
 kamp's past life. 
 
 "The world is right; that is, Fräulein 
 Milch is right," he was all the time saying. 
 " She has told me all along that I don't know 
 men, and she's right." 
 
 In the mean while, he found a good place 
 of refuge ; he went to see Weidmann, at 
 Mattenheim, for a couple of days. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A BLACK WAVE. 
 
 On Sunday evening a bustling crowd 
 was streaming along the white road, up 
 and down the banks of the river, and to 
 and fro between the vineyards, all seeming 
 to have one end in view. 
 
 Sonnenkamp, wrapped in his cloak, was 
 sitting on the flat roof of his house, gazing 
 with a sensation of dizziness upon the sur- 
 rounding landscape. Once he walked to 
 the eaves. His brain reeled, and he wanted 
 to throw himself off. 
 
 So then it was all over, the hard thinking 
 and everything ! Nevertheless he stepped 
 back again, and sat upon the flat roof until 
 nightfall. 
 
 Suddenly his ear was struck by howls, 
 cat-calls, hootings, rattling and clashing, as 
 "though hell itself had been let loose. 
 
 He sprang to his feet. Are these sounds 
 within him ? Is this all imagination ? He 
 hears them distinctly ; the noise comes 
 from beneath. It rises from the road, and- 
 he descries by the torchlight fantastic figures 
 with black faces. Is that, too, only imagi- 
 nation ? Have they come hither from the 
 other world, those creatures with human 
 forms ? 
 
 " You must leave the country ! " 
 
 " Begone to your blacks ! " 
 
 "We'll fetch him out, and paint him 
 black too ! " 
 
 " And we'll tie him on his black nag, and 
 lead him through the country, shouting : 
 1 Look at him ! ' " 
 
 Then followed more whistling, bawling, 
 crashing, rattling, and a sharp, jangling 
 sound, produced by banging pots and ket- 
 tles together. It was a most infernal din. 
 
 Then arose in Sonnenkamp's memory a 
 vision of the past, — the image of a man 
 accused of having incited slaves to revolt, 
 driven through the streets, naked, tarred 
 and feathered, pelted with rotten apples and 
 cabbage stumps. The scene changed, and 
 on the gallows hung John Brown. 
 
 The report of a gun was heard, and the 
 voice of Pranken, crying : — 
 
 " Shoot the dogs down ! I'll take the re- 
 sponsibility ! " 
 
 Only one more shot resounded ; then the 
 raging mob came surging against the gate, 
 •which gave way with a crash, and in rushed 
 the frantic rabble, all with black faces, and 
 the cry arose : — 
 
 " We'll choke the whole of 'em ! " 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " Give him up, or we'll smash everything 
 to pieces ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp hastened down from the 
 roof through the house, and, standing on 
 the open balcony, heard Eric's voice, warn- 
 ing the crowd in powerful tones : — 
 
 "Are you men? Are you Germans? 
 Who has made judges of you ? Speak ! I 
 will answer you. You are bringing misery 
 upon yourselves. You will be recognized 
 and detected, in spite of your blackened 
 faces. To-morrow will come the appointed 
 judge ; for we live in a well-governed coun- 
 try, and you are all of vou amenable to the 
 law." 
 
 " We don't want to touch the Captain ! " 
 cried a voice from the crowd. 
 
452 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Eric continued, — 
 
 " If there is one among you who can tell 
 what you want, let him come forward." 
 
 A man with blaekened face, whom Eric 
 did not recognize, stepped forth and said, — 
 
 " Captain, it's me, the Screamer; let me 
 speak. The new wine has got into our* 
 folks 1 heads below there. I'm as sober as 
 a cat," added he, 'stammering. 
 
 " But what do they want? 11 
 
 " They wish that Herr Sonnenkamp, or 
 whatever his name is, should leave our part 
 of the country, and go where he belongs." 
 
 44 Yes ! Let him take himself off! " 
 
 '* And give me back my meadow ! " 
 
 " And me my vineyard ! " 
 
 " And me my house ! " 
 
 Such were the cries uttered by the mob. 
 
 Claus quickly joined Eric on the steps, 
 and called to the rabble, — 
 
 "If you go on shouting out such crazy 
 stuff, and speaking all together, I'll be the 
 first to choke any one who tries to get into 
 the house." 
 
 "Let him be off!" 
 
 "Let him clear out!" "Hustle him 
 out ! " was the general cry. 
 
 Jxst as this was yelled forth, Sonnenkamp 
 appeared on the steps. The howling, shriek- 
 ing, and kettle-banging began anew ; stones 
 crashed through the great window-panes. 
 
 The Screamer, hastening up the steps, 
 placed himself before Sonnenkamp, say* 
 ing, — 
 
 " Keep still: I'll protect you." 
 
 Then he shouted, yet more violently, — 
 
 " If you say one word more, and if every 
 man doesn't hold his neighbor, so that he 
 can't move his arms, I'll be the first to shoot 
 you down, without caring whether I hit the 
 innocent or the guilty." 
 
 " Men, what have I done to you ? " cried 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 "Cannibal! " 
 
 " Kidnapper ! " 
 
 " Slave dealer! " 
 
 " And if I were," exclaimed Sonnenkamp, 
 " what gives you the right to judge me ? " 
 
 " You must clear out of this ! " 
 
 "Make yourself scarce! " was the cry 
 from beneath. 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, and you, Captain," 
 said Claus, hastily addressing them both, 
 " I only joined this savage troop, because I 
 saw it was no use trying to hold them back, 
 but I've caught them by the halter, and if 
 you'll just leave everything to me, we'll 
 make a carnival sport out of the whole con- 
 cern. You speak first, Captain, and I beg 
 you to keep still, Herr Sonnenkamp." 
 
 " My men," began Eric, " let the stones 
 alone. Do you know the great word, — 
 
 1 lie that is without sin among you, let him 
 first cast a stone ! ' Has not every one of 
 you done something that " 
 
 " We've never sold men ! Oh ! the ogre ! " 
 they cried from below. 
 
 Eric could say no more. At this juncture 
 Manna appeared, holding a branched can- 
 dlestick with two lighted candles. A cry 
 of astonishment went through the crowd ; 
 then all was still for a second, all eyes being 
 rivetted on the girl as she stood there, 
 pale, with sparkling eyes and dishevelled 
 hair. 
 
 Roland, placing himself beside Eric, 
 called out in a voice which resounded far 
 and wide, — 
 
 " Stone us ! Tear us in pieces ! Come 
 on ; we are unarmed ! " 
 
 " We don't want to hurt the children ! " 
 
 " But the man-seller must begone ! " 
 
 " Yes, he must clear out ! " 
 
 "Be off! " 
 
 Again the tumult seemed increasing, the 
 rioters pushing one another forward. All 
 at once they recoiled, even those upon the 
 steps shrinking back. Beneath the great 
 door-way a white-robed form appeared, and 
 her hair was gray. 
 
 The noisy wretches in the court were 
 struck dumb, gazing upward with glances 
 of amazement. Those assembled on the 
 steps, turning round, saw the Professorin, 
 standing there like a being from another 
 world., from the boundless space of Eternity. 
 Stepping quietly to the balustrade, she first 
 raised and then lowered her hands as in 
 blessing, as if calming the stormy waves. 
 Profound silence reigned, and she spoke in 
 tones which might be heard a gj'eat way off : 
 
 " No man can expiate his brother's sin by 
 wrong-doing. Do not sin yourselves. Re- 
 strain yourselves, lest to-morrow you weep 
 over to-day." 
 
 Her voice grew more powerful, as she 
 said : — 
 
 ' ' Conquer yourselves ! " 
 
 Laying her hand on Sonnenkamp's shoul- 
 der, she said, in sonorous tones : — 
 
 " I promise you that this man, who has 
 already done good, shall perform a deed so 
 great as to reconcile you all to him. Do 
 you believe me ? " 
 
 " Yes, we believe the Professorin ! " 
 
 " Hurrah for the Professorin! Huzza! 
 Huzza ! " 
 
 " Come along home ! It's enough ! " 
 
 A man carrying a drum struck up a march, 
 when, just as the mob was about to depart, 
 something came rattling along, helmets 
 gleamed, the fire-engine came up, and a jet 
 of water suddenly spurted over them all. A 
 like shower came from the other side ; for 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 453 
 
 Joseph bad hastened to the head-gardener's, 
 and the hose was now used with effect. The 
 stream from either side rose high into the 
 air, and they all went off, grumbling, laugh- 
 ing, and cursing. 
 
 The men were still standing on the steps, 
 and Eric was the first to speak, saying : — 
 
 "Mother, you here? And from your 
 sick-bed ? This may cause your death. 11 
 
 " No, my son, it has given life to me, to 
 you, to all, and purity to all. I am ill no 
 longer; a great and beautiful and fortunate' 
 deed has saved me. 1 ' 
 
 Sonnenkamp, taking off his cloak, wrapped 
 the Professorin in it, and they led the old 
 lady, whose eyes shone wonderfully, into 
 the great hall, where she sat down, while 
 they all stood around her as about a saint. 
 
 Manna, kneeling before her, took her 
 hands, and wept copious tears upon them. 
 
 " Now I only beg for quiet, 11 said the 
 Professorin. "I am calm ; give me no fur- 
 ther excitement now. I heard it, I know 
 not how ; I came hither, I know not how. 
 Something called and impelled me, and it 
 has ended well. Oh, believe that every- 
 thing will yet turn out for the best. Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, give me your hand. I have 
 something to say to you." 
 
 ,"I will fulfil whatever you may com- 
 mand." 
 
 I " You must do something, although I do 
 not yet know what, in order to pacify the 
 minds of these people. 11 
 
 " I will. I will summon a jury, in the 
 choice of which you must assist me. To 
 them I will unfold my life, and into their 
 hands I will leave the decision of what is to 
 be done." 
 
 " That is a happy idea. To-morrow we 
 will carry it out. Now it is enough," said 
 the Professorin, in a tone soothing to the 
 others and to herself. " Manna, go to your 
 mother," added she. 
 
 Manna left the room. 
 
 It was late before those assembled in the 
 Villa separated. The Professorin must 
 spend the night there. Sonnenkamp would 
 not have it otherwise. He gave her the 
 best room in the house, and Eric sat by his 
 mother's bed until she fell asleep. 
 
 But without, on the banks of the Rhine, 
 stood a multitude, washing their black faces 
 clean again, and recovering from the effects 
 of the new wine. In the night a black wave 
 rolled past the Villa, and down the river to 
 the sea. 
 
 Oh ! If the black deed could only be thus 
 wiped off, and sunk in the ocean of Eter- 
 nity ! \ 
 
454 
 
 TUE COÜNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK XIII. CHAPTER I. 
 OBLITERATED TRACES. 
 
 The gardeners raked smooth the foot- 
 paths : thev bound up the down-trodden 
 shrubs again, removing the broken ones. 
 Even the grooms assisted to-day in the 
 garden, while up in the house the glaziers 
 were already busy, putting in new squares 
 of plate-glass. "When the gentlemen and 
 ladies wake up. they shall see as little as 
 possible ot* last night's tumult. 
 
 No one in the whole house awoke until 
 the morning was far spent. Even Manna 
 was not visible. Perhaps this was the first 
 time in her lite that she had omitted going 
 to chureh. The night's experience had 
 been hard for her to bear ; for when, after 
 the riot, she came to her mother, the latter 
 kept crying out. — 
 
 '* They will tar and feather him ! They 
 will tar and feather him ! Oh ! why did he 
 go among our enemies ? " 
 
 Her mother put her fingers in her ears ; 
 and when Manna tried to describe how the 
 Professorin had appeared as a rescuing 
 angel, Frau Ceres broke into loud laughter. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! Europeans allow old 
 women to tame them ! " 
 
 Manna was silent, and buried her face in 
 her hands. She had heard this riot long 
 beforehand in spirit ; and, as she stood on 
 the steps, she had felt that all this had pre- 
 viously been made known to her in dreams, 
 and that it would vanish like a dream. 
 
 Then, remembering her love, she realized 
 that life cannot be sacrified to another as 
 an expiation, but that it can be exalted 
 ibr another's sake. Once again horror 
 seized upon her soul. She heard the voices 
 of hell, and a hell opened within her. Hast 
 thou sinned in proving faithless '? Would 
 every thing have been better, would the 
 dreadful thing not have happened, if thou 
 hadst remained true ? Who knows whether, 
 through some secret working, every thing- 
 did not. become publicly known in the 
 capital in the very hour of thy perfidy ? 
 
 She wished to make her thoughts like 
 those of the martyrs, who endured stoning 
 with bowed heads ; but, in the midst of this 
 violent soul-torment, she only saw Eric's 
 image again ; and rising, as though he had 
 called her. she felt as if his hand were laid 
 upon her head. 
 
 Thus had Manna returned to her room, 
 full of tear, and yet rising again as upon a 
 wave of happiness : and thus she slept far into 
 the day, hearing nothing of the voice of the 
 bell which called her, and with no suspicion 
 
 of what was now being said about her ; for 
 not far from the church stood Pranken with 
 Fraulein Perini. 
 
 Ever since his return from town, Pranken 
 had felt a fresh irritation, which directed 
 it seit" more and more against Eric ; and, 
 at the arrival of Prince Valerian, he was 
 highly incensed on observing how every one 
 went instantly to Erie's chamber, as though 
 Eric were the centre of the house. " This 
 shall be changed," he said to himself. " This 
 teacher must find out who he is." By rea- 
 son of the riot, however, this teacher's 
 family had again become conspicuous ; the 
 pitiful canaille Inning allowed themselves 
 to be soothed by an old woman. 
 
 Pranken had walked furiously through 
 the park, and finally took the road leading 
 to the church. Here on this road, now, on 
 this morning, he would bring Manna to a 
 decision ; then he would have his own way 
 with the house, and discharge the teacher's 
 family. He waited long ; but Manna did 
 not come. At last, seeing Fräulein Perini 
 alone, he greeted her, and asked where 
 Manna Avas, and whether she was well. 
 
 " Why don't you ask after ?n/j health? " 
 replied she somewhat tartly. "I have 
 something of great importance to impart to 
 you ; but you do not seem to think it worth 
 while to trouble yourself about me." 
 
 " Indeed I do ; but you should reflect " — 
 
 " I do reflect that you ought to reflect 
 that I too have an existence. However, I 
 have something of great importance to 
 impart to you." 
 
 " Oh ! please, you were always so 
 kind " — 
 
 " Yes, yes, only too kind ; but you forget 
 me too quickly. Well, then, what would 
 you do if you were told that that arrogant 
 tutor aspired to win the hand of your 
 betrothed ? " 
 
 Fräulein Perini laughed, and Pranken 
 was t lightened, terrified. He had never 
 heard her laugh so ; and now she laughed 
 in exactly the same tone, and made precisely 
 the same bending of the neck, as little 
 Nelly. How ridiculous, how inconceivable, 
 that she should occur to his mind at this 
 juncture ! 
 
 " You seem in a very good humor after 
 the riot," said he, trying to appear jocose. 
 " You must tell me the rest after church : 
 the third bell is just ringing." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I can neglect church for this 
 matter. A work of mercy absolves " — 
 
 " A work of mercv ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 And now Fraulein Perini told how she 
 had seen Manna coming out of Eric's room; 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 455 
 
 and how every thing had evidently been 
 arranged in the greed cottage, and was now 
 settled ; also how the maid-servant of the 
 green cottage had even said that Manna 
 had taken with her the marriage-contract, 
 which had been drawn up in the library. 
 
 Pranken shook his head incredulously. 
 Fräulein Perini, however, stung him again 
 by asking whether he would promise, in 
 case he came into possession of Manna and 
 of all her property, to consecrate the Villa 
 as a convent. He shrugged his shoulders ; 
 and the look came again into Fräulein 
 Perini's eyes, which she had once given to 
 Bella after she had turned away. She 
 stung and irritated Pranken ; for she saw 
 that he still despised her, and she wished 
 to ruin him. He must promise her, that, if 
 the affair proved inevitable, he would chal- 
 lenge this Herr Dournay, and shoot him if 
 possible. 
 
 Pranken looked bewildered. Again an 
 old memory arose within him ; at the time 
 that he had travelled with Eric to Wolfs- 
 garten, he had seen this as in a vision. 
 Must it then take place ? He demurred, he 
 hung back ; he said that then he should 
 certainly lose Manna. If he fell, then all 
 would naturally be over. If he killed Eric, 
 Manna would never become the wife of a 
 man who had killed another on her account. 
 
 Fräulein Perini cast down her eyes, in 
 order to hide her malicious smile. Tilings 
 were now taking exactly the turn she had 
 wished ; Manna should lose them both, and 
 find in the convent her only refuge. 
 
 They had talked so long that church was 
 over, and as the clergyman came out, Fräu- 
 lein Perini went with him, and Pranken 
 turned back towards the Villa. He met the 
 Doctor and Eric, walking together and en- 
 gaged in earnest conversation. 
 
 The Doctor was in as good spirits as ever, 
 and Avas expounding to Eric how the fresh 
 must, which is so joyously drunk and which 
 tastes so deliciously, is, according to the as- 
 sertion of old people, a real cure, building 
 the whole body anew, so that it is taken 
 both for enjoyment and for the health. 
 " Thus the crisis caused by the intoxication 
 of the new wine is really good. So it is 
 with this riot. It has been beneficial in 
 many ways. The anger of the inhabitants 
 of the neighborhood has exceeded all rea- 
 sonable bounds, and has thus lost all pre- 
 tension of justice. On this side there is 
 nothing more to be feared. But even in the 
 house itself it is clear that life will hence- 
 forth be more vigorous. That they are all 
 sleeping is a good sign." 
 
 They met the Cooper, and the Doctor 
 
 would hear the whole story over again, 
 growing very merry over the account of the 
 effect produced in the park by the fire- 
 engine and the water-works. The Cooper 
 narrated how the engine had been quickly 
 made ready, as Herr Sonnenkamp had pre- 
 sented it with the very best hose. 
 
 They soon met a group of men, delegates 
 sent by the different communities to assure 
 Herr Sonnenkamp of their readiness to pro- 
 tect him in any emergency, if he would only 
 abstain from bringing an action for what 
 had occurred. 
 
 The Doctor begged the men to come back 
 on Sunday, saying that he would previously 
 inform Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 
 He turned back with Eric, and they were 
 not a little surprised at finding the Profes- 
 sorin already on the terrace with Manna. 
 The Doctor joked very merrily over the 
 genius of accident, which could accomplish 
 more than all science. He declared the 
 Professorin to be entirely cured. The Pro- 
 fessorin had recovered the best part of her- 
 self, namely, her calmness, her courage, and 
 the steadfast firmness of her character, and 
 she said, — 
 
 " There is a wonderful power of healing 
 in being at one with the great common 
 heart. That which all men know is no 
 longer so heavy and horrible ; the hardest 
 part of a criminal's fate must be the feeling 
 of isolation, of separation ; in the midst of 
 all society he must feel like a secluded pris- 
 oner, for he has something locked and hidden 
 within himself, which no one else must know 
 of." 
 
 As soon as the Professorin could trans- 
 pose an event and its consequences into the 
 sphere of abstract thought, it seemed no 
 longer to weigh upon her. Above all she 
 exhorted her son not to take it for granted 
 that something must be instantly done, say- 
 ing that it was of the first importance to 
 keep still. 
 
 The Doctor, on inquiring whether the 
 Countess Bella had not been there as yet, 
 was told that she had spoken with none of 
 the inhabitants of the Villa, except Herr 
 Sonnenkamp. 
 
 "KI am not much mistaken," said the 
 doctor, " Countess Bella will henceforth 
 feel an especial sympathy with the bold 
 Herr Sonnenkamp. It corresponds with 
 her nature, which defies the world and in- 
 clines to whatever is exceptional and- ex- 
 treme." 
 
 The Professorin, although Bella had deep- 
 ly wounded her, endeavored to correct the 
 doctor's opinion. 
 I Eric was silent ; he was amazed at the 
 
456 
 
 THE COÜNTRY-HOÜ 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 persistency with which the physician pur- 
 sued and explained the Countess's peculiar 
 nature. 
 
 The Doctor sent to ask Sonnenkamp 
 whether he wished to speak with hiin. The 
 reply was, that he would like to have him 
 first visit Frau Ceres. 
 
 " How do I look ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp had put this question to 
 Joseph, his valet, before rising ; indeed, on 
 first awaking. 
 
 " As usual, sir." 
 
 He asked for a hand-glass, then giving it 
 again to the servant, lay back among the 
 pillows with closed eyes. He must have 
 had the strange idea that the emotions of 
 the past night could be read upon his fea- 
 tures. It was long ere he left his chamber. 
 He had told Joseph that he wished to be 
 alone. He heard the raking of the paths, 
 outside, and the steps of men going to and 
 fro. He Avould wait until the traces of de- 
 vastation Avithout were removed, as far as 
 possible ; he would wait until he was able 
 to obliterate the traces left within him by 
 this experience. He sat long alone ; only 
 his favorite dog was with him. His heavy 
 head weighed him down like a cannon ball ; 
 yet he repeated to himself, — 
 
 " I must recover my composure ; for I 
 alone can help myself." 
 
 " Thou alone ? " he asked again, and his 
 thoughts passed to Bella. There is a woman 
 such as he has never found before. There 
 is courage, power, genius. But in what can 
 even she help him ? Nothing. No one. 
 
 Then, laying his hand on the dog's head, 
 he thought : " Two bugbears are the worst 
 enemies we have in the world, — fear before 
 the deed, and repentance after it. With 
 these quackeries we squander our existence. 
 He alone is fre.e who fears no future and 
 rues no past." 
 
 " I will be free ! " cried he. 
 
 " I am so within myself ; but where will 
 freedom be allowed me ? I must go back 
 to America. No, to Italy, to Paris, to new 
 surroundings. 
 
 But the children, the children ! They 
 are filled with thoughts which take from 
 them home and parents. Thy best course, 
 after all, is to remain here, to despise man- 
 kind, whose hatred will gradually be blunt- 
 ed. Perhaps, too, there may be found some 
 means of appeasing their wrath, which will 
 have a penitent aspect. Was it the Profes- 
 sorin, or I myself, who spoke yesterday of a 
 jury ? That's the thing ! Come on, World ! 
 I am myself again, and nothing else. 
 
 High above all these recent occurrences 
 arose again in him the hatred of Crutius. 
 
 " How he is now rubbing his hands in his 
 
 editorial office, where the little gas-jet burns ! 
 How he will rejoice at the signal-rocket 
 which has roused the masses ! How the 
 riot will figure in the newspapers I " 
 
 He now rang, and, sending for Eric, re- 
 minded him how he had formerly publicly 
 exalted the gratitude and good manners of 
 the people. Now, he said with a laugh, he 
 must also properly expose their misbeha- 
 vior ; he must, anticipating all other re- 
 ports, describe the whole thing naturally as 
 an extravagance inspired by the new and 
 effervescent wine. At the close, he must 
 add that Herr Sonnenkamp (for that was 
 his name, lawfully derived from the mater- 
 nal side of the house) would do something 
 which should correct and satisfy public 
 opinion. 
 
 He thought Eric pedantic, for wishing to 
 know at once whether any thing was to be 
 done. 
 
 What's the use ? 
 
 We show the public something prospec- 
 tive ; but it is not necessary that this should 
 be brought to pass ; men forget what has 
 been promised them. 
 
 This he wished to say to Eric, but with- 
 held it, merely telling him that he might 
 let the whole thing alone if he chose. 
 
 Just as Eric had left the room, came the 
 dog-keeper, exclaiming, — 
 
 " Oh, sir, she is poisoned ! " 
 
 " Who is poisoned ? " 
 
 " The good beastie, Nora ; in the night, 
 during the riot, the shameful men gave her 
 something, apparently a toadstool roasted 
 in grease. She is dying now." 
 
 " Where is she ? " 
 
 " Before the kennel." 
 
 Sonnenkamp went with the keeper to the 
 enclosure where the dogs were. There lay 
 Nora, with her loosened chain beside her. 
 
 " Nora ! " he cried. 
 
 The dog wagged its tail once more, raised 
 its head, and blinked. Then the head fell, 
 and she was dead. 
 
 The glance of the beast was piteous. 
 Sonnenkamp seemed to wish to torture him- 
 self with gazing at her. 
 
 " Bury the dog before Roland sees her, he 
 said at last. 
 
 " Where shall we bury her ? " 
 
 Yonder, by the ash. But first skin her : 
 the hide is worth something. 
 
 "No, sir, I cannot : I loved the dog too well 
 to skin it." 
 
 "Very well. Then bury it skin and all." 
 
 He turned away and wandered about the 
 garden ; yet he could not refrain from re- 
 turning to the spot where the dog was being 
 buried. 
 
 " Yes," he said aloud to himself : " that's 
 
THE COÜNTRY-HOÜ 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 457 
 
 the "way. The world gives us a toadstool 
 roasted in fat. The world is a toadstool 
 roasted in fat — palatable, but poisonous ! " 
 
 He returned to the house. 
 
 The other dogs were howling quite 
 frightfully, as though they knew that one of 
 their comrades had departed. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 TWELVE MEN. 
 
 Pranken, who remained true to Sonnen- 
 kamp, was often full of solicitude. At times 
 he looked very strangely at his friends, but 
 did not give utterance to his projects. Son- 
 nenkamp knew that something was going on. 
 He knew through Lootz that Pranken had 
 several times received letters with large 
 seals, one bearing the seal of the Court- 
 Marshal's office, another that of the Minis- 
 try of State. He would have liked to 
 ask him whether negotiations were pend- 
 ing, with a view to the attainment of the 
 longed-for dignity. He looked at him in- 
 quiringly ; but Pranken remained reticent. 
 Sonnenkamp even pressed him not to dis- 
 dain his assistance, saying that he was wise 
 in some things, even though he had acted 
 imprudently. 
 
 Pranken said that there were things 
 which he must decide for himself, and which 
 he hoped to put through successfully. He 
 hinted that the world, even the little world 
 of the city, was made up of different fac- 
 tions. 
 
 As he condescended to say no more, 
 Sonnenkamp resolved to have recourse to 
 an old method, and one which could here be 
 very easily employed. He would obtain by 
 theft, through the agency of Lootz, the let- 
 ters which Pranken had received. He re- 
 jected this course, however. Yet once, when 
 Pranken had ridden in haste to the railway 
 station, just after he had received another 
 large letter, he went toward his room. He 
 would have no go-between. He could surely 
 get possession of the letters, and Pranken 
 was no doubt careless enough to render un- 1 
 necessary breaking open any locks or pick- 
 ing them. 
 
 In a sudden attack of loyalty, however, he 
 turned away from the threshold. 
 
 Pranken returned, bringing-the news that 
 he was in danger ; but earnestly begged to 
 be excused from giving any particulars. 
 
 Sonnenkamp embraced the excited young 
 man, and made him promise not to engage 
 in any duel without his knowledge. 
 
 Reluctuantly Pranken gave him his hand 
 upon this, and departed. 
 
 While Eric was yet at his mother's, Son- 
 
 nenkamp came thither with a letter in his 
 hand. He first expressed his joy at seeing 
 the Professorin so full of new life ; then, say- 
 ing that he had a letter from her friend, he 
 handed her one written by Professor Einsie- 
 del, and added with a smile : 
 
 "These learned gentlemen have very good 
 memories. I had forgotten having invited 
 the man." 
 
 The Professorin read Einsiedel's letter, in 
 which he said that he should not be lectur- 
 ing next winter, and was ready to accept 
 Sonnenkamp's invitation, and to take up 
 his abode for some time at Villa Eden. 
 
 As the Professorin smilingly gave back the 
 letter, a gleam of furtive triumph shot from 
 Sonnenkamp's eyes. Then this new speci- 
 men of humanity, this puritanic infidel, has 
 her own private affinity. Perhaps she felt 
 the malicious glance ; for she said, in a very 
 decided manner,* — 
 
 "I should be very glad to have the noble 
 man come to us. His visit would be a great 
 deal to me, and, perhaps, to others also. 
 In the first place, I know of nothing better 
 for Roland ; for you, Eric, are so entirely 
 accustomed to him, that you do not now of- 
 fer him that support which he, perhaps, 
 may need for a long time yet." 
 
 Sonnenkamp's countenance relaxed. It 
 was nothing after all. This woman seemed 
 in truth noble and pure ; for she was not so 
 prudent, no one could be so prudent, as to 
 assume forthwith such a mask of virtue. 
 He was not a little astonished, however, 
 when Eric, with all sorts of excuses and 
 pretexts, gave it as his opinion that it 
 was not wise to transport the Professor's 
 delicately organized nature at this time into 
 their stormy life. 
 
 Just because Eric sought so earnestly to . 
 defend himself against such a suspicion, it 
 became clearer to Sonnenkamp that he did 
 not feel justified in bringing any new per- 
 son into close relations with his family. 
 
 Inwardly chafing, but yet smiling with 
 an excess of friendliness, he said that he 
 would invite the Professor, and would leave 
 him free to stay either at the green cottage 
 or at the villa. 
 
 The mother gave her voice for the former. 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded very approvingly. 
 He summoned a servant, and ordered that 
 no one should interrupt them. Then, ad- 
 dressing both, he said that he had some- 
 thing momentous to discuss with them ; that 
 it was a step which concerned his inmost 
 soul, and which alone could make him whol- 
 ly free. 
 
 Eric and his mother trembled. Did Son- 
 nenkamp already know ? He, meanwhile, 
 seated himself calmly and began : 
 
458 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Noble lady, you have done a great thing 
 for me, and now I commit into your hands, 
 and your keeping, my fate and that of those 
 who belong to me." » 
 
 He made a pause and then proceeded : 
 
 " From out of the midst of the riot one 
 thought has remained with me. It was of 
 sudden birth ; • and now the question is, how 
 to carry it out. Already on Sunday, when 
 I was going to church, where the beggar 
 insulted me, it was my intention " — 
 
 " Pray, do not forget what you were going 
 to say," interposed the Professorin. " Per- 
 mit me to interrupt you with a question." 
 
 " Go on. I am ready." 
 
 " Does the source of all your wealth lie 
 in that?" 
 
 " No, not a sixth of it. Even my enemies 
 know that." 
 
 " Then please proceed. You had begun, 
 * as you were going to church ' " — 
 
 " Yes, then it was my intention, in spite 
 of my unbelief, to confess to a priest. I 
 acknowledge, Herr von Pranken was not 
 without influence in this matter; but it 
 originated, nevertheless, with me. This 
 institution of the confession in our church 
 is a grand thing. Offences for which no 
 earthly judge can punish, for which no 
 clause is to be found in the law, are blotted 
 out ; we are absolved from them by a man 
 filled with the divine grace by consecration, 
 sympathetic, considerate, who neither knows 
 nor sees the penitent, yet who hears the 
 breath of his quivering confession ; who is 
 so far from him, and yet so near ! 
 
 The Mother looked down. 
 
 " Wonderful and ever new, how the man 
 can speak of such acts ! " she thought. 
 
 Sonnenkamp felt what the lady thought 
 of him, and exclaimed, — 
 
 " Look me in the face ! Yes, noble lady, 
 you hindered the execution of my purpose." 
 
 it T ? » 
 
 " Yes, you ; for, thinking better of it, I 
 said to myself that I would tell you all, 
 gazing at your open face, and that you had 
 the power to absolve and to blot out ; but 
 no, you, too, have it not." 
 
 The Professorin breathed more freely. 
 
 Sonnenkamp continued, — 
 
 " You once let fall the word — I know not 
 whether you spoke it or I — but it was 
 uttered, and so it stands. 'In the new 
 world, where the laws are not yet so firmly 
 established, they summon a jury of neigh- 
 bors.' I wish to summon a jury of free men, 
 before whom I will stand openly. They 
 shall judge me freely. I wish to unite trial 
 by jury Avith confession, and I vow to fulfil 
 what these men shall enjoin upon me as a 
 
 means of expiation. Having returned to 
 Europe, I owe the European world either a 
 deed of atonement, or else the endeavor to 
 convert it. Do you comprehend my mean- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " Perfectly. There must be something 
 redeeming, in submission to the verdict of 
 an assemblage of free men." 
 
 " I see that you understand me fully," said 
 Sonnenkamp with great serenity. " And 
 now give me your advice. Whom do you 
 propose as members of this moral jury, as 
 we may call it ? In the first place, I must 
 refuse Herr von Pranken. He is my son, 
 and cannot be my judge." 
 
 " I should not be able to name any one 
 without reflection. Please — I am yet too 
 weak. This deliberation, this seeking, this 
 thought-travelling, causes me physical pain." 
 
 " Then calm yourself. Herr Dournay, 
 you have heard all — Have you, though ? " 
 he repeated, on observing Eric's abstracted 
 glance. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, every thing." 
 
 " And now, whom would you propose ? " 
 
 " First of all, the most sensible of men 
 has to-day himself announced his arrival." 
 
 " Well, well, I accept him. And then ? " 
 
 " Herr Weidmann." 
 
 " Weidmann ? He is the uncle of my 
 most bitter enemy." 
 
 " But on that very account he will be 
 just." 
 
 " He was an abettor in the production of 
 Herr Crutius' newspaper article." 
 
 " From that imputation he is cleared. He 
 charged Prince Valerian expressly to tell 
 you that he disapproved of Herr Crutius' 
 conduct throughout." 
 
 " And even if Herr Weidmann were your 
 enemy," put in the Professorin : " it is just 
 your enemies whom you must seek to con- 
 ciliate." 
 
 " You are a wonderful woman : you shall 
 have your way. You shall see how 
 thoroughly in earnest I am. So, then, Herr 
 Weidmann ; and who else ? " 
 
 " Count Wolfsgarten." 
 
 " Accepted without opposition. Go on ! " 
 
 " The Justice." 
 
 " Also accepted." 
 
 " Then I should like to plead for a man 
 whom you, perhaps " — 
 
 " Only speak out plainly. Who is it ? " 
 cried Sonnerkamp impatiently. 
 
 " The field-guard." 
 
 " The field-guard? " laughed Sonnenkamp. 
 " For all I care ! And I give you the 
 Doctor at once, into the bargain. But now, 
 Herr Dournay, set about it at once : the 
 business must be begun immediately." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 459 
 
 "Who will remain with Roland mean- 
 while ? " Eric would have asked, but re- 
 strained himself, in obedience to a sign from 
 his mother, who seemed to have divined the 
 question he would fain have asked. She 
 nodded. " You can leave Roland and 
 Manna to me," she seemed to say. 
 
 "You have entirely forgotten our good 
 Major," she said aloud, in a cheerful tone. 
 
 " Because he is understood as a matter of 
 course, and also the Priest," replied Sonnen- 
 kamp. 
 
 Eric named, besides, Prince Valerian, the 
 Banker, and Knopf. The number was full. 
 
 Sonnenkamp urged that not an hour 
 should be lost, and Eric ordered a horse 
 saddled. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HAND OF RECONCILIATION IS NOT 
 GRASPED. 
 
 Before Eric started, Manna came to 
 him, saying that she must immediately go 
 to the convent; that she thought it her 
 duty, above all, to confess the truth there, 
 and that she did not wish to postpone any 
 thing so difficult, but to undertake it at 
 once. 
 
 Eric was perplexed. Why should Manna 
 wish to re-enter the convent? He soon 
 recognized in this desire, however, the im- 
 pulse to do something, not to remain in inac- 
 tivity ; and, moreover, the manner in which 
 she sought to sever the old ties in peace 
 was thoroughly noble : so he merely said, — 
 
 " Only do not forget that you are no 
 longer justified in imposing castigations and 
 mortifications upon yourself, or in allowing 
 them to be enjoined upon you by others ; 
 for you no longer belong to yourself, 
 Manna, you are mine : you must neither 
 torture my Manna, nor allow others to tor- 
 ture her." 
 
 Manna looked at him with beaming eyes, 
 and from out of all her tribulation sounded 
 a serene voice, as she said, — 
 
 " It was through you, Eric, that I came to 
 this resolution." 
 
 " Through me ? " 
 
 " Yes. You told me how much good it 
 did you, when one of your comrades, after 
 you had taken leave of him, came to you 
 and said, ' Do not think hardly of me if I 
 ignore you. You could not do otherwise; 
 and I neither can nor dare do otherwise.' 
 I am going to imitate you and your comrade. 
 The souls of those in the convent shall not 
 be burdened with my desertion, which they 
 must consider as apostasy." 
 
 Manna wished that Aunt Claudine should 
 accompany her ; but Eric thought it more 
 fitting that she should travel with Roland. 
 The brother and sister would thus be alone 
 together, out in the world; and Roland 
 would have to protect his sister, to render 
 her services which would lift him out of his 
 state of dead dejection, out of his heavy, 
 monotonous sorrow. 
 
 " You can scarcely imagine how happy 
 it makes me to let you command me," said 
 Manna, as Eric arranged every thing. 
 
 Roland agreed at once. 
 
 " But you must ask your parents' leave," 
 was the next order ; and the children felt 
 painfully that this was but a form : every 
 thing was torn asunder and rent to shreds ; 
 all obedience and all dependence. 
 
 " Manna, now is the time," said Roland, 
 in great agitation. 
 
 " For what ? " ■ 
 
 " You ask father ; perhaps he will tell you 
 whether we have no blood-relations in Eu- 
 rope. Whoever they may be, they ought 
 to come to us now. It is hard enough 
 that we have never troubled ourselves about 
 them." 
 
 Manna looked imploringly up to Eric, 
 who, rightly discerning in the youth the 
 instinctive longing for family ties, begged 
 them to abstain from urging the matter for 
 the present, saying that the time for it 
 would come by and by. 
 
 Manna went to her father, and said that 
 she wished to go to the convent. 
 
 Sonnenkamp was alarmed, but quickly 
 regained his composure on Manna's adding 
 that she went thither for the last time, in 
 order to bid farewell forever, as she had 
 decided never to become a nun. 
 
 In spite of all its distortion, a gleam of 
 triumphant satisfaction lighted up Sonnen- 
 kamp's face. 
 
 " Do you see at last ? They knew — I now 
 have certain evidence that they knew — what 
 money, and in what manner earned, you 
 brought them. Did they ever say a word 
 to you about being unable to accept it ? " 
 
 Manna avoided this view of the question. 
 She would gladly have confessed all to her 
 father at once, but had not yet the courage. 
 Moreover, she had promised Eric to follow 
 his guidance implicitly. 
 
 The weather was foggy and cold, as the 
 brother and sister, and Fräulein Perini, went 
 down the river : yet the journey refreshed 
 them, for Roland said after a short time, — 
 
 " Ah ! There is a world outside after all ! " 
 
 Towards noon, the sun pierced through 
 the mist, which melted away, and every thing 
 became suddenly bright. The vessel steamed 
 
460 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 down the stream, shooting rapidly along 
 over the clear water, between the sun-illu- 
 mined mountains, on which, here and there, 
 harvests were still being gathered. 
 
 The passengers stood or walked on deck, 
 enjoying the wide prospect ; but below in 
 the cabin, lay Manna, with closed eyes, not 
 heeding Fräulein Perini's injunction to come 
 up and refresh herself with the view and 
 the free air, only begging to be left alone. 
 And so she lay and thought, half dreaming, 
 half awake, of all that had happened to her 
 and hers. How utterly different it was 
 when she went up the river, with Roland, 
 last spring ! Eric's warning came into her 
 mind, how wealth, and the ease with which 
 it enables one to make disposition of exter- 
 nal means and of those who serve, seduce us 
 into healing ourselves with amusements and 
 outward remedies. 
 
 This reproach did not now trouble her : 
 she only wished to part peacefully from a 
 Past, under obligations contracted in her 
 soul to the friendly souls there, which she 
 wished to fulfil, even though outwardly sep- 
 arating herself from them. Her soul lay 
 bound by obligations to the women yonder : 
 she wanted to take care to be truly com- 
 prehended, even though she was outwardly 
 cutting herself off from them. 
 
 The difference of faith between Eric and 
 herself again arose before her. But what 
 course remained to her ? To become un- 
 true there to the pioas sisters, or here 
 to Eric ; but no, that was no longer possi- 
 ble. She hoped that the great soul of the 
 Superior would give her calmness ; and 
 thus she lay, sunk in a half-slumber during 
 the whole trip. 
 
 On deck, Fräulein Perini was glad, on 
 the whole, that Manna had remained unseen ; 
 for here and there among the passengers 
 Sonncnkamp was mentioned, and the report 
 was, that the Prince's negro had lifted him 
 up with both hands, and had carried him, 
 struggling, down the staircase, until he was 
 set at liberty by the servants, who brought 
 him to the carriage. An agent, whom Fräu- 
 lein Perini knew, was already wondering 
 who would buy the Villa, for it was absolute- 
 ly certain that the man would not remain 
 there. 
 
 In the forward cabin, where Lootz had en- 
 sconced himself, he was obliged to hear the 
 fruiterers who were carrying to the Lower 
 Rhine the fruit which they had brought 
 from Sonnenkamp's head-gardener, saying 
 one to another, that they would not be will- 
 ing to take a mouthful of fruit cultivated 
 by this man. They granted him the merit, 
 however, of having done much toward the 
 
 introduction of a species of apples which 
 grew easily and bore well. 
 
 At the last stopping-place but one before 
 the Island Cloister, two black-robed nuns 
 came on board. Fräulein Perini, who knew 
 one of them, went down with them into the 
 cabin where Manna was sleeping. Both 
 nuns placed themselves opposite to her, took 
 out their prayer-books, and prayed for the 
 poor soul lying there in the sleep of sorrow. 
 
 Manna opened her eyes and gazed around 
 in astonishment. She knew not where she 
 was. One of the nuns — it was the shy one, 
 who always kept in the background — wel- 
 comed her in the French language, and 
 bade her comfortingly, resign herself to all 
 that she must endure. 
 
 Manna sat up. So, then, the news had 
 already reached even their ears ! She went 
 on deck with Roland and the three ladies. 
 The Island cloister came into view. Every 
 thing was so clear and bright, that she 
 felt as though she had now suddenly returned 
 to earth. There was every thing, just as it 
 used to be, seeming to look at her with the 
 question, " Where hast thou been this long 
 time ? " 
 
 They got into the boat, and were rowed 
 toward the island. Every tree, every bench, 
 every shrub, greeted her like a long-van- 
 ished Past. She cast a melancholy glance 
 at the beautiful round seat on the landing- 
 place, where she had so often sat with 
 Heimchen. Now wet leaves lay upon the 
 bench. 
 
 They reached the convent. 
 
 Manna sent her name at once to the 
 Superior, but received the answer that she 
 must first remain an hour in the church, 
 and then come to her. 
 
 Manna understood what this meant ; but 
 did the Superior, then, already know of her 
 defection ? She went towards the church, 
 but remained standing at the door, without 
 entering. She feared the picture within, 
 knowing that she could not do otherwise 
 than raise her eyes towards it, and yet that 
 must not be. She turned round again, and 
 went out towards the park. She heard the 
 children in the house playing together ; she 
 heard singing in another class ; she knew 
 how all were sitting ; she knew every 
 bench ; approaching the fir-tree where she 
 had so often sat, she saw that the seat was 
 no longer there. On the kneeling-stool where 
 Heimchen used to sit, lay Avithered leaves. 
 " To Heimchen," said a voice within her. 
 Turning back, it seemed to her, in passing 
 the convent, as though she were guilty of 
 rebellion and sin in not having obeyed the 
 Superior's command. She came into the 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 461 
 
 churchyard. On Heimchen's grave stood 
 a cross with this inscription in golden 
 letters : — 
 
 " The child is not dead, but sleepeth." — 
 Mark v. 39. 
 
 " How ? " cried Manna. " Why these 
 words here ? They are spoken in Scripture 
 of that child who was re-awakened on its 
 death-bed, but not of a buried one." 
 
 She sank down upon the grave, and her 
 thoughts grew confused : she lost all con- 
 sciousness of the passage of time. At last, 
 composing herself, she turned back toward 
 the convent. Admitted into the reception- 
 room, she was still obliged to wait alone ; 
 the pictures on the wall seeming to with- 
 draw into the distance if she looked up at 
 them. 
 
 At last came the Superior. Manna, 
 hastening toward her, would have thrown 
 herself upon her neck ; but she stood rigid, 
 winding both ends of her hempen girdle 
 around the forefingers of her right and left 
 hand, so that the rope cut into the flesh. 
 
 Manna sank down at her feet. 
 
 "Rise," said the Superior severely. "We 
 suffer no vehemence here. It is to be hoped 
 you yet remember this. Have you been in 
 the church ? " 
 
 " No," said Manna, rising. 
 
 It Was long ere the Superior spoke. She 
 probably expected Manna to acknowledge 
 her transgression ; but Manna could not 
 utter a sound. Every thing that ?4ie had 
 experienced, and that was now within her, 
 seemed to crowd upon her at once. 
 
 " I came hither," she began at last, " in 
 order to leave no sorrow in your heart, 
 Reverend mother, at my ingratitude. Your 
 treatment of me has been most noble : you 
 have " — 
 
 " No praise. Nothing about me. Speak 
 of yourself." 
 
 " My memory must not be a grief to you. 
 I came to beseech you " — 
 
 '• Why do you hesitate so long ? Speak 
 out ! What do you wish ? " 
 
 " Nothing save your faith in the honora- 
 ble struggle through which I have passed. 
 I could not do otherwise. I am betrothed 
 to Eric Dournay." 
 
 " How, to whom ? Did I rightly under- 
 stand you ? Is Herr von Pranken dead ? 
 You are — But no. Speak ! " 
 
 Faithfully and openly did Manna ac- 
 quaint her with all that had happened, 
 standing erect, and speaking in a firm voice. 
 When she had ended, the Superior said, — 
 
 " So you have not come to do penance ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " For what, then ? " 
 
 Manna, grasping her brow, said, — 
 
 " Have I then not clearly confessed that 
 I do not feel myself culpable ? I came in 
 order to offer you thanks, heartfelt thanks," 
 for the good which you did me in time of 
 need, and my memory must not be a sorrow 
 to you. You yourself once told me that 
 the battle which I must fight with life would 
 be a hard one. I have not sustained it, 
 or rather — only, I implore you, be not 
 wounded. Grant me a peaceful resting- 
 place in your memory." 
 
 " Do you wish that, even now ? Yes, 
 that is the way with the children of this 
 world. Even the suicides demand a conse- 
 crated grave. You are dead, and can have 
 no grave in our holy ground. You stretch 
 out your hand for reconciliation, but of 
 what sort ? Your hand is not clasped." 
 
 A lay sister entered, bearing a request 
 from Fräulein Perini to be admitted into 
 the presence of the Superior and Manna. 
 
 She entered. 
 
 " Have you any thing to say ? " asked 
 the Superior, turning towards Fräulein 
 Perini. 
 
 " Yes. Here stands Fräulein Manna. 
 I remind her before you, worthy mother, of 
 a sacred promise which Fräulein Manna 
 obtained from me." 
 
 " A promise ? From you ? 
 
 " Yes. You, Fräulein Manna, extorted 
 from me a promise to hold you fast with 
 all manner of punishments and of bonds, 
 if the spirit of apostasy should ever gain a 
 foothold in your soul. Did you not, 
 Manna?" 
 
 « I did." 
 
 " And now ? " asked the Superior. 
 
 " Now I belong to myself no longer. I 
 no longer call any thing my own : no pos- 
 session, not even myself. I cannot give in 
 expiation what is not mine." • 
 
 The three women stood long in silence. 
 Finally the Superior said, — 
 
 " Have you confessed to the Priest ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 The Superior had turned away, and spoke 
 with averted face : — 
 
 " We force you not. We bind you not. 
 We could ; but we do not wish to. Go, go ! 
 I will see your face no more ! Go ! Alas, 
 what a hell you bear within you ! The 
 trace of your footsteps here shall disappear. 
 No, I will hear nothing more. Go ! Has 
 she gone ? Do not answer me. Dear Perini, 
 tell me — is she gone ? " 
 
 " She is going," replied Fräulein Perini. 
 
 " Where is my sister ? " they suddenly 
 heard Roland's loud voice saying. 
 
 The door was thrown violently open. 
 
462 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Roland, quickly perceiving what had been 
 going on, cried, — 
 
 " You have humiliated yourself suffi- 
 ciently : come with me." He seized Manna 
 by the hand, and left the convent with her. 
 
 When they were in the open air, Roland 
 said he had been unable to endure the sus- 
 pense any longer. He had feared lest 
 Manna would allow herself to be maltreated, 
 enduring unkindness as a penance. 
 
 " And that you must not do, even if you 
 could bear it yourself, for Eric's sake. You 
 must not allow Eric's betrothed to be in- 
 sulted and abused." 
 
 How Manna's eyes shone as she gazed 
 into Roland's glowing countenance ! 
 
 " It is over," she said. " A whole world 
 is swallowed up behind me. It is well that 
 it is over." 
 
 Fräulein Perini remained some time 
 longer with the Superior, then followed 
 Manna. Sitting beside her in the boat, she 
 said in a peculiar low whisper, — 
 
 " I was obliged to say that. I could not 
 do otherwise." 
 
 Manna held out her hand, saying, — 
 
 " You only did your duty. I am not 
 angry with you. Forgive me." 
 
 Manna knew not how she had left the 
 convent. Only when she embraced Roland 
 did' her tears begin to fall. On their home- 
 ward journey she did not go below, but sat 
 on the deck beside Roland, looking at the 
 landscape with her great black eyes wide 
 open. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TRANQUILLITY ON THE ROAD, AND UN- 
 REST AT HOME. 
 
 On his way to Mattenheim, Eric met 
 the Major.' He felt cheerful enough to tell 
 him that he was scouring the country as if 
 enlisting a corps of firemen ; and, when 
 he explained the meaning of his words, the 
 Major needed no urging to agree to his part. 
 He looked on the affair in the light of a 
 court of honor, from which no one should 
 shrink. 
 
 " Poor man ! Poor man ! " he repeated, 
 over and over again, " He was not open 
 with me ; but then, neither was she. I do 
 not take it ill of him. She was not so either : 
 it was the first time in her life. She " — 
 this was of course, Fräulein Milch — " knew 
 that I could not endure it. I can do much, 
 comrade : you would not believe how much 
 I can do. But there is one thing of which I 
 am incapable ; and that is hypocrisy. Ican- 
 not have friendly intercourse with a man 
 
 whom I neither love nor esteem. I knew 
 that the man had been a slaveholder ; and 
 I have always said that no one who asso- 
 ciates with poodles can keep off the fleas : 
 and who would believe that the man could 
 utter so many kindly words? And with 
 you, comrade, he talked like a sage, like a 
 saint. I, with my dull brains, cannot make 
 out, and even Herr Weidmann could not 
 help me, why the good children must suffer 
 all this. But now I will explain it to you. 
 Now I know the reason. It came into my 
 head on the road. This is how it is. I 
 have not learned much. I used to be a 
 drummer : I'll tell you my story some time." 
 
 " Yes ; but what have you discovered ? " 
 
 " J ust so she always reminds me when I 
 wander off from what I was saying. This 
 is it. You see, man, as it says in Scripture, 
 is born in pain, trouble ; and the human soul 
 is also born in pain, want, and misery. We 
 poor fellows know that ; and that is why 
 rich and distinguished people are not fair- 
 ly in the world. I mean — you know — 
 and now our Roland is born anew, into true 
 nobility, for the first time. The Prince can 
 ennoble the name, but not the soul, you 
 understand ; so it is. And our Roland is 
 now the real nobleman. To endure evil 
 and do good, that is the motto which he 
 has now received ; and that is a device which 
 has yet been engraved upon no knightly 
 shield : but you see it stands written within, 
 and there it will remain." 
 
 The Major pointed to his heart with a 
 trembling hand. Eric listened in astonish- 
 ment, as this timid man, so »low of speech, 
 uttered all this, with many interruptions, it is 
 true, but with great fervor; and now the 
 Major reminded him how they had torment- 
 ed themselves with the problem of what 
 Roland should do with so much money, 
 and said that it was now decided, once for 
 all, he must do nothing but good with it. 
 
 When, at last, Eric was about to separate 
 from the Major, the latter held him fast once 
 again, saying, — 
 
 " Listen only to this one thing more. I 
 was a drummer : I'll tell you the story some 
 day. I became an officer ; and my comrades 
 did not dream how they honored me, when 
 they used secretly, thinking I did not hear 
 it, to call me Capt. Drumsticks, or, for 
 shortness, even Sticks. Yes : they did honor 
 to the Capt. Sticks ; tor, from that time 
 forward, it became clear to me. I was un- 
 able to explain it so to myself, but she made 
 me understand : she knows every' thing. 
 Yes : so it is. He is only half alive whom 
 Fortune has made into something. Misfor- 
 tune is the Holy Spirit, saying to man- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 kind, 'Arise and walk.' You understand 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes," said Eric earnestly, pressing the 
 old man's valiant hand and riding on. 
 
 Looking back, he saw the veteran still 
 standing on the same spot. He nodded to 
 the horseman, as though he would have said 
 to him, in the distance, Yes : to you I have 
 given good baggage, — my best. You will 
 not lose it ; and now, if I die, it is in the 
 possession of one who will keep it, and not 
 give it away. He thanked the Builder of 
 all the worlds, that he had caused him to pass 
 through so much that was hard, and yet al- 
 ways to come out of it unharmed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Eric was riding cheerfully 
 towards Mattenheim. On the way, however, 
 he turned round. It seemed to him that he 
 was bound in honor to summon Clodvvig 
 first. That in forming this resolution he was 
 also influenced by an impulse of curiosity as 
 to how Bella was now behaving, he frankly 
 acknowledged to himself: nevertheless, he 
 rode first to Wolfsgarten. 
 
 The parrot shrieked from the open window, 
 as though wishing to inform all the inhabit- 
 ants of the arrival of so unusual a guest ; for 
 it was long since Eric had been there. He 
 thought he had discerned the form of Bella 
 in the room adjoining that at whose open 
 window the parrot hung ; but she did not 
 show herself again. 
 
 Entering Clodwig's room, he found him, 
 for the first time, in a state of despondency. 
 He must also have had some bodily ailment ; 
 since he did not rise, as had always been 
 his wont, greeting his young friend with as 
 much formality as heartiness. 
 
 " I knew that you would come to me," 
 said Clodwig, breathing hard, but speaking 
 in a mild voice. 
 
 " If one spirit can influence another at a 
 distance, you and your mother must have felt 
 most clearly that I was with you at this 
 time. And now, if you please, let us talk 
 very quietly, as I am somewhat indisposed. 
 Let us forget, first of all, that we are starved 
 by intercourse with that man. I think we 
 ought, in this case, to think of him, and not 
 of ourselves. See," — taking up a phial, — 
 " look at this. I take a childish delight in 
 this new chemical stuff, which looks exactly 
 like clear water, and yet serves to efface a 
 written word without scratching the paper at 
 at all ; and now I am thinking, ought Ave 
 not to be able to find some moral agency 
 similar to this ? " 
 
 Eric, seeing the matter which he had in 
 hand immediately referred to, laid the plan 
 of the jury before Clodwig, and called upon 
 him to bear his part in it. Clodwig de- 
 
 4G3 
 
 clined, with the remark that Herr Sonnen- 
 kamp, or whatever his name was, must have 
 a court of his peers, — men of similar rank, 
 or, rather, of a similar profession with him- 
 self. He, for his part, was no peer of Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, or whatever he called himself. 
 
 Eric reminded his friend, with great cau- 
 tion, of his having dwelt on the equality of 
 privileges at Heilingthal ; but Clodwig seem- 
 ed to give no heed to these words. 
 
 There must have been a great weight on 
 the soul of this man, usually so attentive ; 
 for, without noticing Eric's reminder, he re- 
 lated how much he had exerted himself in 
 these latter days for the American, some 
 hot heads at court having wished to summon 
 him before a tribunal on a charge of high 
 treason. This idea had been very repulsive 
 to the Prince, who had written Clodwig a 
 etter with his own hand, thanking him 
 for lhaving given his counsel against any 
 elevation to the ranks of the nobility. 
 Clodwig had thereupon advised the Prince 
 to desist from any further proceedings 
 against the man, who, he said, had been al- 
 lured and seduced into things with which he 
 should have nothing to do. 
 
 Again Eric expressed his wish that Clod- 
 wig would assist at the trial. 
 
 He merely replied, — 
 
 " I will inform the Court that the man 
 summons a tribunal of his own accord. It 
 will have a good effect there; and to ob- 
 lige you " — here he sat upright, and his 
 expression of languor changed to one of 
 resolution. He passed his hand over his 
 whole face, as though feeling that he must 
 wipe away its look of distress — " yes, on 
 your account, in the belief that your connec- 
 tion with that house may be, by this means, 
 severed, or that light may be thrown upon 
 it, I do not shrink from the appeal." 
 
 It was hard to Eric that this consent 
 should be given for his sake, and not with 
 a view to serving the cause. He was on 
 the point of announcing his intention of be- 
 coming the man's son, when approaching 
 footsteps were heard. Clodwig rose hastily, 
 and, seizing Eric's hand, said, in a low but 
 decided voice, — 
 
 " Well, I yield. The man wishes a court 
 of honor : he shall have one." 
 
 Clodwig had uttered these words quickly 
 and precipitately, for at that moment Bella 
 entered. 
 
 She greeted Eric with Latin words ; and it 
 was with a strange confusion of sensations 
 that he perceived in her a sudden defiance, 
 utterly out of keeping with the present 
 state of things, and, above all, with Clod- 
 wig's dejected mood. 
 
4G4 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Pray tell me," she asked. " did you ever 
 pass through a phase in which you admired 
 men of force, like Ezzelin von Romano ? 
 There is, after all, something great in such 
 violent natures, especially when contrasted 
 with men of petty interests and weak dil- 
 ettanteism " — 
 
 Eric could not understand what this 
 meant. It did not occur to him that Bella, 
 screened by the presence of a stranger, was 
 discharging arrows, none of which missed 
 their mark. 
 
 Clodwig gently closed his eyes, nodded, 
 and then opened them again. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she continued, more calmly, 
 " I am glad that I remember a question 
 which I wished to put to you. Tell me, 
 what would Cicero or Socrates have said, on 
 reading Lord Byron's ' Cain ' ? " 
 
 Eric looked at her with a puzzled air. 
 This question was so extravagantly odd, 
 that he did not know whether it was in- 
 tended as a sneer, or whether she was 
 insane. Bella, however, went on : — 
 
 " Has Roland ever yet read Byron's 
 1 Cain ' ? " 
 
 " I believe not." 
 
 " Give him the book now. It must have 
 an effect upon him. He, too, is a son, who 
 has a right to revolt at his father's banish- 
 ment from Eden. It is wonderful, the cor- 
 respondence between the two stories, — is it 
 not ? Do you know that Ave are all, strictly 
 speaking, children of Cain ? Abel was 
 childless ; yes, the pious Abel had no chil- 
 dren : we are all descended from Cain. A 
 grand pedigree ! One more question, dear 
 Herr Doctor. Have you never got out of 
 the savants the form and color of the 
 mark branded on Cain's brew by God the 
 Father ? " 
 
 " I do not understand you," Eric an- 
 swered. 
 
 " Neither do I understand myself," laugh- 
 ed Bella. It was a dismal laugh. 
 
 She then continued : — 
 
 " I began to read Cicero, ' De Summo 
 Bono,' with the help of a translation, of 
 course ; but I did not get far, and took up 
 Byron's ' Cain.' instead : that is the finest 
 thing the modern world has produced." 
 
 Eric still knew not what to reply, and 
 only gazed into the faces of Bella and Clod- 
 wig. " What is going on here ? " he said 
 to himself. 
 
 Bella began again, — 
 
 " Were not the female slaves who served 
 the Roman ladies obliged to puff* out their 
 cheeks, when a noble matron wished to 
 strike them in the face ? A propos, how is 
 Fräulein Sonnenkamp ? " 
 
 " She has gone to the convent," replied 
 Eric with downcast eyes. 
 
 It oppressed him to be obliged to answer 
 Bella's questions with regard to Manna. 
 
 " That seems to me very sensible," was 
 the rejoinder. 
 
 " Such a cloister is a shelter where the 
 sensitive child will best find repose until the 
 storm is past. What will Roland now do ? 
 What are your intentions, and those of your 
 mother ?" 
 
 These questions were put in a manner so 
 superficial, so distant, and so conventional, 
 that Eric was able to reply with a certain 
 degree of cheerfulness, — 
 
 " In the interim, we have recourse to the 
 great deed which is so universal." 
 
 " The great deed ? " 
 
 " Yes : in the mean time, we are doing 
 nothing." 
 
 In the midst of this conversation, Eric's 
 thoughts were in the convent with Manna. 
 There she, too, was now confronting people 
 who had once been such near friends to her. 
 How did they now appear in their new 
 character of enemies and antagonists ? 
 Surelythey had not assumed this cold, in- 
 different tone. He felt as though he must 
 stretch out his hand protectingly over 
 Manna, who was now bearing crushing re- 
 proaches, and, perhaps, even allowing a 
 penance to be laid upon herself. He 
 grieved that he had let her travel alone 
 with Roland and Fräulein Perini. He felt 
 that he ought not to have left her. 
 
 Such was his absorbing thought; and so 
 he absently took leave, saying that he must 
 go on to Weidmann's. Again he rode 
 through the wood which he had traversed 
 on Clodwig's horse the first time that he 
 went to Villa Eden. How utterly different 
 was the Villa to-day ! And here at Wolfs- 
 garten, — here he felt that there was some 
 mystery which he could not unravel. How 
 extremely happy had Bella and Clodwig 
 then seemed to him ! and now, what were 
 they ? Bella's strange, wandering talk, 
 jumbling together Cicero and Byron's 
 ' Cain,' showed that she must have passed 
 hours in dragging herself restlessly through 
 all sorts of things. Then Clodwig seemed 
 oreTwhelmed by melancholy from which 
 even his universal kindness could only tem- 
 porarily rouse him. 
 
 Eric" felt that he must forget all this, 
 since he had in view an end which he must 
 pursue for others and himself, — more than 
 for himself, for Manna. Only he who is 
 personally free from care can devote him- 
 self fully and freely to the service of 
 others. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 465 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 ACQUIESCENCE AND RELUCTANCE. 
 
 It was already night when Eric reached 
 Mattenheim. The Weidmann family had 
 entered their winter residence, as they 
 called the beautiful, bright rooms on the 
 upper story of their house, with pictures on 
 the walls," and open fires burning on the 
 tasteful hearths. 
 
 Frau Weidmann was sitting with her 
 daughter-in-law behind the table on which 
 stood the lamp, while her son was reading 
 aloud. Herr Weidmann was in his study. 
 
 Eric begged leave to seek him there, and 
 found him among the alembics and retorts 
 of his laboratory. 
 
 " I cannot shake hands," cried he gayly ; 
 " but, first of all, turn your mind from the 
 weight which oppresses you. That will help 
 matters. You see you find me in a cheer- 
 ful mood. We are trying to profit by a new 
 discovery. We have found that a new sort 
 of printer's ink can be prepared from the 
 skins and grounds of grapes. The matter 
 promises well, and our friend Knopf is 
 probably already writing a poem on this 
 subject. He wishes, that, in future, all lyr- 
 ics, but especially drinking songs, should be 
 printed only with ink prepared in this man- 
 ner. Look, here is the new stuff boiling. 
 But you had better wait in the next room, 
 where you will find some very interesting 
 newspapers. Wait a little while, and I will 
 be with you." 
 
 Eric, going into the adjoining apartment, 
 found the table strewn with American news- 
 papers, containing accounts of violent elec- 
 tion struggles between the Republicans and 
 the Democrats. The latter name had been 
 assumed by those who wished to enforce 
 State rights so far as to be incompatible 
 with the existing Union ; their true and 
 chief object being the preservation of slavery. 
 
 On the other hand, the Republican party 
 was united in the name and spirit of Abra- 
 ham Lincoln. 
 
 " In these days in which we live," thought 
 Eric, " the great cause is being decided in 
 the Xew World. In what state of mind is 
 Sonnenkamp awaiting the result of this 
 struggle ? " He read on without knowing 
 what he read. 
 
 Weidmann came in, saying that he had 
 expected Eric, and asked how Sonnenkamp's 
 children had endured the publicity of this 
 affair. He declared his readiness to serve, 
 as soon as Eric had explained to him the 
 plan of the jury. He added, that he could 
 not as yet foresee any permanent result that 
 
 could come from it, but that at least a clear- 
 er insight into the matter would be obtained 
 by this means, and, perhaps, the power of 
 putting the children in the position due to 
 them. 
 
 Weidmann was the first person out of the 
 family, with the exception of the Major, to 
 whom Eric communicated his connection 
 with Manna. He was not in the least sur- 
 prised, having looked upon this relationship 
 as inevitable, from all that he had heard 
 of Manna, in connection with what he 
 knew of Eric. He even added, that it was 
 on Eric's account that he had instantly ac- 
 quiesced in the plan proposed, knowing how 
 nearly the restoration of the honor of the 
 house, in such measure as was possible, 
 must concern him, and feeling that it was 
 the duty of his friends to stand by him. 
 
 " Oh, I was so proud of my integrity ! " 
 lamented Eric ; " and now " — 
 
 " You may remain so," interrupted Weid- 
 mann ; " and I can put your mind at ease on 
 one point. It is certain that the greater 
 part of the wealth of this man at Villa Eden 
 was not gained through the slave-trade. 
 That I know from my nephew." 
 
 " Pray, assure our Roland of that, first of 
 all." 
 
 " I will. Send him to me as soon as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 He asked how it happened that Herr von 
 Pranken continued to consider himself as 
 the son of the house, clinging to this connec- 
 tion with inexplicable tenacity. 
 
 Eric could only say that he and Manna, 
 in order not to cause more confusion at this 
 juncture, had kept their affection a secret 
 with the greatest care. 
 
 Weidmann urged that it should be made 
 known before the trial ; and Eric gave him 
 his word that it should. 
 
 His friend then returned at once to the 
 preparations for the jury, saying, — 
 
 " One other thing will be hard to arrange. 
 I think that we ought to include the negro 
 Adams." 
 
 Eric doubted whether Sonnenkamp would 
 consent to this ; but Weidmann repeated 
 that the blacks had precisely the same right 
 to judge the whites, as the latter had to judge 
 them. Eric promised to propose this, but 
 begged Weidmann, meanwhile, not to make 
 his participation in the business dependent 
 on this. 
 
 While they were sitting cheerfully at the 
 table, came a new guest, the Doctor. He 
 had been attending a patient in the neigh- 
 borhood, and was in high spirits, having 
 just performed a successful operation. Soon 
 turning to Eric, he said, — 
 
466 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 BE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " There you have an example. Oh, if we 
 could only prescribe a sedative that would 
 quiet for weeks or months ! " 
 
 He told them about the man whom he had 
 just lei't, adding) — 
 
 " See how much the fine doings of nobility 
 and virtue signify. The man from whose 
 estate I came is an illegitimate Royal son, 
 and his children are already allied by mar- 
 riage with the clan of high society. So, in 
 twenty years, no one will ask whence came 
 the wealth of our Roland." 
 
 When he had heard of the jury, and how 
 his assistance was taken for granted, and as 
 a fixed fact, he cried, — 
 
 " Yes ! That is the way with the old ty- 
 rants ! They love a mock burial. But you 
 won't see me in the funeral-procession. Do 
 you really believe that he will submit to 
 your decree ? His only object is to com- 
 promise other men. He is deceiving you 
 all ; and you, dear Dournay, have interfered 
 enough on this man's behalf. I advise you 
 to leave matters as they are. You are try- 
 ing to help a negro, no, a negro-dealer, to 
 wash himself white." 
 
 The Doctor, as he proclaimed his opinion, 
 gave his jolly laugh, which no one could 
 hear without laughing too. 
 
 " The fellow would be quite to my taste," 
 he went on ; u he would have been a good, 
 healthy scoundrel of the old sort, only that 
 rascals nowadays, alas ! are all so reflective, 
 so self-conscious. They are not satisfied to 
 act as one of Nature's elementary forces, but 
 they are constantly making outrageous at- 
 tempts at logical self-justification. If this 
 Herr Sonnenkamp really wished to change 
 himself, it would be despicable cowardice." 
 
 " Cowardice ? " interrupted Weidmann. 
 " He who has not a good conscience can ea- 
 sily be overthrown, and has no persevering 
 fortitude. He can be bold, he can be fool- 
 hardy ; but temerity is not courage." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " interrupted the Doctor. 
 " Have I not already told you that I have 
 an aversion to all this sentimental fuss on 
 behalf of the negroes ? I have a natural 
 repugnance for negroes. I don't see why my 
 reason should brand such an innate physio- 
 logical antipathy as a prejudice. It shows 
 prejudice, moreover, to say that all prejudi- 
 ces are groundless. I could wish that we 
 had more of such inborn dislikes, and that we 
 did not permit so-called civilization to rob 
 us of those which we have. The slave-trade 
 is not a fine thing, it is true. If I had been a 
 prince. I should, after all, have ennobled the 
 man. I should have said, ' Good friend, take 
 a bath ; but then be merry, and the Devil 
 take orthodoxy ! ' The thing which vexes me 
 
 most is, that this Professor Curtius has 
 obliged the nobles by firing off his article 
 beforehand. Could he not have waited a 
 day longer ? Then Sonnenkamp would 
 have been one of the nobility, and they would 
 have been obliged to swallow it as they 
 could. Would not that have been much 
 better ? " 
 
 The Doctor seemed determined not to re- 
 gard the matter in a serious light. When 
 they were leaving, however, and he had in- 
 sisted on Eric's sitting beside him in the 
 carriage, and tying his horse on behind, he 
 said, — 
 
 " As for the rest of it, I acquiesce, and, 
 to tell you the truth, on account of your 
 faith. You believe that the past can be 
 atoned for by an effort of the will ; and do 
 you really believe this man will repent ? 
 W ell, your faith shall remove me, the moun- 
 tain of unbelief. We will see." 
 
 Eric told him that he had been at Wolfs- 
 garten, and was not a little astonished when 
 the Doctor said that the incongruity and 
 want of harmony between Clodwig and 
 Bella had reached a crisis. 
 
 " Bella," he said, " seeks a narcotic. She 
 studies Latin, and, while smaller natures 
 intoxicate themselves with brandy, she 
 strives to stun herSelf with Lord Byron's 
 poetry. I ought not to speak of Byron. I 
 was once too much inspired by him, and 
 now go to the other extreme. I consider 
 this sort of writing to be not wine, but — 
 But then, as I said, I am a heretic, and, 
 indeed, a renegade heretic." 
 
 Seeing that Eric shrank back, he add- 
 ed, — 
 
 " You are horrified by my heresy ; but 
 then, it is only my individual opinion." 
 
 The Doctor was going on to abuse Bella 
 again in his old way. Eric said involunta- 
 rily, how ste-ange it seemed to him that the 
 Doctor should be so imbittered against h«r, 
 for whom he had once shown a preference. 
 
 " Ah, bravo ! " cried the Doctor in a loud 
 voice. " My respects ! I admire that 
 woman. So, then, she told you that I had 
 once paid her my addresses ? Excellent ! 
 A stroke of genius ! I admire the adroit- 
 ness with which she would fain have de- 
 prived my opinion of all weight in your 
 eyes. What bunglers we men are ! Shall 
 I make you a solemn protestation ? No. 
 Do you believe me capable of the villany 
 of speaking so of a woman whom I had 
 loved, even for a minute, or liked even for a 
 second? But I thank you. I am enriched 
 by a goodly addition to my knowledge of 
 humanity. I thank you. My conscience is 
 soothed, for I have not judged this woman 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 467 
 
 too harshly. Recall this day's ride to my 
 mind at some future time. I tell you, that 
 woman will yet earn some notoriety. How 
 — what ? That I cannot tell you ; but 
 such a wealth of inventive power will yet 
 bring something to pass." 
 
 All this jarred on Eric's mood. Why 
 must it come at such a time ? Was there 
 not a sufficient weight on his spirits ? He 
 scarcely heard the Doctor, as he went on to 
 relate how hard a struggle Pranken had 
 had with. his noble connections, and to keep 
 his place at court, owing to his refusal to 
 renounce Sonnenkamp. 
 
 When they had reached the valley, Eric 
 took leave of the Doctor, unfastened his 
 horse, and rode back to the Villa. 
 
 In Sonnenkamp's room there was still a 
 light. He sent for Eric, who informed him 
 that all had agreed to the plan. He said 
 not a word about Adams being proposed as 
 a juryman. 
 
 " I thank you, I thank you heartily," said 
 Sonnenkamp, who was seated in his arm- 
 chair. His voice sounded like an old 
 man's. ' ; One thing more," he said, sitting 
 upright. " Does the Countess Bella know 
 of this ? " 
 
 " I cannot say ; but I do not doubt that 
 the Count will inform her of it. 
 " Did she say nothing about me ? " 
 " No." 
 
 " Nothing at all ? Did she speak of no 
 member of this household ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes. Of the children." 
 
 " Indeed! Of the children? Well, I 
 thank you. Pleasant dreams." 
 
 Eric went to his chamber. He stood 
 long at the window, gazing out upon the 
 landscape. 
 
 The reign of Nature continues through 
 all human revolutions ; and happy is he, 
 who, in contemplation of this, can forget 
 himself. 
 
 It was a dark night. A black, wide- 
 spreading cloud hung over the mountains. 
 Then a bright streak of light appeared on 
 the edge of the ridge, and stood between 
 the mountains and the cloud, which grew 
 lighter. The moon rose, the black cloud 
 ingulfed it, and now the light shone out on 
 both sides, above and below ; but the dark 
 mass was darker than before, while detached 
 masses of a leaden color floated on the right 
 and left. 
 
 Eric closed his eyes, and lost himself in 
 thought. When he looked up again, the* 
 moon was standing above the dark cloud, 
 and the landscape was bathed in its light, 
 which quivered on the stream. And again, 
 after a time, the moon was hidden by an- 
 
 other cloud. Eric looked out long and fix- 
 edly, till the cloud had vanished. The 
 whole sky was as clear and bright as steel 
 undimmed by a breath ; and peacefully 
 shone the mild sphere of light, high in 
 heaven. 
 
 Nature, fixed on firm foundations, works 
 on according to eternal laws. Must it not 
 be so too with human life ? 
 
 Eric thought of Manna, and with the 
 thought a solt light was spread over every 
 thing, like the radiance now diffused from 
 on high. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE BROKEN-OFF TWIG. 
 
 While Sonnenkamp was carrying on the 
 arrangements for the trial by jury, Pranken 
 returned looking ill ; and, on Sonnenkamp's 
 urging him to tell him what was the matter, 
 he drew forth the letters from his pocket. 
 
 He first laid before him the one in which 
 he had been notified by the marshal of the 
 Prince's household, that it was impossible 
 for him, as chamberlain to his Highness, to 
 retain any connection with a man who had 
 not only forfeited his honor, but had be- 
 havöd so wrongly towards the Prince, that 
 the question was still being agitated wheth- 
 er he should not be openly arraigned on a 
 charge of high treason. * 
 
 Sonnenkamp trembled, but laughed at 
 the same time, in a way peculiar to himself. 
 Let me see the letter again," said he. 
 
 He read it ; then, giving it back in silence, 
 asked what the other letter contained. 
 
 Pranken said it was yet more decided; 
 and handed him the document of the mili- 
 tary court of honor, calling upon him to 
 give up all intercourse with Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " And what do you intend to do ? " asked 
 Sonnenkamp. " I release you." 
 
 ; ' I shall stand by you," replied Pranken. 
 
 Sonnenkamp embraced him. There was 
 a pause, a strange silence between these 
 two men. 
 
 " I defy them all," exclaimed Pranken ; 
 " but here is another letter. It is for you," 
 giving him the letter of the Cabinetsrath. 
 
 Sonnenkamp read it. 
 
 The document was drawn up in very 
 polite terms, and contained the request 
 that he would travel for a time, until an 
 opportunity should offer for putting down 
 the party which was now urging his indict- 
 ment before a court on a charge of treason. 
 
 " Do you know the purport of this let- 
 ter ? " he asked. 
 
468 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " Certainly. The Herr Cabinetsrath 
 chose to give it to me unsealed." 
 
 " And what do you advise ? " 
 
 " I second his request." 
 
 A convulsive twitching passed over Son- 
 nenkamp's face. 
 
 " Prudent, very prudent," ■ he said to 
 himself. " You wish to banish me, and 
 retain my estate." 
 
 A horror began to creep over him as he 
 saw a vision of himself seated in prison ; 
 but he drove it off. 
 
 " So you are of the same opinion ? " 
 
 " Yes. But, before you leave for any 
 length of time, allow me to point out a 
 means by which you may earn new honors 
 for us both." 
 
 " Is there such a means ? " 
 
 " Yes. I have already told you that 
 there is another faction, quiet but powerful, 
 which is ours, and we, or, rather, you, have 
 the means of binding it to you yet more 
 closely." 
 
 And now Pranken told how he had 
 promised to be present, almost immediately, 
 at a council held by the nobles of this ec- 
 clesiastical province (which extended be- 
 yond the limits of the principality), in the 
 archiepiseopal palace. The proceedings of 
 this convocation were to be strictly confi- 
 dential. Its object was to confer on the 
 ways and means of rendering the Pope 
 military assistance. 
 
 " You do not intend entering the papal 
 army ? " asked Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " I would, if I were not bound by the ties 
 of duty, of honor, of love, to remain here 
 at my post." 
 
 " That is fine, very fine. Excuse my in- 
 terruption. And why do you impart this to 
 me ? I am not of the nobility, and have 
 no place in this council." 
 
 " You belong to them, and will be pres- 
 ent." 
 
 " I belong to them ? I shall be present ? " 
 
 " I will be brief. You will give a sum 
 sufficient for the formation of a regiment, 
 and I can assure you, I have security for 
 your being not only unmolested, but 
 crowned with honors." 
 
 " And, having given the money, can I re- 
 main here in honor?" Sonnenkamp said 
 with a smile. 
 
 " It would be better, if you were absent 
 for a time." 
 
 A look of exultation passed over the face 
 of the questioner. This was better still, he 
 thought. They wished to deprive him at 
 once of a portion of his property, and to get j 
 rid of him, into the bargain. He looked at I 
 
 Pranken with an expression of great friend- 
 liness, and said, — 
 
 " Excellent ! Does the priest of this 
 parish know of this ? " 
 
 " No. I have won over the Dean of the 
 cathedral, though ? " 
 
 " Will you allow me to send for the 
 Priest ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I will bring him myself." 
 
 " No ! Remain here." 
 
 He gave through the speaking-tube an 
 order that the Priest should be requested to 
 come to him ; then, turning again to Prank- 
 en, said, — 
 
 " And so you second the request ? Most 
 excellent ! They sell blacks, buying whites 
 instead, and the whites become snow-white. 
 They even become saints." 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " Very likely. I am only pleased at the 
 excellent arrangement of this world. My 
 young friend, I believe that the thing called 
 virtue is taught by means of a system in 
 the Universities : they have a system of 
 morality. We, my young friend, will work 
 out a system of criminality. We will es- 
 tablish a chair in the University. Thou- 
 sands of auditors will come flocking around 
 us, whom we alone can instruct in the Truth, 
 the real Truth. The world is magnificent ! 
 It must nominate me for the professorship 
 of worldly wisdom, which is a science dif- 
 fering widely from the idea hitherto enter- 
 tained of it. It is time that this moral 
 rouge should be rubbed off*. I know, thus 
 far, but one human being whom I shall ad- 
 mit as my colleague into this faculty, and 
 that one, alas ! is a woman ; but we must 
 overcome this prejudice also. Magnifi- 
 cent ! " 
 
 " You have not yet told me whether you 
 accede to the plan " — 
 
 " Have I not ? My young friend, you 
 cannot yet become a professor. You are 
 still a school-boy, learning the elements, the 
 rudiments. I would fain found a new 
 Rome, and, as once the Rome of Antiquity 
 was peopled with a community of mere 
 vagabonds, so I would fill my city from the 
 houses of correction. No nation can equal 
 their inhabitants. They are the really vig- 
 orous men." 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " You are right," said Sonnenkamp at 
 last in a gentle tone. " We will be very 
 upright and discreet, very moral and deli- 
 cate. My young friend, I have something 
 very different in view. The mouse-trap of 
 your cathedral dean is too clumsy for me. 
 I shall not snap at this bait cooked in lard." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 469 
 
 Pranken was full of wrath. Sonnen- 
 kamp's manner of treating him like a boy- 
 still in his school-jacket roused his indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 He stood up very straight, and looked 
 down at himself from head to foot, to see 
 whether he were indeed a little boy. At 
 last he said, throwing back his head, — 
 
 " Respected father, I beg you to desist 
 from this pleasantry." 
 
 " Pleasantry ? " ' 
 
 "Yes. I have united myself to you — 
 you cannot deny it — with a loyalty that — 
 I have wished to make you my equal in — 
 no, I did not mean to say that at such a 
 time — only I must beseech you not to 
 withhold your concurrence from this pro- 
 ject. We have obligations. We have 
 great obligations ; and I demand that you 
 should " — 
 
 " Why do you hesitate ? Obey ! Pray 
 say the word. Yes, my noble young friend, 
 I will obey you. It is fine, very fine. What 
 uniform have you chosen? Shall we raise a 
 regiment of cavalry or of infantry ? Of 
 course, we will make Roland an officer at 
 once. Better say cavalry : he sits well 
 on horseback. Look here, revered fanatic, 
 I, too, have my fancy. We will ride over 
 the Campagna. Ha! That is jolly ! And 
 we will have the best arms of the newest 
 sort. I understand a little of that sort 
 of thing. I have shipped many to Amer- 
 ica, — more than any of you know. What 
 do you think of my raising the whole regi- 
 ment in America ? " 
 • " That would be so much the better." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Sonnenkamp. 
 " A morning dream ! They are said to be 
 the sweetest. Haven't you slept almost 
 enough ? Haven't you dreamed out your 
 dream ? " 
 
 Pranken felt as though chains were being 
 wound around and around him. His sen- 
 sations were those of a man confined in a 
 lion's cave. He must be gentle, yielding, 
 conciliatory. He dares not rouse the lion. 
 He must allow the brute to play with him, 
 expecting every instant to be torn to pieces 
 by his claws. Oh for some means of 
 escape ! 
 
 Pranken put his hand to his head. What 
 manner of man was this? What did he 
 -want of him ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp said, with his hand on the 
 young man's shoulder, — 
 
 "I have nothing against your piety or 
 your pious acts. It is to me a matter of 
 indifference ; but, my young friend, none of 
 my money shall be thrown to those cowled 
 fellows. Fine economy, that! Manna 
 
 I builds a convent ; you raise a regiment. 
 And is it for this that I have undergone so 
 much ? No, you were only joking ; were 
 you not? And now let us say no more 
 about it. Be shrewd, and deceive those who 
 think themselves the most so. You will 
 find that the daintiest morsel. Ah ! There 
 is Manna coming into the court ! We will 
 call her here instantly. 
 
 He called through the speaking-tube that 
 Manna was to come to him at once. 
 
 Before Pranken had time to say any thing, 
 the door was opened without a knock, and 
 Manna entered. 
 
 " You sent for me, father ? " 
 
 " Yes. How did you get on at the con- 
 vent ? " 
 
 " I have taken leave of it forever." 
 
 " Thank you, my child, thank you. You 
 do me good, and you know Iioav much I 
 need it now. So now let me arrange every 
 thing on the spot. You look so fresh, so 
 animated ! I have never seen you so much 
 so. Herr von Pranken," turning to him, 
 " you see how Manna has freed herself, and 
 I have your promise to give up the matter 
 of which we have been speaking; have I 
 not ? " 
 
 Pranken made no answer. 
 
 " I did not know that you were here, Herr 
 von Pranken," began Manna," but now, 
 now it is best that it is so." 
 
 " Certainly," said Sonnenkamp decided- 
 ly. " You can have nöthing to say to me 
 which our faithful friend may not hear. Sit 
 down." 
 
 He took, according to his wont, a little 
 peg of wood, and began to whittle. 
 
 Manna did not sit down : with her hand 
 on the back of a chair, she said, — 
 
 " Herr von Pranken, I wish to prove to 
 you my gratitude for your faithful" — 
 
 " That you will, that you can," inter- 
 rupted her father, looking up from his peg. 
 " It is well. I need joy, I need rest, I need 
 serenity. You are right. A cordial would 
 now be doubly refreshing. Give our friend 
 your hand now." 
 
 " I give it in farewell." 
 
 " In farewell ? " cried Sonnenkamp, mak- 
 ing a deep cut in the peg. He went up to 
 Manna, and caught her hand. 
 
 " Pray, father," she interrupted. " Herr 
 von Pranken, you are a nobleman whom I 
 honor and esteem. You have proved your- 
 self loyal to my father : as his child, I shall 
 value you, and remember you with grati- 
 tude ; but " — 
 
 " But what ? " demanded Sonnenkamp. 
 
 " I owe it to you to speak the truth. I 
 cannot become your wife. I love Herr 
 
470 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Dournay, and he loves me. We are one ; 
 and no power of earth or heaven can part ns." 
 
 " You and the teacher, that Huguenot, that 
 word-huckster, that hypocrite V I will stran- 
 gle him with my own hands, the thief" — 
 
 " Father," returned Manna, drawing her- 
 self up to her full height, while the heroic 
 courage which shone from her eyes made her 
 appear taller and stronger than she was in 
 realit y, — " father, Herr Dournay is a teach- 
 er and a Huguenot. It is only your anger 
 that speaks the rest." 
 
 M My anger shall speak no more. You 
 do not know me yet. I stake my life on 
 this " — 
 
 " That you wdll not do, father. We chil- 
 dren have enough to bear already." 
 
 A cry, horrible as that of some monster, 
 burst from Sonnenkamp's breast. 
 
 Turning to Pranken, he cried, — 
 
 " Leave us ! Herr von Pranken. Leave 
 me alone with her ! " 
 
 ** No," was the reply. " I will not leave 
 you alone with your daughter. I have loved 
 her. I have a right to protect her." 
 
 Sonnenkamp supported himself by grasp- 
 ing the table. A vertigo seemed to seize 
 him, and he cried, — 
 
 " Do you hear, Manna ? Do you hear ? 
 And will you reject such a nobleman ? 
 Revoke your decision, my child ; I will im- 
 plore you on my knees. See, how pervert- 
 ed your mind is ! I have enough to bear 
 already. Do not heap this upon me, too. 
 Look at this man ! can you refuse such a 
 one ? Manna, you are a sensible, good 
 child. You have only been playing with 
 us ; you have only wished to test us. See, 
 you are smiling. I thank you, I thank you 
 for this trial. By means of it, you have 
 obtained a fresh proof of his nobleness. 
 Manna, there he stands. Take him in 
 your arms. I will gladly die ; I will do 
 whatever the world demands : only fulfil 
 this one request." 
 
 " I cannot, father, I cannot." 
 
 " You can, and you will." 
 
 " Believe me, lather " — 
 
 " Believe you ? — you, who but lately 
 declared with such firmness, ' I will become 
 a nun ! ' The infirm of purpose cannot be 
 trusted." 
 
 " Father, it pains me unspeakably to 
 be obliged to wound you and Herr von 
 Pranken thus." 
 
 " Well — it is well : I must bear this too. 
 You can cut my heart out ; for, alas ! I have 
 a heart. Fie I And is it for this that I 
 have defied the world, old and new ? is it 
 for this that I am thrust out of both, — to call 
 a hypocritical rascal my son ? Oh these 
 
 philosophers ! these idealists ! these hu- 
 manitarian fanatics ! He smuggles himself 
 into my house as a tutor, in order to marry 
 millions. Oh, most practical philosophers, 
 and rascally liars and hypocrites, into the 
 bargain 1 I will not bear it ! " 
 
 He bent his fingers like claws, and moved 
 his hands rapidly, crying, — 
 
 " Give me something to tear in pieces, or 
 I do not know what I shall do. You " — 
 
 Pranken laid his hand on his shoulder. 
 The three stood facing each other in silence. 
 All breathed hard, but Pranken the hardest. 
 
 Manna endured her father's gaze calmly ; 
 but she had no foreboding of its real mean- 
 ing. He again called through the speaking- 
 tube, — 
 
 " Let Herr Dournay come here." 
 Then he went on. 
 
 " Manna, I do not force you ; but I desire 
 you to renounce this teacher. Yet more. 
 Did you not tell me that you had sent word 
 to the priest to come hither ? " 
 
 " Certainly : you ordered that he should 
 be summoned." 
 
 " I hear him in the ante-room. Admit 
 him." 
 
 The Priest entered, and Sonnenkamp 
 addressed him thus : — 
 
 " Sir priest, I announce to you, before 
 these witnesses, my resolution to give my 
 Villa for the foundation of a convent, pro- 
 vided my daughter Manna, here, takes the 
 veil, as she has always wished to do." 
 
 Manna could not comprehend this. She ' 
 could not suspect the cruel game which her 
 father was playing with her, with Pranken, 
 with Eric, with the Villa, with every thing. 
 She knew not how to help herself, when, 
 just as the Priest, turning toward her, offered 
 his hand, Eric entered. He saw at once 
 what had happened. 
 
 " Do you know who I am ? " were the 
 words with which Sonnenkamp turned upon 
 him. 
 
 Eric bowed. 
 
 " And do you know who this man here is, 
 and this girl ? And when you look into that 
 mirror, do you know whose image you 
 
 see ? * 
 
 Then, pointing to the wall where the 
 hunting-whip hung, he cried, — 
 
 " And do you know what that is yon- 
 der ? The back of many a slave " — He 
 broke off suddenly. 
 
 Eric looked proudly around him, then 
 said in a calm voice, — 
 
 " To be whipped by men of a certain sort 
 is no dishonor." 
 
 Sonnenkamp gave a hollow groan, and 
 Eric went on : — 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 471 
 
 "I beseech thee, Manna, to leave the 
 room." 
 
 a Thee ! — Manna ! — " yelled Sonnen- 
 kamp, and would have sprung upon him, 
 had not Pranken caught his arm, saying, — 
 
 u Herr Sonnenkamp, if any one here is 
 to demand satisfaction from Herr Dournay, 
 I have the first right." 
 
 " Very good ! " cried Sonnenkamp, throw- 
 ing himself into a chair. "Yours is the 
 revenge, yours the honor, yours the life, and 
 yours every thing else. Speak yourself : 
 I've nothing more to say." 
 
 " Herr Dournay," began Pranken, " I 
 brought you into this family, and I told you 
 in so many words what relation I held to 
 the daughter. Up to this time, I have had 
 a degree of respect for you ; and I regret to 
 be compelled to withdraw it." 
 
 Eric jumped up. 
 
 " I shall not challenge you to fight," 
 Pranken continued. " You have put on a 
 coat of mail that makes you invulnerable to 
 me. Your life rests -under Fräulein Man- 
 na's protection, and so your life is invio- 
 lable, as far as I am concerned. This is my 
 last word to you so long as my tongue can 
 speak. Herr Sonnenkamp, I have one re- 
 quest only to make of you. Give me your 
 hand, promise to grant it to me." 
 
 " I promise you every thing but the regi- 
 ment, every thing else but that." 
 
 " Very well : I have your word that you 
 will not harm this man." 
 
 He felt about with trembling hands, and 
 then taking out of his pocket a little book, 
 he handed it to Manna. His voice was 
 filled with emotion, as he said, — 
 
 " Fräulein Manna, you once gave this to 
 me : the twig is still lying in it, and it is 
 bare. Take it again. As this twig, broken 
 ofF from the tree, can never grow to it 
 again : so am I detached from you and from 
 every one here." 
 
 He looked Manna full in the face, and 
 then closed by saying, — 
 
 u Xow we are parted forever." 
 
 He drew on his gloves quietly, buttoned 
 them, took up his hat, bowed, and left the 
 room. 
 
 Manna looked after him with a humble 
 glance, and then seized Eric's hand. The 
 two stood before Sonnenkamp, who had 
 covered his face with his hand, and who 
 now said, — 
 
 " Are you waiting for my blessing ? To 
 be horse-whipped by a man like me is no 
 disgrace; and such a män as I am can give 
 no blessing. Go, go ! or have I no longer 
 any right to command, that you remain so 
 motionless ? " 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp," Eric began, " I 
 might say, and it would be to some extent 
 true, that I intended those severe words for 
 Heir von Pranken, and not for you ; but, 
 as they were also applicable to you, I ask 
 your pardon. I was not master of myself, 
 and it was wrong in me to provoke and 
 grieve you so sorely; not merely because 
 you are Manna's father, but because you 
 are a man who has had to endure so much. 
 It was sinful in me " — 
 
 " Very well, very well ; I know all about 
 sermonizing ; it's sufficient. And has not 
 your whole life been a lie ? Have you not 
 been a thief ? Did I not ask you if you 
 had any such views when I was con- 
 ducting you over the house? And could 
 you so long play the hypocrite and retail 
 your fine speeches ? Curse upon all faith 
 in mankind ! I had faith in you, I believed 
 you incapable of a breach of trust ; and 
 you've been a hypocrite from that first hour 
 I went with you over the house until the 
 present moment. As to the future — I've 
 torn away the mask." 
 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp," replied Eric, " I 
 have wrestled long and desperately with 
 myself, before yielding to this love ; but it 
 is stronger than I am, stronger than every- 
 thing besides. That I am not seeking for 
 your wealth, I prove by declaring to you 
 that I shall take none of your possessions. 
 I can add no farther assurance ; for if you 
 do not believe my simple word, how are 
 you to believe an oath ? " 
 
 " Indeed ? Then you expect still to be 
 believed ? Yes, fine, noble, good, magnani- 
 mous man, I possess a great deal, but not 
 what you ask, — faith in you. I had this 
 faith once, it was my last illusion. I don't 
 swear it ; but I know that it's my lasl illu- 
 sion." 
 
 " I entreat Roland's father and Manna's 
 father " — Eric's voice trembled, — "I en- 
 treat him, as a child, to be just towards me. 
 You will yot learn that I spoke the truth at 
 that time, and speak it now." 
 
 " Truth ? Whew , truth ! Leave me, I 
 wish to be alone : I must be alone." 
 
 Eric and Manna left the room, holding 
 each other by the hand. They waited out- 
 side for a long time. Joseph, who had been 
 summoned, now entered Sonnenkamp's room. 
 "When he came out, he told Manna that 
 Herr Sonnenkamp had sent to the city for 
 a notary. 
 
 Eric and Manna went into the garden. 
 And this is the power of love : in the 
 midst of the most direful pain and suffering r 
 they were inwardly cheerful as if all misery 
 had been removed far away from them." 
 
472 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " You must take it from me," said Man- 
 na, after they had walked together for a 
 long time in silence. " I don't know what 
 it signifies ; but it will not leave me. At 
 that time; when the Prince visited us, his 
 kind message to you affected me as if he 
 had bestowed a benefit upon myself. Do 
 you remember ? I delivered the message to 
 you. At that time he said you were to re- 
 member that you had 1been the companion 
 of his boyhood, and that he would like to 
 prove to you that he was not forgetful of 
 the fact. Now, don't you believe that you 
 could do something for us ? I don't know 
 what; but I think — well, I don't know 
 what I do think." 
 
 " It's the same with me," replied Eric. I 
 remember it as if it were the present mo- 
 ment ; but I have no idea how to begin to 
 avail myself of this gracious favor. O 
 Manna ! that was the first time it broke 
 upon me how you felt towards me." 
 
 And the lovers lost all idea of their anx- 
 ieties in recalling the past, how they wanted 
 to avoid each other, and could not. All 
 present sorrow vanished away. 
 
 On Manna's face there was a light as of 
 an inextinguishable gleam of sunshine: her 
 large dark eyes glowed, for a free and strong 
 soul shone through them. 
 
 " What are you smiling at now ? " she 
 suddenly asked Eric. 
 
 " Because an image has occurred to me." 
 
 " An image ? " 
 
 " Yes. I've heard that a precious stone 
 is distinguished from an imitation of one, by 
 the fact that the dimness of lustre caused 
 by breathing upon it immediately disap- 
 pears. You, my Manna, you, are such a 
 genuine pearl." 
 
 Whilst the lovers were promenading in 
 the garden, Sonnenkamp sat alone, almost 
 congratulating himself that he had some- 
 thing new to trouble him ; and in the midst 
 of his vexation there was a degree of pride, 
 of pleasure, when he thought how coura- 
 geously his -child stood up there before him. 
 She was his daughter, his proud, inflexible 
 child. And his thoughts went further : 
 Your child forsakes you, follows her own 
 inclination, and your duty is done : your 
 duty was to the daughter, for the son will 
 build up an independent life. Frau Ceres 
 — poh ! — let them supply her with dresses 
 and ornaments, and lull her to sleep with a 
 pretty story. He went into the garden, into 
 the green-house, where the black mould was 
 lying in a heap. He put on his gray sack, 
 grubbed in the dirt, smelt the fresh earth ; 
 but to-day there seemed to be no odor to 
 it. He rent the garment in pieces as he took 
 it off. 
 
 " Away forever ! " he exclaimed. " Child- 
 ish folly ! It's all over ! " He stood for a 
 while before the spot where Eric had taken 
 breakfast on the first morning. So this was 
 the man, and he to be sole master here for 
 the future ? He to possess all this, — a 
 schoolmaster ? 
 
 The Cooper came along the road. Son- 
 nenkanip called out to him, and commended 
 his bringing up the fire-engine, adding, with 
 a zest, that the settlers in the far West found 
 this their best weapon against the savages, 
 spurting hot water upon them ; and it was 
 still more effective to put in a trifle of sul- 
 phuric acid, and blind every one hit in the 
 face. The cooper stared, with eyes and mouth 
 wide open, at the man who could say these 
 horrible things in such a free and easy way. 
 
 Sonnenkamp left him standing there, and, 
 going into the orchard, helped very care- 
 fully and tenderly to gather the fruit. He 
 thought of the days when this fruit was 
 growing, of the spring when Roland was 
 convalescent, of the visit of the Prince, the 
 journey to the springs, the days of sunshine 
 until now, the dewy nights ; and he 
 thought silently, when will there be another 
 crop of fruit ? how will it be with you then ? 
 where ? perhaps under ground ; then you 
 cannot turn over the black mould : then his 
 head swam. 
 
 It is a shame that we must die, and a 
 double shame to know that Ave must. 
 
 He stared fixedly as if he were bewildered, 
 for it came over him that on this very spot 
 he had said something like this to Eric, the 
 first morning he had come there. Has this 
 place a peculiar power to awaken thoughts 
 of death ? Are you standing over the spot 
 of earth which shall be your grave ? 
 
 He was called away ; for the notary with 
 his two assistants had arrived just at the 
 dinner hour. He sat down with him at the 
 table, and appeared in as good spirits as if 
 nothing had happened. The notary occu- 
 pied Pranken's usual seat. After dinner, 
 he transacted business with the notary, be- 
 ing long and busily engaged in writing. 
 The two assistants signed as witnesses: so 
 that nobody except those under oath knew 
 any thing of the contents of the will. 
 
 .After this was done, a letter came from 
 Bella. She wrote to Sonnenkamp that she 
 and Clodwig would come to the jury-trial, 
 and he must bring it about that she should 
 be among the twelve. Sonnenkamp smiled, 
 for he had almost forgotten about it : it was 
 all very well. Erfc requestd Roland and 
 Manna to accompany the Mother, who 
 wanted to make a visit at Mattenheim. 
 | They consented, and so the house was now 
 l perfectly still, almost entirely deserted. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 473 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 PRELIMINARIES. 
 
 The days passed away quiet and dull. 
 Sonnenkamp sent off many letters, and 
 read the newspapers, without sending them 
 to Frau Ceres, as was his former custom. 
 
 The men came who had declared them- 
 selves ready to constitute the jury. 
 
 Sonnenkamp sent word to them that he 
 would see no one until the time came for 
 appearing before the tribunal. But an 
 exception was made in regard to one person. 
 Lootz was made the confidential agent, and 
 Bella came to Sonnenkamp's room, through 
 the climbing mistaria and the seed-room. 
 
 " Just a few words," Sonnenkamp said. 
 " You could not form one of the jury ; but 
 I assure you, because such a being lives 
 with me on the earth, I will live, and will 
 yet show what constitutes a man. Here, in 
 this room, will I speak." 
 
 He escorted her back through the seed- 
 room : she knew that the door would be 
 left open. 
 
 Bella went restlessly about the Villa, and 
 she saw Lina who had come with her father, 
 and who wanted to keep Manna company 
 at this terrible time ; but Lina was at a loss 
 what to do with herself, when she found how 
 the family was scattered. 
 
 She entreated Bella to go with her to 
 Aunt Claudine, who was the only one left 
 at home. 
 
 Bella said that she would come by and 
 
 Lina went to Aunt Claudine, and afforded 
 her some real consolation, and even pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 " Oh," asked Lina, " are Africans and 
 negroes the same thing ? " 
 " Most certainly." 
 
 " Well, I can't tell you how much I dis- 
 like Africans and negroes. I've nothing to 
 say against their being free, why shouldn't 
 they be ? But they might have become so 
 before this or afterwards : why, just at this 
 very time ? Why must they deprive me of 
 my beautiful season of betrothal ? No- 
 body is disposed to be merry, nobody talks 
 of any thing else, by reason of these ne- 
 groes. It's the fashion even to wear chains 
 now, called Chdines d'csclaves, — Oh, I 
 wanted to ask you something — what was 
 if — yes, I know now. Just tell me what 
 they're going to do when the negroes get 
 to be good people just like everybody else, 
 what they're going to do then with the 
 Devil ? " 
 
 " What has the Devil to do with it ? " 
 
 ■ " Why, how are they going to paint the 
 Devil, if he's not to be black any longer ? " 
 
 Aunt Claudine had to indulge in a most 
 hearty laugh, and she was very much re- 
 joiced to be reminded that, in the midst of 
 this montonously sombre life, there was some 
 liveliness still left in the world. 
 
 She was ready to go with Lina to the 
 Castle, but just as they were leaving the 
 house, Bella came. She begged that Aunt 
 Claudine and Lina would not put off their 
 excursion on her account, and shut herself 
 up in the library, while the Aunt and Lina 
 proceeded to the castle. They remained 
 there until the afternoon, and often looked 
 down to the Villa where " the men were all 
 engaged in such a queer business," as Lina 
 expressed herself. 
 
 Bella did not stay long in the library, but 
 quickly returned to the villa, and noiselssly 
 went up the steps overgrown with mistaria. 
 
 Sonnenkamp went to his wife, thinking 
 that he must inform her of what was now 
 going on. She tauntingly reminded him of 
 his promise to return to America ; she did 
 not want the decision to be in the hands of 
 strangers. 
 
 Sonnenkamp's practice was to let Frau 
 Ceres speak just as long and as much as 
 she pleased ; for it was a matter of perfect 
 indifference to him what she said. 
 
 When he had got through with this, he 
 returned to his room, and sent word to 
 those who arrived, that he would extend a 
 welcome to them when he appeared before 
 the tribunal. 
 
 Weidmann came first with the Prince 
 Valerian and Knopf, then Clodwig with the 
 Banker, and the Doctor with the Justice. 
 Professor Einsiedel stopped a while at the 
 dog-house, and talked very earnestly with 
 the field-guard, and was highly delighted at 
 the sound views of the man in dog-training. 
 Once he tapped upon his forehead with the 
 fore and middle fingers, wishing to impress 
 upon his memory one observation of Claus, 
 which explained to him a passage in the 
 eighth book of Pliny, treating of land-ani- 
 mals. 
 
 The Major came in full uniform, wearing 
 all his decorations ; and when he saw that 
 Clodwig had come in plain citizen's clothes, 
 without a single decoration, he said to him- 
 self in vexation, — 
 
 " She was right here, too ; but I thought 
 as it was a tribunal of honor — well, no 
 matter ; it's no harm, anyhow." 
 
 Eric had made all the requisite arrange- 
 ments in the music-saloon ; but. by Sonnen- 
 kamp's order, the chairs, the side-board set 
 out with eatables and drinkables, and every 
 
474 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 thing else needful, were removed to Sonnen- 
 kamp's room. He placed his chair with a 
 table before it near the door leading into 
 the seed-room, to which he then withdrew. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE NEW CAIN. 
 
 After the men had assembled, Eric 
 knocked at the door, according to a pre-con- 
 certed arrangement ; and, as it opened, Son- 
 nenkamp came forward. A bluish pallor 
 rested on his countenance, as he stepped up 
 to the little table where two sticks for whit- 
 tling and a pocket-knife were placed. Rest- 
 ing one hand upon the table, he began, — 
 
 " Gentlemen of honor and worth ! " — here 
 pausing a moment, he continued, " I use 
 the words worth and honor, because they 
 are not always, and, in fact, are very sel- 
 dom, united together, — you fulfil a human 
 duty in coming here at my call, and bestow- 
 ing upon me a portion of your life, these 
 hours, your feelings, and your thoughts. J 
 acknowledge this favor. On the Western 
 prairies, in the lonely log-house, in order to 
 form an opinion of a man from whom wrong 
 has been suffered, and in order to pronounce 
 a verdict thereupon, and to execute it, we 
 call in the neighbors living on the solitary 
 farms for miles around ; and I have done 
 this now, and you have come here in obedi- 
 ence to the call. You are to pass a judg- 
 ment, you are to decide upon what penalty 
 shall be inflicted in reference to acts that 
 cannot be weighed in the balances of legal 
 statutes. I shall lay open to you, without 
 reserve, my past life. I can do this the 
 more easily, as you know already the worst 
 in my case. You are to see how I have 
 grown up from childhood, and then to de- 
 cide and to judge. I have never felt pity 
 myself, and I ask no pity from you : I ask 
 for justice." 
 
 Sonnenkamp had begun in a depressed 
 tone, and with downcast eyes ; but he soon 
 grew more animated, his countenance be- 
 came more intent, and his eye lighted up. 
 
 " I make the declaration, therefore, that 
 I accept your finding, and submit myself 
 to whatever expiation you may determine 
 upon. I have only one request. Let each 
 one of you, within a week, write out his 
 opinion, and render in his verdict ; then let 
 the paper be given into the hands of Herr 
 Captain Doctor Eric Dournay, who will 
 break the seal in the presence of two other 
 persons. 
 
 " I will now withdraw a moment, in or- 
 
 der that you may determine whether you 
 will undertake the service under this condi- 
 tion, and, if you think it expedient, may 
 choose a foreman." 
 
 He bowed. There was something theat- 
 rical and yet gravely composed in his man- 
 ner of speaking, and in the way in which 
 he now withdrew for a moment into the 
 adjoining apartment. 
 
 The assembled gentlemen looked at one 
 another ; but no one spoke : all eyes were 
 turned upon Clodwig, from whom an opin- 
 ion was first expected. 
 
 He said now in a quiet and low tone, — 
 
 " Herr Weidmann will be so good as to 
 undertake the office of foreman. We need 
 one to make, in the first place, the necessary 
 preliminary arrangements." 
 
 Weidmann at once accepted the position, 
 and announced that he agreed to the pro- 
 posal for a written verdict. The rest were 
 also ready ; out Professor Einsiedel, begin- 
 ning timidly, and gaining more and more 
 confidence as he proceeded, said that this 
 ought not to exclude consultation together 
 in order to elucidate and confirm the indi- 
 vidual opinion : otherwise, all the effect of 
 a common tribunal would be lost, and it 
 would be superfluous for them to sit there 
 together. 
 
 This opinion was acceded to, and Eric 
 was deputed to call Sonnenkamp again into 
 the room. 
 
 As Eric opened the door, he thought he 
 noticed a nestling like that made by a silk 
 dress, and he was at a loss what to make of 
 it. 
 
 He found Sonnenkamp in the seed-room, 
 hurriedly smoking a cigar : he laid it down, 
 and went back to the audience-room. 
 
 Weidmann informed Sonnenkamp of the 
 conclusion they had- come to, and the re- 
 marks of Professor Einsiedel. 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded assent. 
 
 " Before I resume," he said, taking one of 
 the pieces of wood with a smile, " I must 
 beg indulgence for a habit which I am sorry 
 to say I cannot drop. I am in the habit, 
 when I am alone, busy in thought — and I 
 shall address you as if I were alone — as I 
 remarked, I am accustomed either to smoke 
 or to whittle, oftentimes both together. I 
 can compose myself better if my accus- 
 tomed practice is now indulged in." 
 
 He seated himself, took one of the bits of 
 wood, and, cutting a deep notch around it, 
 began, — 
 
 " I beg that any one of you will interrupt 
 me with questions if involuntarily I leave 
 any thing obscure or unexplained. Now 
 then : I am the only son of the richest man 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 475 
 
 in Warsaw. If I tell you of my youth, it 
 is not because I wish to throw the respon- 
 sibility of my acts upon circumstances or 
 upon fate. My father had the largest busi- 
 ness in wood and grain. When I was six 
 years old, he removed to a large German 
 town, for in clearing a forest my older brother 
 had been killed by a falling tree. My mother 
 died soon after, and lies buried with him in 
 the village near by. I was often told that I 
 should have a step-mother ; but it was not 
 so. My father — I speak as openly of him 
 as of myself — was one of the most popular 
 of men, but felt no affection for any per- 
 son or thing on earth. He gave both 
 hands to every one who approached him, 
 and was extremely complaisant, kind, cor- 
 dial, and expressive ; but, as soon as a man 
 had turned his back, he spoke slightingly 
 of him. He was a hypocrite # from choice, 
 even where there was no necessity of being 
 so. He was so even towards the beggar. 
 This, however, I did not perceive until at a 
 later period. At my father's table there 
 were present state officials, artists, and 
 learned men : they liked good eating, and, 
 in order to get it, were obliged to set off our 
 table with their decorations and titles. We 
 gave great parties, and had no social visit- 
 ing. There were grand banquets in the 
 house, and there sat down at them men 
 decorated with stars, and women with bare 
 shoulders : at the dessert I was brought in, 
 passed from lap to lap, carressed and flat- 
 tered, and fed with ices and confectionery. 
 I was dressed handsomely, and in some old 
 lumber-room there must be a portrait, — I 
 would give a great deal to come across it 
 again, — painted life-size, and with crisped 
 locks, by the first court-painter, and after- 
 wards sold with the rest of our household 
 stuff. We had no relatives. I had a private 
 tutor ; for my father did not want to send 
 me to a public school. I grew up the idol 
 of my father, and he always kissed me 
 warmly when I was carried to him by his 
 order. My tutor indulged me in every 
 thing, and taught me to regard myself alone 
 as the central point of all, and never to pay 
 any regard to my dear fellow human beings. 
 This helped wie more, than he could 
 imagine. The capital thing is to blunt the 
 conscience, as it is termed : all men do it, but 
 some more superficially than others. The 
 world is nothing but a collection of egoisms 
 hanging loosely together. When I was six- 
 teen years old, I had already fallen into the 
 hands of usurers ; for I was the heir of a 
 million, and that was a larger sum then 
 than seven times as much to-day. My 
 father's solicitor settled with them, and, as 
 
 soon as that was done, I ran up new bills, 
 delighted that my credit was so good. In 
 short, I was a fast youth, and I continued to 
 be so. I have already said, I believe, that 
 I had no love, no respect even, for my 
 father, who was — the truth must be told — 
 one of the most exquisite hypocrites that 
 ever wore the white cravat of respectability. 
 My father was a very honest hypocrite. 
 Others dissemble, and whitewash it over 
 with a coating of ideality, persuading them- 
 selves that there is something real and ac- 
 tual in other things than money and pleas- 
 ure. My father was also a philosopher, 
 and used to say, My son, the world belongs 
 to him who has strength or cunning enough 
 to conquer it; and whoever takes a senti- 
 mental view has the pleasure of taking it, 
 and nothing more." 
 
 Sonnenkamp scraped energetically at the 
 bit of wood which he held in his hand, and 
 for a moment nothing was heard but the 
 scratching of the knife rounding off the 
 end. 
 
 " This being said," he resumed, " I can 
 continue with calmness. At seventeen 
 years of age, I was a spendthrift, inducted 
 into all kinds of respectable iniquities. I 
 was a jolly comrade, a good-for-nothing fel- 
 low; but I was respectable, rich, and there- 
 fore very popular; for nature and destiny 
 had been terribly lavish in securing this 
 result. My father regularly paid my gam- 
 bling debts and other debts also. He went 
 with me to the ballet, and often handed me 
 his more powerful opera glass, that I might 
 get a better view of the sylph-like Cortini, 
 who was no stranger to me, as he very well 
 knew. Yes, we were a jovial set. My 
 father gave* me only one counsel, and that 
 was, Don't confine yourself to one. Every 
 Sunday I must dissemble, and say I was 
 going to church ; but my father knew well 
 enough, and took a secret satisfaction in the 
 knowledge, that I went elsewhere. Our 
 carriage stood every other Sunday at the 
 church where the most pious and celebrated 
 preacher held forth ; and on the alternate 
 Sunday we did not drive, but walked, 
 for then our coachmen also went, and our 
 horses, too, had a Sunday. Our very ser- 
 vants must appear pious. My father was 
 Protestant, and I was Catholic out of 
 regard to my mother. I leave it for others 
 to decide in which confession hypocrisy is 
 cultivated the more successfully. 
 
 " Now the question came up what was I 
 to do ? I had no fancy for sitting at the 
 accountant's desk, and wanted to be a sol- 
 dier ; but I was not of noble rank, and was 
 not willing to be received at the Jockey 
 
476 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Club simply on sufferance. I dropped off 
 from my youthful companions, and from 
 that time played the gentleman. I went to 
 Paris. I enjoyed a superfluity of the pleas- 
 ures furnished by the world. Most people 
 plume themselves upon their virtue, and their 
 virtue is nothing more than a feebleness of 
 constitution ; they make a virtue of neces- 
 sity. When I had sowed enough wild oats, 
 my father sent for me. I lived at home, 
 and the specimens I saw before me of what 
 was termed virtue were nothing but coward- 
 ice, and fear of not being respected. To 
 be virtuous is a bore ; to appear virtuous is 
 amusing and profitable at the same time. 
 Every thing that can be done without de- 
 tection, is allowable: the main thing is to 
 belong to society. I often went from the 
 most brilliant assemblies into the wretched- 
 est dens ; and the lowest vice seemed to me 
 the most worthy of respect. I was a roue, 
 and remained so. We were proud of be- 
 ing a rollicking and reckless crew. It had 
 a sort of poetic tinge. Let one be a poet 
 like Byron, be a genius, an exception to the 
 ordinary crowd, and what in lower condi- 
 tions would be crime is then regarded as a 
 gallant feat. I saw that the whole world 
 was vice under a mask, and I think there is 
 no vice ; the name is given, poison is writ- 
 ten on the phial, so that the bulk of man- 
 kind may not drink out of it. I was made 
 acquainted, whether accidentally or design- 
 edly I do not know, with a beautiful girl, 
 fresh as a rose. It was time that I, at one 
 and twenty, should settle down as a married 
 man. All congratulated me on having sowed 
 my wild oats, as it is termed, and that I 
 was now to become a respectable husband 
 and the head of a family. My botrothed was 
 an enthusiastic child, and I don't un- 
 derstand it to this day, how she could 
 make light of my past as she did, probably 
 under the direction of her mother. Why I 
 married the child I do not know. As I was 
 going to church, and returning from it, as 
 I was making the wedding trip, in which 
 every thing was very modest and proper, it 
 seemed to be somebody else, and not myself, 
 who was the actor. We returned, and — 
 but 1 will spin out the story no further than 
 to say, that I discovered an earlier attach- 
 ment of the sweet child. The only thing 
 that vexed me was to be laughed at. I left 
 her, and while the arrangements were being 
 made for a separation, she died, and with 
 her an unborn life. I was again free, free ! 
 That means that I was in Paris. I wanted 
 to enjoy life : to drain the cup to the very 
 dregs. Dissipation, dissipation, was my 
 sole end : I yearned for distracting pleasure 
 
 — I wanted to exhaust life, and every morn- 
 ing it was new born. My soul was a void, 
 a void everywhere. I despised life, and 
 yet did not fling it from me. What has life 
 to offer ? Reputation or riches — the for- 
 mer I could not strive after, the latter was 
 open to me. My father wanted to hold me 
 within a narrow range. I operated on the 
 Exchange. I gained considerable sums, and 
 lost them again, but still had enough left 
 to keep afloat by means of gambling. I 
 was at Marseilles, among a jolly set, when 
 I heard of my father's death. The largest 
 part of my inheritance was seized upon by 
 my creditors, and, because I wanted to have 
 no recollections of home, I wrote to the 
 attorney to sell off every thing. A mali- 
 cious saying went the rounds after his 
 death. We had had no idea how well he was 
 known ; now it was said, ' There was one 
 good thing about him, and that is, he was 
 better than his son.' 
 
 " The Germans say that God and the 
 Devil are wrestling with one another for 
 the dominion of the world. I have hith- 
 erto only heard of these two mighty poten- 
 cies, they have never yet presented them- 
 selves before me ; but I was convinced that 
 there were two things engaged in a strong 
 tussle, and these were Work and Ennui. 
 Men benumb themselves in work, in pleas- 
 ure, in the foolery of morality, as it is 
 termed. All is vanity,, the wise king has 
 said; but it ought to be said, All is stale, 
 tedious, flat, a long-drawn yawn, that ends 
 only in the death-rattle. I have run over 
 the whole sandy desert of ennui, and there 
 is no remedy there but opium, hashish, gam- 
 bling, and adventure. I took lessons of a jug- 
 gler, and acquired great skill, for which I 
 stood in high repute among my companions ; 
 I had the most splendid apparatus. I lived 
 in Italy at a later period, out of pure wan- 
 tonness, as a juggler by profession. I was 
 in Paris at the time of Louis Philippe ; 
 there's nothing merrier than these frequent 
 erneutes : they are the people's games of 
 chance." 
 
 Sonnenkamp stopped, and now, boring 
 with his knife very delicately, he said, — 
 
 " Do you look at me in astonishment, be- 
 cause I impart wisdom ? Well, that is also 
 insipid like every thing else : honor, gold, 
 music, friendship, glory, all is emptiness. 
 The men. of virtue, the men of honor, are 
 all like those augurs who could not look 
 into each other's faces without laughing at 
 the idle tale which they impose upon the 
 world. Tfie gods of to-day, in the church 
 as well as in the world, say, Ave know that 
 you are only hypocrites ; but that you must 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOÜ 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 477 
 
 play the hypocrite is an evidence of our 
 authority. And the so-called delight in 
 • nature, in mountain and valley, in water 
 and forest, sunlight and moonlight and 
 starry brightness — what does it all amount 
 to ? a mere cheat, a curtain to hide the 
 grave you are to lie in. What is a man 
 to do in the world ? Do you know that 
 millions have lived before him, and have 
 looked at the stars ? Is he to be proud of 
 playing the same old tune over and over 
 again, like the man with his hurdy-gurdy, 
 grinding out the same melody to-day and 
 to-morrow that he did yesterday ? You see 
 I had learned my Byron by heart. The 
 misfortune was, that I was neither a poet 
 nor a highly interesting pirate. I was dis- 
 gusted with the world and with myself. I 
 did not want to kill myself. I wanted 
 to live, and to despise every thing. I had 
 madly, as if in mockery of myself, lost 
 every thing at play ; and now came the 
 merriest thing of all. It was a cold, wet 
 night; but it suited me well, as I went 
 through the streets, completely plucked as I 
 was. Whew ! How lustily the wind blew ! 
 it was cooling. Here was I traversing the 
 ant-hill of the great city ; my money I had 
 gambled away, and my love had been un- 
 faithful. A nice, prudent little fellow there 
 was, who proved to me over a bottle of 
 canary, that I possessed a capital which I 
 didn't understand how to put at interest ; 
 that I was a born diplomatist. I knew the 
 decoy-duck at the first whistle. I was to 
 be a diplomatist, and so I sported that 
 character. New horses, new servants, a 
 new love, and a large new house, were now 
 mine. I was an attache ; in good German, 
 I was a spy. I cover the word with no 
 nice little moral cloak. The life was a 
 merry one. This time the discovery had 
 been made : now dissembling had a defi- 
 nite end. The praise which the ambassa- 
 dor lavished upon me I deserved more 
 than he was aware. Did you ever hear 
 of being insured against the insurance com- 
 pany ? I brought the ambassador most 
 important information ; but I had an after- 
 appointment with the minister of police, 
 and gave him secret notice of the ambassa- 
 dor's machinations. The ambassador gave 
 me false information ; but we could extract 
 from this what his real intention was." 
 
 A smile passed over the countenances 
 of the hearers, and Sonnenkamp contin- 
 ued, — 
 
 " A day came when I must flee. I had 
 the choice of five passports with five differ- 
 ent names under which to travel. I wanted, 
 first of all, concealment ; and one is best 
 
 concealed among so called honest people. 
 I came to Nice, where I was a gardener. 
 All my senses were paralyzed. I seemed 
 to myself a corpse, and as if I with 
 nry thoughts were only the companion of 
 this corpse. Here I and the gardener be- 
 came one again ;• the odor of the moist 
 earth was the first thing that, for a long 
 time, had given me any pleasure, no, that 
 made me feel I was alive. Chemistry can 
 imitate every thing ; but the fragrance that 
 rises out of the fresh earth no perfume ever 
 possessed. Herr Dournay surprised me on 
 the first hour of his arrival, just as I was 
 digging in the fresh mould. It gave me 
 strength. The masquerade pleased me; 
 I had good sleep, a good appetite. The 
 gardener's daughter wanted to marry me. 
 I had again a reason for flight. I had laid 
 away a good sum of money ; now I dug it 
 up. I began a new life of pleasure at Na- 
 ples. I confess I was proud of assuming 
 all sorts of transformations : I was entirely 
 afloat, in good health and good spirits. I 
 had a good circulation, and social talent : 
 the world was mine. I had friends wher- 
 ever I went : how long were they my 
 friends ? Perhaps only so long as I stuck 
 fast to my money. That was a matter of 
 indifference to me. I desired no loyalty, 
 for I gave none. I was always thankful to 
 my parents for one thing ; they had given 
 me an indestructible constitution. I had 
 a body of steel, a heart of marble, and un- 
 shakable nerves ; I knew no sickness and 
 no pity. I have experienced many provo- 
 cations to pity " — 
 
 He paused. It was the only time during 
 his whole speech that he smiled ; and a 
 peculiar smack of satisfaction proceeded 
 from him. 
 
 Then he continued : — 
 
 " A strange trait of sentimentalism stuck 
 fast to me, however. It was at Naples, on 
 a wonderfully beautiful evening, we were 
 sailing in a miscellaneous and merry party 
 on the sea, and I was the merriest of the 
 whole. We disembarked. Who can tell 
 what transpires in a human being ? At this 
 time, there, under the bright Italian sky, in 
 the midst of laughing, singing, jesting men 
 and women, the thought darted through my 
 mind : What hast thou in the wide world ? 
 Nothing. Yet there is one thing : yonder 
 in Poland thy mother's grave. And out of 
 laughing, wanton Italy, I travelled without 
 halt through the different countries, saw 
 nothing, journeying on and on towards 
 dreary, dirty Poland. I came to the village 
 that I had not seen since my sixteenth year. 
 And such is man — no, such am I ! I did 
 
478 
 
 THE C0UNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 not Avant to undergo the pain of seeing my 
 mother's grave. I looked over the burial- 
 ground hedge ; but I did not go inside, and 
 travelled baek again without having seen 
 the grave. Such am I, so good or so bad; 
 I believe they are one and the same thing. 
 I travelled through Greece and Egypt, and 
 was in Algiers. I have led a life of utterly 
 unbridled excess, and have done every 
 thing to undermine my vital power, but have 
 failed to accomplish it. I have an iron, in- 
 destructible constitution. I was in Eng- 
 land, the land of respectability. It may be 
 that I have a special eye to see them ; but 
 I saw everywhere nothing but masks, hypoc- 
 risy, conventionalism. I took ship for Amer- 
 ica. You will laugh when I tell you that I 
 meant to join the Mormons, and yet such is 
 the fact. These people have the courage and 
 honesty to ordain polygamy by law, while 
 in the rest of the world it exists under a 
 lying disguise. But I was not suited to that 
 community. I soon returned to New York, 
 and there I found the high-school and 
 the Olympus of gamblers. The fast livers 
 of Paris and London are bunglers compared 
 with the Yankees. It was the fashion to 
 declaim against the Southern chivalry ; but 
 I have found among them truly heroic na- 
 tures, of the stuff out of which conquering 
 Rome was built up. Only he who has been 
 in America knows what the being that 
 calls himself man is in reality. Every thing 
 there is reckless, untramelled. They only 
 dissemble in the matter of religion, that's 
 respectable." 
 
 Eric and Weidmann looked at • each 
 other. Weidmann had given expression to 
 the same thought a few days before at Mat- 
 tenheim, but in a wholly different connec- 
 tion. 
 
 Sonnenkamp went on. 
 
 " My five passes were still good. I went 
 here under the name of Count Gronau : the 
 Americans are fond of intercourse with 
 noblemen. After a wild night, I shot a man 
 who had insulted me on the public street. 
 I fled, and lived for a time among the horse- 
 thieves of Arkansas. It was a droll life, a 
 life of craft and adventure that nowhere 
 else has its like. Man becomes there a 
 lurking beast of prey, and my body under- 
 went the most monstrous experiences. I 
 left this partnership, and became a sailor on 
 a whaling-ship. I had shot lions and leop- 
 ards in Algiers, and now I was hunting the 
 king of the ocean. The whole world is 
 here only to be captured and subdued. I 
 have been through all sorts of experience. 
 I soon gained dexterity enough to reach the 
 position of boat-steerer, and I was appoint- 
 
 ed to this. There was one thing more ; to 
 hunt men, the merriest of all. This was 
 adventure worth engaging in, this man- 
 hunting : here was a new excitement, a 
 novel attraction. We sailed for Madagas- 
 car through many perils. We caught men 
 and bought men ; boldness and cunning 
 were called into activity, and, the business 
 pleased me. Great risk, great profits. In 
 Louisiana, where the great sugar planta- 
 tions have each three, tour, and five thou- 
 sand slaves, and in Charleston, South Caro- 
 lina, are the chief slave-markets ; for the 
 most part, boys are carried there, and no 
 elderly men. You will consider it con- 
 temptible ; but it does appear to me a 
 triumph of human freedom and power for 
 one man to steal and sell another. No ani- 
 mal can so seize and serve his kind, always 
 supposing, though by no means granting the 
 fact, that negroes are men. Yes, I have 
 been a slave-trader : they called me the sea- 
 eagle. That bird has the sharpest scent, 
 he flies off, and cannot be caught. It was a 
 bold and beautiful pastime. I have even 
 stolen the chief who was selling me his sub- 
 jects. These talking black beasts are equal 
 to their so-called fellow-men in one respect, 
 perhaps, — I say perhaps, — they can play 
 the hypocrite like white men. No beast 
 can dissemble, and, if dissembling can give'a 
 title to human rights, then the blacks deserve 
 that title. After the first burst of rage, the 
 chief was very tractable ; but one day I was 
 pursued, with my cargo on board, by an 
 English ship, and had to pitch the whole 
 human dust-heap into the sea. This gave 
 food to the sharks. Look here, this is the 
 finger which the chief tried to bite off : you 
 know how he has made his appearance in 
 these days. From that time I left off going 
 to sea, and carried on the business through 
 others ; finally I gave it up altogether. I 
 had enough, I had large plantations, and the 
 child of the boat-steerer, who had died in 
 the whale-fishery, had been brought up by 
 me, and I married her. Such a being, only 
 half-awake, prattling like a child in every 
 thought, or, rather, with no thought at all, 
 was pleasing to me. I had at that time no 
 idea that there were women with great, 
 heroic, world-conquering souls." 
 
 Sonnenkamp spoke these last words in a 
 very loud tone. After a short pause, he 
 continued, — 
 
 " I was living in quiet retirement when 
 the insane party of the North arose, whose 
 object was to abolish slavery. And when 
 my own countrymen entered into the front 
 ranks as the magnanimous friends of man, 
 I came forward in the newspapers and 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 479 
 
 acknowledged myself a German, in order 
 to say that all were not like these shriekers 
 about humanity. I showed that it was 
 madness to desire to free the slave. Humane 
 men wanted to render benevolent aid ; but 
 the wretchedness of the world is not cured 
 by benevolence, nor the poverty, nor the 
 crime. The works of mercy, all seven to- 
 gether, do not help the world, they are all 
 quack-remedies : the only real benevolence 
 to the lower orders of men is slavery. They 
 want to be nothing else than what they 
 are : the best thing is for them to be taken 
 care of by their masters — for the blacks 
 certainly, and no less so, perhaps, for the 
 whites. Herr Weidmann knows that his 
 nephew has been my bitterest enemy. I 
 was in the Southern States, and there I and 
 my compeers were nobles. We are the 
 privileged class. " There are privileged 
 races, and privileged persons among those 
 races. The barons of the Southern States 
 seemed to me the only honest men I had 
 become acquainted with; everywhere else 
 there was hypocrisy. I was displeased, in- 
 deed, that they wanted to get for their 
 cause the cover of religion ; but it was a 
 rich joke that the ministers of religion vol- 
 unteered their aid in this attempt. 
 
 " But I soon learned to have less regard 
 even for this Southern chivalry. They are 
 hypocrites, too ; for they hold slaves, and 
 yet despise him who imports the slaves. 
 This is a remnant of the old hypocrisy of 
 setting up a standard of virtue. Why deny 
 the natural, open, pitiless mastership ? Why 
 not openly acknowledge that which they ac- 
 knowledge in secret ? Because the English 
 worshippers of rank place slave-traders in 
 the category of pirates ? Even the freemen 
 of the South are themselves the slaves of a 
 vulgar notion. Now it came over me. 
 When I had a son, a longing was awakened 
 within me which I could not appease. I 
 know not whether I have already told you, 
 that, in my early days, the thought often 
 occurred to me, had I been a noble, had I 
 with my courage and my ability entered the 
 military service, I should have become a 
 steady man like the rest : I might have been 
 for a time dissipated ; but then I should have 
 managed my estate, and been the founder 
 of an honorable line. The fundamental 
 cause of my adventurous, restless life 
 always seemed to me to be the fact that I 
 was a commoner, having every claim to a 
 privileged station, and yet always thrust 
 into the back-ground. I know that it is an 
 inconsistency ; I despise the world, and I 
 strive after honor. This proceeds from a 
 youthful impression of what was meant by 
 
 the nobility. The only guaranty for the 
 world's smile is rank and genius ; without 
 one of these you do not escape from medi- 
 ocrity and sufferance. I pictured to my 
 wife what a grand life was led at some 
 little court in Germany, and it became a 
 fixed idea in her mind. One can tear out 
 the heart more easily than root out from it 
 a thought. I see the struggle coming in the 
 New World : courage and strength are on 
 our side. There will be a slaughter unpar- 
 alleled ; but we shall be victorious. The 
 Southern States want independence, and 
 this is the only, the highest thing. I have 
 labored in Europe for our cause. We lived 
 in England, in Italy, in Switzerland. I 
 thought, for a time, of becoming what is 
 called a free, sober citizen of Switzerland. 
 But I hated Switzerland : it suffers the for- 
 eigner to be free, so long as he is a foreign- 
 er ; if he becomes a citizen of the State, he 
 can no longer be a free man, but must take 
 part in all their petty concerns. He who 
 is not earning money, and who will not be 
 pious — one can do both at the same time 
 without much trouble — he who doesn't 
 want to live frugally, will not do for Switz- 
 erland. No court, no nobility, no barracks 
 there ! — nothing but church, school, and 
 hospital, things that are of no account to 
 me. I didn't want to remain in Switzerland, 
 with inaccessible heights before my eyes ; 
 it's oppressive, and for that reason, here 
 on the Rhine it's cozy and homelike. Ger- 
 many is and will be the only land for free 
 men. Here one pays his tax, and is let 
 alone. No one has any claim, and in his 
 position the nobleman is liable to no inter- 
 ference. I returned to Germany, because I 
 wished to acquire for myself and for my son 
 a brilliant position in society. The regard 
 of one's neighbors, one's fellow-men, is a 
 fine luxury, perhaps the very finest : this, I 
 wanted to have too. I wanted to give my 
 son what only the German perfectly knows, 
 dutiful service ; and with this view there 
 was perpetually ringing in my ears one mel- 
 ody — the only sentimentalism I can re- 
 proach myself with — a villa on the Rhine. 
 This was the dream of my childhood, this, 
 of my mature life, and this has been my 
 ruin. t When I looked the whole world 
 over, and asked myself where life could be 
 passed most happily, then I had to confess, 
 as I said before, that it is the highest pinna- 
 cle of enjoyment to be a rich baron of some 
 small German state. Here one may have 
 a life fraught with enjoyment without any 
 claim of duty, and receive all honor in a 
 limited circle, and enjoyment besides. I 
 have become familiar with all the different 
 
480 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HO USE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 strata of existence. I have caroused and scuf- 
 fled with the red-skins, and more than once 
 have been in danger of adorning some Indian 
 with my seal]), and I wanted now to make 
 trial of the red-collars and their chief. I did 
 not want to leave the world without know- 
 ing what court life was. I cherished still one 
 idyllic dream — something of the German 
 romance hangs by me yet — and, not with- 
 out reason, I called my house Villa Eden. 
 Here it was my purpose to live in enjoy- 
 ment with my plants, and like my plants ; 
 but I have been dragged again into the 
 world, more by the thought of my children 
 than any thing else. Enough ; you are well 
 aware that I wanted to be ennobled. Let 
 it be. I have now come to the . end. 
 But"— . 
 
 He paused, and looked at what he had 
 whittled out ; it was an African's head, with 
 the tongue lolling from his mouth. With 
 one sharp cut, Sonnenkamp suddenly cut 
 off tongue and mouth, so that they fell down 
 into his lap ; then, grinning like the figure 
 in his hand, he went on : — 
 
 "I have placed myself and mine under 
 the protection of civilization ; I have taken 
 refuge, not in the savage wilderness, but in 
 the bosom of cultivated life, as it is termed. 
 To be honest, I do not repent it. I am no 
 milk-sop ; my soul has been tempered in the 
 fire of hell. I made no concealment of my 
 past history, because I considered it bad. 
 What in this world is bad ? I concealed my- 
 self from folly and weakness. Thousands 
 repent without becoming any better. Had 
 I been a soldier in a successful war, perhaps 
 I should have been a hero. I am a man 
 without superstition : I haven't even the 
 superstition of the so-called humanity. I 
 live and die in the conviction that what is 
 called equal rights is a fable ; to free the 
 negro will never do a particle of good, they 
 will be exterminated, when it comes to the 
 pass that a negro may sit in the White 
 House at Washington. The world is full of 
 hypocrisy, and my only pride is, that I am 
 no hypocrite. 
 
 " But now, honorable and worthy gentle- 
 men, is there any question you would like 
 to ask ? I am ready to answer it." 
 
 He made a pause. 
 
 No one made any response. 
 . " Well, then," was his close, " gentlemen 
 of honor and of virtue, I demand of you, not 
 for my own sake, but for the sake of my 
 children, to impose upon me some sort of 
 reparation. If you demand that I should 
 kill myself, I will do it; if you enjoin ban- 
 ishment, I will go away ; if you require the 
 
 half of my property, which is far more than 
 I have ever acquired from the negroes, my 
 fellow-men, as they are called, I will resign 
 it; 1 thank you, and await your verdict on 
 the appointed day." 
 
 He retired, and left the men by them- 
 selves. 
 
 Clodwig whispered to Eric, — 
 " Cain slew his brother : the Cain of to- 
 day sells his brother." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CONSULTATION OF THE MEN, AND A 
 WOMAN'S VERDICT. 
 
 Who could describe the various changes 
 of expression in the features of the judges 
 during Sonnenkamp's speech ! 
 
 After he had retired, they sat together in 
 silence. 
 
 Weidmann looked bright and unmoved : 
 his clear blue eye was calm, and he seemed 
 surprised by nothing he had heard. 
 
 The Major was busy with an internal 
 struggle, passing, in review before him, his 
 neglected youth. He often struck his breast 
 with his clenched hand, thinking to hira- 
 himself, — 
 
 " Yes, who knows but that you might have 
 become just like this ! " 
 
 And he was overpowered by the emotion 
 caused by considering his own case, and 
 that of the man who had spoken so defiant- 
 ly. He wanted to keep from shedding 
 tears, but did not succeed. He wiped off 
 the perspiration from his face with his 
 handkerchief, and at the same time got rid 
 of the tears. He longed to go to the poor 
 rich man, embrace him, and call out to him, 
 " Brother, brother, you have been a very bad 
 brother ; but now you are going to be a good 
 brother : you will be ? " But he did not ven- 
 ture to give way to the impulse of his heart. 
 He looked round, to see whether any one 
 would begin ; but no glance was directed to- 
 wards him, except the kindly one of Profes- 
 sor Einsiedel, to whom the Major nodded, 
 as if he would say, — 
 
 " Yes, in all your books, you have never 
 seen any thing like this. It is horrible, 
 that a man can think and do all this ; but I 
 pity him from the bottom of my heart, and 
 you pity him too : I see you do." 
 
 The Doctor was the first to speak aloud, 
 and he said to Clodwig, — 
 
 " We have been, without meaning it, 
 the listeners to a comic performance. A 
 simple-minded transgressor, a transgressor 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 481 
 
 from the impulse of passion, can, perhaps, be 
 converted; a cunning and hardened one, 
 never." 
 
 " With all my detestation," replied Clod- 
 wig, " I admire this power, which can so lay 
 bare the hypocrisy of the world. Oh," — 
 
 His mouth seemed parched ; and he moved 
 his tongue frequently, this side and that, 
 appearing unable to say any thing further. 
 He looked at the expressive countenance of 
 the Banker, and, nodding to him, said, — 
 
 " I see you have a word to say. Pray 
 say it." 
 
 The Banker, coloring very red, respond- 
 ed, — 
 
 " Certainly. I will not speak of the 
 emotion this life-history has excited in me. 
 It is — I know not what to call it ; but 
 I think it is a history of humiliation : and 
 perhaps a Jew ought to be inclined to judge 
 righteously, I will say mercifully, of all sins 
 and transgressions which proceed from 
 being slighted and contemned. Humilia- 
 tion, placing the matter in a social point of 
 view, awakens bitterness, hardness, reck- 
 lessness ; and it must be a peculiar nature, 
 which becomes, under its influence, mild, 
 even to faint-heartedness and weakness." 
 
 The Doctor respected the man's point 
 of view ; but he did not seem disposed to 
 accede to it. He urged a decision, ask- 
 ing, — 
 
 " Have you any method of punishment 
 or reparation to propose ? 
 
 " First of all," replied the Banker, " I 
 don't know any thing else, except to take 
 away from this man all parental power over 
 his children ; and we must devise some del- 
 icate way of doing this, in order not to in- 
 flict suffering upon them." 
 
 " We Germans," cried the Doctor brisk- 
 ly, " are for ever and ever schoolmasters. 
 This hard, seared villain of a Sonnenkamp 
 wants to teach that his villany is pure 
 wisdom and logic ; and he contemptuously 
 garnishes his cynicism with ideas." 
 
 " Exile," began Professor Einsiedel, — 
 " exile would be the only sentence we, like 
 the ancients, could pronounce upon him 
 who has desecrated and insulted all the 
 blessings of civilization ; but there is no 
 land to which we could banish him, where, 
 stripped .of all the conquests won by civili- 
 zation, he could atone tor his past life." 
 
 Professor Einsiedel seemed not to take it 
 amiss that he had an opportunity to put to 
 a practical use the studies he had made of 
 the history of slavery, and to show how the 
 Greeks had no perception of its iniquity ; 
 but the Doctor laid his hand upon the pro- 
 fessor's shoulder, as much as to say, — 
 
 " Some other time, I pray." 
 
 The Professor gave him a nod. 
 
 " Every punishment we suspend over 
 him," said Prince Valerian, "is a punish- 
 ment of his children : he is protected by an 
 invulnerable shield." 
 
 There was now a longer pause. " And 
 yet we shall and must find one," cried Weid- 
 mann. " I beg you to come together here, a 
 week from to-day, at the opening of the 
 sealed opinions ; and then we will come to 
 a decision. It is our duty to find some pun- 
 ishment that will make atonement without 
 striking the guiltless." 
 
 In a faltering voice, the Major entreated 
 the friends not to separate : they had, as 
 yet, come to no proper decision ; and he 
 could not help himself out of the difficulty. 
 He would have been very glad to ask that 
 he might be allowed to take Fräulein Milcb 
 into counsel, for he was sure that she could 
 help him ; but in a jury one must make up 
 an opinion for himself. 
 
 The heavy head of the Major swayed 
 this side and that, and seemed to be almost 
 too heavy for him to hold up. 
 
 Those assembled seemed to desire to 'be 
 freed from the painful situation ; and Weid- 
 mann exclaimed, — 
 
 " I pronounce the meeting adjourned." 
 
 They all rose as if they must escape from 
 imprisonment, or from an infected atmos- 
 phere. They would have liked to go out 
 into the fresh air ; but it rained steadily, and 
 there were puddles and small rills in the 
 garden walks. They went into a spacious 
 apartment, and Claus said, — 
 
 " How would it answer — allow me, gen- . 
 tlemen, to ask — how would it answer, if we 
 sentenced Herr Sonnenkamp to go back 
 home, and sell himself for a slave?" 
 
 As no one replied, he went on timidly, — 
 
 " I dont know whether that would be 
 just the thing ; but 'twould be something, 
 anyhow." 
 
 Weidmann told him that no white man 
 could be made a slave. 
 
 " This Herr Sonnenkamp," said Clodwig 
 with quivering lips to Eric, ' ; is nothing 
 but a victim of the distracted condition of 
 our age. The whole of humanity at the 
 present time has a troubled conscience ; 
 it knows that it is not in harmony with 
 itself and this creates a universal unrest. 
 This individual man, driving hither and 
 thither, prosecuting iniquity by night, and 
 extremely respectable by day : this is the 
 outbirth of our life. Ah ! excuse me, I feel 
 quite sick." 
 
 Clodwig requested the Doctor to accom- 
 pany him to Wolfsgarten, as he felt very 
 
482 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 unwell ; but, just as the Doctor was getting 
 into the carriage with him, he was called 
 to Frau Ceres. 
 
 Joseph came, in a short time, and in- 
 formed Clodwig that flie Doctor could not 
 leave his patient. 
 
 The Doctor remained with Frau Ceres, 
 who had strangled the parrot in a parox- 
 ysm of madness, and smashed every thing 
 in the room. 
 
 He opened a vein, from which the blood 
 flowed very dark ; and she became more 
 quiet. 
 
 Sonnenkamp did not leave his room 
 when the account of his wife's illness was 
 brought to him. 
 
 The doctor again sent word to Clodwig, 
 that he had better remain here, especially 
 as it was raining very hard, and the Rhine 
 was beginning to rise ; but Clodwig insisted 
 on returning home. 
 
 Now the Doctor came himself, and begged 
 the banker to drive with Clodwig to Wolfs- 
 garten, and Clodwig himself entreated this 
 favor of his old friend. 
 
 ^he latter agreed at once, only saying 
 that he would first drive speedily to the 
 town to send a telegram, that they need not 
 expect him at home until some further no- 
 tice. He drove away. 
 
 Bella had gone to the green cottage to 
 see Aunt Claudine, and behaved there very 
 amiably towards her and Lina ; but she 
 could not help letting fall some severe ex- 
 pressions in reference to the Professorin 
 and Manna, who had so selfishly taken 
 themselves out of the way whilst such a 
 terrible transaction was taking place in the 
 house. 
 
 When a servant came and informed her 
 that Clodwig wanted to set out immedi- 
 ately, she exclaimed, stamping with her 
 foot, — 
 
 " I will not ! " 
 
 And then she added : — 
 
 " Very well, let him take me up here." 
 
 The carriage drove up ; and Bella seated 
 herself by Clodwig's side without his get- 
 ting out : he sat shivering in one corner. 
 
 " Why do you not ask how I am ? " said 
 he, in a feeble, trembling voice. 
 
 Bella made no reply. She was internally 
 struggling ; but suddenly she exclaimed, — 
 
 " Fob ! You ought all to be ashamed of 
 yourselves ! What are the whole of you in 
 comparison with this man ? He alone is a 
 man, he alone. Here is something grand 
 and strong among this lint-scraping, human- 
 itary set. You are all imbeciles, cowards ! 
 This Sonnenkamp is the only great man, a 
 strong man, a real man. Oh ! if such a 
 man " — 
 
 ' " Well ? If such a man " — 
 
 " Ask me no more questions. I will drive 
 home with you, home, — you have the right 
 to command, — what more do you want ? Not 
 another word, not a word, or I shall not 
 mind the pouring rain, not the least : I 
 shall jump out of the carriage, I shall go off, 
 I don't know where ; but I won't be im- 
 prisoned any longer ; I won't be banished 
 to your miserable, old, pot-digging, pretty- 
 spoken, vaporing, freedom-vaunting, human- 
 ity-rouged world ! " 
 
 " W ife, what are you saying ? Are good 
 and evil then " — 
 
 " Pooh ! Good and evil, these are the 
 crutches on which you lean, because you 
 have nothing to lean on in yourselves. A 
 man must be strong, and have good grit : 
 whether he is good or bad is a matter of 
 indifference. Any thing but weak and sen- 
 timental ; any thing but hiding behind your 
 humanity with its blissful tears. A man who 
 is not made of iron ought to be a woman 
 — no, he ought to be a nun. You are 
 nothing but a set of soft-hearted nuns. 
 Yes, it must be so; it js so. A Jew to sit 
 in judgment on such a man, and an atheist 
 like this Herr Dournay ! Yes, the atheists 
 are the only consistent democrats. All are 
 equal : there's no longer any higher being, 
 no longer any God ; then there's equality, 
 and you are everybody's equal. Dastards, 
 loafers ! May you find goodly fellowship 
 together ! He is the only man. He has 
 done you too much honor in wanting to 
 belong to you, you are not worthy of him. 
 You are all of you afraid of Jean Jacques 
 Rousseau, of the fool of equal rights. It is 
 still to be seen whether the world smothers 
 itself in this mixed mass of equality, or 
 whether there are heights for it to climb. 
 You ought to go across the ocean ; there's 
 the last decisive battle-field ; you are noth- 
 ing but a nobility in a holiday uniform. 
 The Southern States stand erect, and if 
 they fall, there's no more aristocracy ; then 
 you'll all be clipped by the shears of equal 
 rights. Just call the coachman in here, 
 your brother-man ! Don't let him be out 
 there in the rain, he ought to be sitting 
 with us in the carriage. Or shall I call him 
 for you ? " 
 
 She seized the cord, and the coachman 
 reined in. After letting Clodwig wait in tor- 
 ture for a while, she cried, — 
 
 " Drive on, it's nothing." 
 
 She turned her head restlessly, this way 
 and that. Her eyes wildly rolling, and grind- 
 ing her teeth, she exclaimed in a loud tone : 
 
 " Fie upon all the cowards ! Oh ! if I were 
 only a man ! " 
 I Clodwig sat in the corner, shivering. At 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 483 
 
 this moment something clinked in Bella's 
 mouth, and she put her hand up to it. 
 What is that ? Yes, she took it out — it is 
 so. In her angry gnashing of her teeth, she 
 had broken a front tooth, which had been 
 tender for a long time, and required careful 
 treatment. Bella clinched the hand in 
 which she held the tooth, and pressed her 
 lips together. What has happened to her ? 
 The thought rapidly shot through her, How 
 vexatious it was that she could no longer rid- 
 icule those who wear false teeth ; but yet she 
 can, for nobody will believe that she, Bella, 
 has a false tooth. 
 
 They met the Banker waiting for them in 
 the town : he said that he had sent the 
 message to his house, and was ready. 
 
 Bella got out of the carriage, and holding 
 a handkerchief before her mouth, and speak- 
 ing in muffled tones, requested the Banker 
 to accompany her husband, and a servant to 
 stay with her. She hurried towards the 
 railroad. Arrived at the station, she was 
 perplexed ; and without taking the handker- 
 chief from her mouth, she told the servant 
 , to take tickets for the Fortress. Then she 
 sat still in a corner of the passenger-room, 
 with two thicknesses of veil over her face. 
 She rode to the Fortress-City. No one 
 was to know that she wore a false tooth, 
 no one was to see her with a gap in her 
 teeth. 
 
 Clodwig drove homewards, and often 
 wiped his eyes. Above all, his pride was 
 wounded ; he, Clodwig, was scorned, and 
 by whom ? By his wife. And on whose 
 account ? On account of this hollow- 
 hearted adventurer. She has never loved 
 me one single instant : that was a stab to 
 his very heart, and this stab never ceased 
 to be felt ; for what he suffered bodily was 
 transmuted into a suffering of the soul. 
 Who is there that can measure this action 
 and re-action of body and soul ? 
 
 The rain had ceased ; but a mist seemed 
 before Clodwig's eyes, and a heavy gloom. 
 He reached Wolfsgarten ; but all the apart- 
 ments seemed full of smoke, full of haze. 
 He seated himself in his chair. 
 
 " I am lonely, lonely," he said to him- 
 self continually. 
 
 The Banker spoke to him in gentle words ; 
 but Clodwig shook Iiis head : he knew that 
 Bella had never loved him, that she hated 
 him. He felt himself humiliated, scourged. 
 Bella's Avords had wounded him to the 
 heart's core, wounded him to the death. 
 
 They drew off his coat : he looked for a 
 long time at the coat, and nodded with a 
 sad smile. 
 
 Did he forebode that he. would never put 
 it on again ? 
 
 When Bella returned home early the 
 next morning, he looked at her with a ghost- 
 like countenance : he perceived the coldness 
 and hardness of her face. 
 
 " Medusa, Medusa ! " shrieked Clodwig. 
 
 Without knowing he had uttered the 
 words, he fell back on the pillows. 
 
 They restored him to consciousness. 
 Hours of the severest pain elapsed before 
 the Doctor came. Clodwig had also desired 
 Eric to be sent for. 
 
 The Doctor came, and declared Clodwig 
 to be dangerously sick ; the jury trial had 
 excited him too violently, and the drive 
 home through the rain — " and perhaps 
 something else," he added to Bella, who 
 gazed at him without changing a muscle of 
 her face. 
 
 Bella- sent for her brother ; but no one 
 knew precisely where he was. 
 
 " I am loneiy," said she, too. 
 
 She was terrified when she said this ; for 
 she felt that she would soon be really alone. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A KNIGHT ERRANT. 
 
 It was difficult to hunt up Pranken, for he 
 had lost himself when he left Villa Eden. 
 No man ever walked with a firmer and a 
 prouder step, while at the same time he 
 was inwardly crushed, than Pranken. It 
 was something more than external assump- 
 tion, it was an habitual assurance that sus- 
 tained him. 
 
 Pranken would have taken it hard if 
 Manna had rejected him in order to become 
 a nun. But to reject him on account of 
 preference for another, reject him, — Otto 
 von Pranken ! — He was touched to the 
 quick. Otto von Pranken had been refused ; 
 and he was very deeply in love. Can Otto 
 von Pranken offer love, and not have it re- 
 ciprocated V If the girl had taken the veil, 
 and renounced the world, she would have 
 renounced him with the rest, for he was a 
 part of the world ; but to be refused in this 
 way, and dismissed on account of another 
 man ! — Otto von Pranken loves, and his 
 suit is not accepted ! 
 
 " Unprecedented ! " He ground his teeth 
 with rage. He never thought of what he 
 had been guilty of in his life : he only felt 
 his dignity insulted, his pride'mortified, and 
 his love scorned ; for he loved Manna, and 
 wanted to be united to her, and naturally, 
 also, to her money ; then he would be all 
 right, and indulge his passion for handsome 
 horses- 
 
 What should now become of him ? For 
 ] the first time in his life, Pranken felt a pity 
 
484 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 for himself : it seemed to him that he was 
 misunderstood, misappreciated virtue, but, 
 more than all, as if nobleness of bearing 
 had been insulted, and fidelity rewarded 
 with ingratitude. How great sacrifices he 
 had made tor this family ! And now ? It 
 appeared to him as if there were a black 
 funeral-procession passing along in his 
 thoughts : you cannot crowd through it, you 
 must wait until it has all gone by. 
 
 He rode away as if he had been thrust 
 out of the world. Where shall he turn ? 
 To whom shall he complain ? 
 
 Is Otto von Pranken to complain to a 
 man, to appear in a helpless condition be- 
 fore any one ? 
 
 He laughed outright as he now called to 
 mind that he had contracted large debts, 
 in anticipation of the millions which would 
 certainly be his. What next ? 
 
 Involuntarily he turned round once more, 
 and looked back at Villa Eden. 
 
 There was only a single line needed, only 
 a brief interview : yes, he had but to ride 
 back, and represent this to Sonnenkamp, in 
 order to come away with hundreds of thou- 
 sands. But no, it must not be done. 
 
 " Fie ! " said he to himself, how could 
 you ever have such a thought as that ? " 
 
 He rode on, and came to the country- 
 house of Herr von Endlich. There was 
 a young widow here : should he now go 
 in ? He knew that his proposal would not 
 be rejected here. No, not yet. But he 
 reined in and dismounted. He asked after 
 the gracious lady, 1 and was told that she was 
 travelling in Italy with her brother. 
 
 Sneering contemptuously at himself, he 
 again mounted his horse. 
 
 He would tell Bella and Clodwig, — no, 
 not even that. He had not taken them in- 
 to his counsel : in opposition to the rest of 
 the world, he had connected himself with 
 Sonnenkamp, and was he now to be pitied 
 by Clodwig, and stuffed with wise saws ? 
 
 He turned his horse, and, riding up along 
 the river, he came to Villa Eden again, and 
 the horse wanted to turn in at the gate ; 
 but with whip and spur he urged him on. 
 
 He rode to the Priest's, and sent for 
 Fräulein Perini, who came. 
 
 First he asked her if she wished to re- 
 main any longer in the family. 
 
 Fräulein Perini, looking him full in the 
 face, declared that she hoped she had not 
 mistaken him in supposing that he would 
 not abandon every thing to the Huguenots. 
 She asserted that she was the daughter of a 
 man who had fallen in a duel caused by a 
 less provocation. 
 
 The Priest here said, — 
 
 " My noble young friend ! Not that, no, 
 not that : what does it signify, this petty 
 duel in a corner of the wood, and you kill- 
 ing one man even, according to the code of 
 honor ? You sons of the nobility must wage, 
 under the banner of the Pope, the great 
 contest with the revolution. Also for your 
 own sake. On that field will be fought the 
 great duel between faith and irreligion, be- 
 tween eternal law and frivolous self-deifica- 
 tion, and the victory is yours." 
 
 Pranken smiled to himself ; but he did not 
 express how odd it seemed to him, when 
 the Priest went on to state, that, before it 
 was known how Sonnenkamp's money had 
 been acquired, they might have applied a 
 part of it to holy ends ; but now it could not 
 be done. 
 
 Pranken looked at the Priest, and smiled. 
 Did not the Priest know the origin of the 
 money before this ? 
 
 He had it on his lips to say, " It is very 
 amiable and prudent in you now, when 
 nothing can be got, to act as if you had 'de- 
 clined it." But it Avas not necessary ; and 
 why should he imbitter against him the . 
 only parties who remained his friends ? Yes, 
 he was here still an honored personage, not 
 the solitary, abandoned one, who rode out- 
 side there on the road^ up and doAvn, not 
 knowing which Avay to turn. He would 
 now be prudent, he would play with men. 
 He said he had separated from Sonnen- 
 kamp, because the latter would not give up 
 to him, and devote a large sum for a pious 
 purpose. He had the right to say this, he 
 thought, for he had desired that it should 
 be done. This was what he would now 
 maintain ; Manna's refusal was by this 
 means put out of sight, and his obstinate 
 adherence to Sonnenkamp had in it a sort 
 of religious consecration. 
 
 The Priest reminded Pranken that to-day 
 was the time for the church conference, and 
 he was expected to be there. 
 
 Pranken took leave. 
 
 Friiulein Perini returned to the Villa, 
 wearing a proud smile. Odd people, these 
 Germans ! She would at any rate stay un- 
 til she had got enough for herself ; she did 
 not want to leave empty-handed. 
 
 Pranken rode off. He passed the villa 
 which had belonged to the Cabinetsrath. 
 Ah ! they were prudent, they had secured 
 their part of the booty before the decision. 
 Why were you so simple, so considerate, 
 and so trustful ? 
 
 He put up his horse at the station, and 
 rode in the cars to the city where the 
 Bishop lived. He was expected there ; but 
 how was he to present himself to the com- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 485 
 
 pany ? He came, luckily, just as the meet- 
 ing had broken up. He was received with 
 marked consideration at the palace of the 
 Bishop ; and he was glad to feel that there 
 was still honor for him in the world : and 
 here he came to a hurried resolve. 
 
 Here, also, Bella's messenger overtook 
 him. 
 
 He set out, and reached Wolfsgarten. 
 The first person he met was the Banker, 
 who told him, with great emotion, that 
 Clodwig was very ill. Pranken looked 
 haughtily at the man ; but he had good 
 breeding enough to address him civilly. 
 
 He came to Bella. After she had told 
 him of Clodwig's illness, she" lauded Pran- 
 ken as the only true freeman in remaining 
 true to Sonnenkamp. 
 
 Pranken pressed his lips together, but 
 made no reply. It was not the time now 
 to make known what had happened, and 
 the conclusion he had formed. And, when 
 Bella asked him why he seemed' so dis- 
 turbed, he could give no answer. 
 
 " Why were you not at the trial ? Have 
 you come from Villa Eden ? How are 
 they there ? " asked Bella. 
 
 w I don't know," Pranken finally replied. 
 
 Yes, how are they at Villa Eden ! 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 SMOKE AND DESOLATION AT THE VILLA. 
 
 Sonnenkamp sat alone. He seemed to 
 hear in his solitude a crackling, a low, 
 almost inaudible gnawing, like a tongue of 
 flame lapping the beams and joists, devour- 
 ing more and more, and increasing as it de- 
 voured its prey. Such a low crackling, 
 and such a lapping, he believed that he 
 heard in his solitude. 
 
 He was mistaken, and yet he was well 
 aware that there was a spark kindled, and 
 it was burning noiselessly ; it ran along the 
 floor of the room, it reached the walls ; the 
 chairs, the closets, the books, are all on fire ; 
 the painted faces on the canvas are gro- 
 tesquely distorted, and blaze up ; and the 
 flames spread on and on, creeping through 
 all the apartments, enveloping at last the 
 roof and the whole house, and flaring up 
 into the sky. 
 
 Suppose that one should burn it all up, 
 and every thing in it ? No, there is 
 another, a better means of deliverance, an 
 energetic deed, a splendid, grand — here 
 came a knock. It must be Bella coming to 
 explain why she was not there when he re- 
 turned from the trial to the seed-room. 
 
 He opened the door quickly, and Weid- 
 mann, not Bella, entered. 
 
 " Have you any thing to ask me in pri- 
 vate ? " asked Sonnenkamp angrily. 
 
 " I have only a favor to beg of you." 
 
 " A favor ? you ? " 
 
 " Yes. Give me your son " — 
 
 " My son ? " cried Sonnenkamp in aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " Will you be so good as to let me finish 
 my sentence. Let your son come into my 
 family for days, weeks, months, as long as 
 you please ; only let it be long enough for 
 him to get a new hold in a different sphere. 
 He needs an energetic and free activity. 
 When your son passed a short time with 
 me before this thing happened, I perceived 
 with satisfaction that he had very little per- 
 sonal vanity with all his beauty. He takes 
 pleasure in looking at others rather than at 
 himself. This would be of help ; and I 
 would like to aid him still further. As 
 your son will not become a soldier, perhaps 
 it will be well for him to be instructed in 
 husbandry." 
 
 "Is this a plan which you have agreed 
 upon with Herr Dournay ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is his wish ; and it seems to me 
 a very good plan." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said Sonnenkamp. " Perhaps 
 Roland has already been informed of this 
 wish, and of how well it suits ? " 
 
 " I cannot blame you for this bitter feel- 
 ing, I can very well understand it ; for it 
 is no trifling matter to be placed in a situ- 
 ation where others undertake to dispose 
 of us and ours." 
 
 " I thank you, I thank you very kindly." 
 
 " If you decline, then no one knows any 
 thing about it, except Herr Dournay and 
 myself." 
 
 " Have I said that I was going to de- 
 cline ? You will yet receive one proof how 
 much confidence I place in you : I have 
 made you one of my executors." 
 
 " I am much older than you." Sonnen- 
 kamp made no reply to this remark, and 
 Weidmann continued, — 
 
 " What conclusion have you come to 
 about my request concerning your son ? " 
 
 " If he will go with you, he has my con- 
 sent. Allow me one question. Is this the 
 expiation you would exact of me, or a part 
 of it?" 
 
 Weidmann said it was not. 
 
 The carriage in which the Professorin, 
 Roland, and Manna returned, now entered 
 the court-yard. Weidmann welcomed the 
 Professorin very cordially, having known 
 her a long time ago. He saw now for the 
 first time, as a matron, the once blooming 
 
486 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 beauty. The three brought from Matten- 
 heim a fresh strength for all that lay before 
 them. 
 
 As they were sitting together in the green 
 cottage, a messenger on horseback came 
 from Clod wig to summon Eric to his side. 
 
 Weidmann now renewed the proposal 
 for Roland to go with him to Mattenheim. 
 Roland was advised by them all to go. 
 Declaring that he needed no inducement, 
 he readily assented, and drove away with 
 Weidmann, Prince Valerian, and Knopf. 
 He was protected and sheltered by such a 
 number of good men. 
 
 Mauenheim was situated on the other 
 bank of the Rhine ; and, while the carnage 
 was being ferried across, Roland stood at 
 the stern of the boat, and gazed in silence for 
 a long time at the parental home. Tears 
 came into his eyes ; but he restrained them. 
 
 A tornado swept through the park, eddy- 
 ing around the house ; and the fires just 
 kindled in it were extinguished. The many 
 fire-places were of no avail, the whole house 
 was full of smoke ; and a whirling gust of 
 wind seemed to tear all the inmates of Villa 
 Eden away from each other. Roland was 
 gone, Pranken was seen there no more, 
 Manna lived with the Professorin in the 
 green cottage, and Eric had ridden away. 
 Only Sonnenkamp and Frau Geres were 
 there. Fräulein Perini came, and informed 
 Sonnenkamp that his wife desired to speak 
 with him instantly : she was in a state 
 wholly beyond her control. 
 
 Sonnenkamp hurried to Frau Ceres' 
 apartment ; but she was not there. The 
 maid said that as soon as Fräulein Perini 
 had left the room, she had hurried through 
 the house into the park. They went after 
 her immediately, calling her by name. 
 They found her, at last, sitting on the river 
 bank, in the midst of the storm, splendidly 
 dressed, with a coronet on her head, thick 
 rows of pearls on her bare neck, heavy 
 bracelets on her arms, and a girdle of glit- 
 tering emeralds around her waist. She 
 looked at Sonnenkamp with a strange smile, 
 and then said, — 
 
 " You have given me> rich and beautiful 
 ornaments." 
 
 She seemed to grow taller : she threw 
 back her black hair. 
 
 " Look, here is the dagger ! I wanted to 
 kill myself with it ; but I hurl it away from 
 me." 
 
 The hilt of precious stones and pearls 
 sparkled through the air, plunged into the 
 water, and sank. 
 
 " What are you doing ? What does this 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Come back with me ! " she cried, " or, 
 look, I will throw myself into the river, and 
 take with me these ornaments, the half of 
 your riches." 
 
 " You are a deluded child," said Sonnen- 
 kamp contemptously. " You think, do you, 
 that these are genuine stones ? I have 
 never given into your keeping, you simple 
 child, any but imitation jewels : the genu- 
 ine ones, in a like setting and case, I 
 have fast enough in my own possession, in 
 the burglar-proof safe." 
 
 " So !' You are shrewd," replied Frau 
 Ceres. 
 
 " And you, my wild child, you are not 
 crazy." 
 
 " No, I am not, if I'm not made so. I 
 shall remain with you, and never leave you 
 for a single instant. Oh ! I know you — 
 Oh ! I know you, you will forsake me." 
 
 Sonnenkamp shuddered. 
 
 What does this mean ? How does it come 
 to pass that this simple-minded creature has 
 called out his slumbering thoughts, and 
 brought them up from the depths of his 
 soul V He addressed the kindest words to 
 Frau Ceres, and, bringing her back to the 
 house, kissed her. She became quieter ; 
 but the dermination was fixed in him to 
 become free. There was only one thing to 
 be won, and then away into the wide, wide 
 world ! But first of all, he must go to the 
 capital, and shoot down Professor Crutius. 
 He struggled and wrestled with the thought, 
 and at last he was obliged to give it up. 
 But the other thing must be. In confir- 
 mation of this hidden impression of his 
 soul, there came a messenger from Eric, 
 with the tidings, that he could not leave 
 Wolfsgarten, for Count Clodwig was at the 
 point of death. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A TRYING INTERVIEW. 
 
 Eric rode to Wolfsgarten.' He met on 
 the way the Major and Fräulein Milch, who 
 were walking close together under one large 
 umbrella. 
 
 Eric told them that Clodwig was danger- 
 ously sick, and the Major said, — 
 
 "Don't let him have any other nurse. 
 Fräulein Milch will come and take care of 
 him. Herr Captain, one ought to be sick 
 for once, so as to have Fräulein Milch nurse 
 him." 
 
 Fräulein Milch declared herself ready to 
 come to Clodwig, if she were called upon. 
 
 Eric rode on, and now sought to put in a 
 right point of view all that he had experi- 
 
THE COU N.TR Y-HO USE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 487 
 
 enced, so that he might gain the strength 
 necessary to bear up under coming events. 
 How much had happened to him and to 
 others since he rode out from Wolfsgarten 
 to Villa Eden ? Every thing passed through 
 his soul, and he breathed deep in silent sat- 
 isfaction as he thought what would have 
 been his condition now, if he had not ex- 
 erted all his strength to bring himself into 
 right relations with Bella. How different 
 would it be, were he riding now with a soul 
 torn by conflicting feelings, unable to help 
 wishing for Clodwig's death in order that he 
 might get possession of Bella, and obliged 
 to stand like the most abject hypocrite by 
 the bedside of the dying one. No poet 
 yet has ventured to depict the mental state 
 of two people who expect to base their 
 happiness on the news of another's death ; 
 and these, no criminals but cultivated, and 
 intelligent. 
 
 Eric looked upon himself as one rescued 
 from destruction. Never was a man pos- 
 sessed by more pious emotions than Eric 
 was now, as, stopping, he said to himself, — 
 
 " I thank thee, thou Eternal and Ineffable 
 Spirit ; for it is not I who have, through my 
 education and inherited tendencies, become 
 what I am. I am now pure : I will not be 
 unworthy of it, but keep myself pure and 
 innocent." 
 
 Wanting to get rid, finally, of his 
 thoughts and speculations, he spoke to the 
 messenger, an old confidential servant of the 
 Wolfsgarten family. The messenger re- 
 lated how Clodwig had come home from 
 Villa Eden in company with the Banker, 
 and how they had thought he would have 
 died at that time. 
 
 The servant turned round, and, pointing 
 with his whip to Villa Eden, said, " There's 
 no queerer state of things anywhere than 
 in this world.'.' In the midst of his deep 
 distress, Eric could not help laughing aloud 
 at this odd remark. 
 
 " Is any one of the relatives at Wolfs- 
 garten ? " 
 
 " No : the Jew is the only one there. But 
 he is a friend of our master." 
 
 Eric regretted that he had entered into 
 conversation with the servant, for he could 
 not restrain him from talking about what 
 he thought would be done, if the gracious 
 master should die. 
 
 At the last hill, Eric dismounted, and 
 walked over the wooded height. It was all 
 still. The hornbeam tree, which first 
 leaves out, was now the first to let fall its 
 yellow leaves : there was a rustling and a low 
 crackling in the wood, and only the hawk 
 screeched above on the height. 
 
 Eric came in front of the manor-house, 
 and entered the courtyard. He went to 
 Bella, who looked pale and as if suffering 
 severely. He entered just at the moment 
 that Bella was asking her brother of the 
 news at Villa Eden. 
 
 Eric was startled to meet Pranken here. 
 Both had to use the strongest self-control 
 in order to stand up under the interview. 
 
 Bella thanked Eric for being the first one 
 to come to her. 
 
 " He is now asleep," said she : " he talks 
 constantly of you. Be composed : yöu will 
 hardly know him ; give in to him in every 
 thing, he is very excitable." 
 
 Bella's voice was hoarse ; and, covering 
 her eyes with a white handkerchief, she 
 asked, — 
 
 " Were you present when your father 
 died?" 
 
 Eric said that he was. 
 
 Bella went to inform Clodwig of Eric's 
 arrival. Pranken and Eric were by them- 
 selves. For a long time neither spoke : at 
 last, Pranken began, — 
 
 "I never thought that I should speak 
 again to Herr Dournay ; but we are now at 
 a sick-bed, and for the sake of the inva- 
 lid " — 
 
 " I thank you." 
 
 " I beg you to give me no thanks, and to 
 speak to me just as little as possible, — just 
 enough to excite no remark and nothing 
 more." 
 
 He turned round and was about to go. 
 
 " Just one word," Eric requested. " We 
 shall soon see an eye closed in death that 
 has always beamed with gentle and noble 
 feeling ; let all bitterness toward me disap- 
 pear, or, for a time, be suspended. Let us 
 not, at such an hbur as this, stand in hos- 
 tility to each other." 
 
 " You can talk well : I know that." 
 
 " And I want to say what it is well for 
 you to listen to. It troubles me that I ap- 
 pear to you ungrateful ; but now, in this 
 mysterious presence which awaits us all, I 
 repeat " — 
 
 Bella returned and said, — 
 
 " He is still asleep. O Herr Dournay ! 
 Clodwig loves you more than he loves any 
 other person in the world." 
 
 She gave Eric her hand, and it was 
 cold as ice. The three were speechless for 
 some time, until Eric asked, — 
 
 " Is there no hope ? " 
 
 " No. The Doctor says that he has 
 probably only a few hours to live. Do you 
 hear any thing ? The Doctor has promised 
 to come, — to return immediately. Oh, if 
 I I could only induce Clodwig to call in 
 
488 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 another physician ! Do urge him to do it : I 
 have no confidence in Doctor Richard." 
 Eric made no reply. 
 
 " Ah, my God ! " lamented Bella, " how 
 forsaken we are in our need. You will re- 
 main with us, will you not ? You will not 
 abandon us ? " 
 
 Eric promised to remain. 
 
 It had a. strange sound, a reminiscence 
 out of the past, with its forms of courtesy, as 
 Bella now asl^ed pardon for not having in- 
 quired after Eric's mother, Frau Ceres, and 
 Manna; and, with a peculiar jerking out of 
 the words, she asked, — 
 
 " How is Herr Sonnenkamp ? " 
 
 A servant came, and announced that the 
 Herr Count had waked up, and had asked 
 immediately, if Herr Captain Dournay had 
 not yet come. 
 
 " Go to him," said Bella, laying her hand 
 upon Eric's shoulder. " Go to him, I beg 
 you ; but let it come as if from you, and 
 not from me, that another physician should 
 be called in." 
 
 Eric went ; and, as soon as he had gone, 
 Bella said hurriedly to Pranken, — 
 
 " Otto, get rid of the Jew as politely as 
 you can. What does he want here ? " 
 
 Pranken went to the Banker. 
 
 Bella was alone, and could not control 
 her feeling of unrest. She had already 
 arranged in thought the announcement of 
 the decease, and had even written the 
 words, — 
 
 " To relatives and friends I make the pain- 
 ful announcement, that my beloved hus- 
 band, Count von Wolfsgarten of Wolfs- 
 garten, formerly ambassador of his royal 
 Highness at Rome, Knight of the first rank, 
 has died after a short illness, at the age of 
 sixty-five. I beg their silent sympathy. 
 
 "Bella Countess von Wolfsgar- 
 ten (nee, Von Pranken). 
 
 A demon continually whispered to her 
 this announcement : she saw it before her 
 eyes with a black border, even while Clod- 
 wig was still living. Why is this ? What 
 suggests these words, and brings them so 
 clearly before her eyes ? She could not get 
 away from them. She took up the sheet 
 of paper, tore it up, and threw the pieces 
 out of the window into the rain. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE LAST BLUE FLOWER. 
 
 Eric, meanwhile, had entered the sick- 
 chamber. 
 
 " Are you here at last ? " cried Clodwig. 
 
 His voice was faint ; and the small childlike 
 hand which the sick man extended toward 
 him appeared more delicate than ever. 
 
 " Sit down," said he ; " don't be so broken 
 down : you are young and strong, and have 
 a good conscience. Let me take your 
 hand. It is a happiness to die in the full 
 possession of my senses : I have often de- 
 sired to die a sudden death. Better as it 
 is. Tell me, how is your mother ? Are 
 you really betrothed to the daughter of that 
 terrible man." 
 
 Eric could not yet utter a word : he only 
 nodded without speaking, and Clodwig con- 
 tinued, — 
 
 " That is fine, an instance of the grand 
 truth of compensation in the world. Once, 
 you were to become my son — my son ! It is 
 better as it is. I am to have no son. But 
 tell me, how is Roland ? Did he not want 
 to come with you ? I see him, the splendid 
 youth ! he is present all the. time. You 
 have done well, Eric, entirely well. You 
 will stay with the young man. If we could 
 only know what will become of the father ! " 
 
 Before Eric could answer, the invalid 
 lay back upon the pillow. He seemed to 
 have fallen asleep. Nothing was heard 
 but the ticking of the clock ; and now a 
 carriage drove into the court-yard, the 
 wheels cutting into the gravel. 
 
 Clodwig awoke. 
 
 " That is the Doctor," he said aloud. 
 He requested the attendant to say to the 
 physician that he would like to be left with 
 Eric alone for a time. The nurse gave the 
 commission to the servant, and remained in 
 the anteroom. Sitting upright, Clodwig 
 said, — 
 
 " Shut the door : I want to speak to you 
 in private." 
 
 Eric sat by the bedside, and Clodwig be- 
 gan, — 
 
 " This Sonnenkamp, so audacious, and 
 yet — hypocrisy, it is everywhere ; a jum- 
 ble of grimaces, of masks who do not know 
 one another. A sentence upon Sonnen- 
 kamp ? I have let him off entirely. His 
 path is zigzag, his goal horrible. Who 
 shall judge ? I say it here to you, my 
 brain received a fatal lesion when the fear- 
 ful thought entered into it. When I look 
 over my own life, what is it V I have 
 filled out a uniform : we are walking, empty 
 sentry-boxes, painted with the national color. 
 If a discharge comes, we think it something 
 very mysterious ; we whisper — all a farce. 
 The life of most persons is hypocrisy, and 
 so is mine, so long, so honorable ! We have 
 no courage, we do not confess what we are. 
 We are encumbered with forms, compliances, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 489 
 
 courtesies, conformities ; and all is false in- 
 side. We never tell each other what we are 
 as we acknowledge it to ourselves. Don't be 
 afraid. I have no crime, no transgression, 
 now, to acknowledge and to feel remorse 
 for . I have been all my life pure as thou- 
 sands, as millions, by my side ; but I have 
 not been the person that I really am. Do 
 you know that grand word which God 
 spake when he revealed himself in the 
 desert to the holy Shepherd ? It is this. 
 This is God. ' I am that I am.' This is 
 the truth, truthfulness, the divine in every 
 man ; and men deny it. Who can say I 
 am that I am ? I never could, and mil- 
 lions by my side could not. We are all 
 glossed over outside, all and everywhere 
 over-refined — no, not all, but most of us : 
 were all so, the sun would never again rise 
 upon the earth. But the time will come, 
 and you are one of those awaiting its com- 
 ing, you will share in its life, — the time will 
 come, when men shall dissemble no more, 
 shall lie no more, shall pass themselves ofi] 
 for no more than they are, and shall be 
 what they profess to be. Do you compre- 
 hend me ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, perfectly." 
 
 " Know, then, I tell you that I have not 
 done what I ought to have done. I have 
 not gone from hour to hour into the presence 
 of those in power, and said, 1 Thus am I, 
 and thus must you be.' I have lulled myself 
 with a false philosophy ; I have persuaded 
 myself that all would be spontaneously un- 
 folded of itself ; that we are in the direct line 
 of the developing tendencies, and we have 
 nothing to do in furtherance thereof. Ha, 
 ha ! unfold ol itself! Yes, death comes of 
 itself, death comes, and takes away the life 
 that was no real life, no candid reveahnent, 
 no genuine self. I once knew a great actor. 
 To an actor, death will always be the hard- 
 est, not only because he has so often 
 counterfeited death, but because he knows 
 that he leaves behind him his parts, his 
 masks, his paints, his wilted wreaths, his 
 rounds of applause, and he can never be 
 called out again. My son, we diplomatists, 
 we die the death of the actor. I have led 
 an unprofitable life. I had no fatherland 
 to give me other than diplomatic farces to 
 perform. My life has been a busy inactiv- 
 ity : I have spent the greatest part of my 
 life in the livery and the defence of a cause 
 which I did not respect, scarcely had any 
 regard for. Here is this slave-trader. Fie ! 
 the whole world calls out in horror : and 
 yet, in circles held in high estimation, there 
 are far worse than slave-traders. Others, 
 again, are not in the house of correction, 
 
 because they were under no necessity of 
 stealing, and because they were bought off 
 by money from being positively immoral. 
 There, give me now, I beg, a cooling 
 draught, my mouth is parched." 
 
 Eric gave Clodwig a draught ; but they 
 were both so awkward, that it was almost 
 all spilled. 
 
 "No matter, no matter," said Clodwig, 
 smiling, " that's the way in this world : 
 only the smaller part is really drunk, the 
 larger part gets spilled, wasted. There, 
 now go, and let the Doctor come, but come 
 back again afterwards." 
 
 Eric went and called the physician. 
 Bella asked what Clodwig had been talking 
 about. He could only answer in general 
 terms, and begged to be allowed to go into 
 the open air for refreshment. 
 
 He went into the garden. The Novem- 
 ber wind was raging, and the rain driving 
 fiercely. Eric wrapped himself in his cloak, 
 and went into the wood : it did him good to 
 walk in the midst of the uproar of the ele- 
 ments. He went through the park and the 
 wood, by the same path which he had fol- 
 lowed on the morning after telling the story 
 of his life to his newly-won friend Clodwig. 
 Now he could not stride on in exultant 
 mood, as if borne onward by an external 
 force ; now he must battle with the storm 
 which roared over him through the tree-tops. 
 Now, as then, he stood under the covered 
 pavilion ; but in the wide landscape he 
 could see nothing but clouds of driving 
 rain. Close to the wall of the building 
 there was still one beautiful blue-bell : un- 
 consciously he broke it off, and, as he 
 returned to the house, it occurred to him to 
 carry the flower to the invalid. He entered 
 the sick-chamber, and Clodwig cried, — 
 
 " Ah, the blue flower ! You gather it 
 and bring it to me. We have dreamed of 
 them often in my youth. Youth, youth ! " 
 repeated the sick man often. 
 
 He seized the flower, then leaned far out 
 of bed, and smelled of Eric's clothes, say- 
 ing, — 
 
 " Ah ! my son, why do the Bible pictures 
 come up before me now ? The patriarch 
 Isaac said to his son as he came to his sick- 
 bed, 4 The smell of my son is as the smell 
 of a field which the Lord hath blessed.' 
 Yes, Eric, you bring all the free air of the 
 fields into my sick-room. When I am no 
 more, remember that you have done me 
 good." 
 
 Eric wept. 
 
 " Yes, weep, it is well, it will do you no 
 harm that I make your heart heavy. You 
 will be happy and active on the earth 
 
490 
 
 THE COÜNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 whose clods will soon rest on me. Only, I 
 pray you, stay by me when I die ; and when 
 I am dead, and they prepare me for the 
 grave, take something from my heart which 
 must stay there till it has stopped beating. 
 Stay with me, Eric, I will not think of petty, 
 individual interests. I will not leave the 
 world in hatred and anger — no, not in 
 hatred and anger against any man. Help 
 me to attain to the universal, the grand : in 
 those I will live and die." 
 
 He lay back on his pillows ; and, as Eric 
 leaned over him, his breath came quietly, 
 and on his face was a gentle smile. What 
 thoughts might now be stirring this 
 soul ? 
 
 Eric wanted to send a messenger to Villa 
 Eden, to say that he must remain where he 
 was. Lootz, who had been sent by Herr 
 Sonnenkamp to inquire for the Count, car- 
 ried the message back. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD OF A DYING 
 SEER. 
 
 Clodwig slept several hours, while Eric 
 sat with the Banker, and drew refreshment 
 from his self-forgetting sympathy. The 
 Banker failed in many of the ordinary 
 forms of society ; but he possessed a nature 
 full of tact, and, in the midst of his deep 
 emotion, Eric thought that only unselfish- 
 ness has genuine tact. Want of tact is at 
 bottom selfishness ; for the man who is with- 
 out it thinks and acts only for himself. 
 
 Eric now saw the Banker in a new light. 
 In Carlsbad he had made rather an effort to 
 display his intelligence ; but now his gentle 
 and sensible character showed itself natu- 
 rally. Eric remembered the Banker's once 
 having said- to him at Carlsbad, " The Jews 
 are the children of compassion : they under- 
 stand how to bear and to relieve sorrow 
 much better than to create joy ; the remem- 
 brance of past oppression gives them sym- 
 pathy with all suffering." 
 
 The Banker was ready to lend help at 
 any moment, but allowed himself to be put 
 in the background again immediately. 
 
 Bella treated him with manifest neglect, 
 but he took it good-humoredly, showing 
 without words that he was not offended. 
 She acte*d like her mother's own child ; and 
 moreover, he thought, she was not his 
 friend. Clodwig was his friend, and he 
 regarded it as a duty to bear something for 
 his sake. He sat in the library, ready to 
 answer any call, and retiring again as soon 
 
 as he believed himself in the way. To- 
 wards midnight, Eric was suddenly sum- 
 moned ; Clodwig had waked, and asked for 
 him. 
 
 " Ah ! I have slept so well," said Clodwig ; 
 " and it's strange, I constantly dream now 
 of my cousin Hatty, whom I am to marry. 
 I like her, and she likes me ; but she has 
 learned, and will learn nothing at all, and 
 she has such a shrill laugh, and sajys, 
 ' Come, Clodwig, your're so sad, come, marry 
 me, we'll be merry.' And then I say, 
 ' Child, I'm so old already ! see, I've no 
 teeth left, and what will Bella say to it ? ' 
 ' Ah, what * she says, ' nonsensical things ! 
 Come, we'll dance.' And then we dance 
 down to the chapel ; and there stands the 
 priest beckoning to us, and we dance on, 
 past the priest ; and she's a splendid child 
 with beautiful eyes, and loves me dearly : and 
 so we dance on and on, and I can keep it 
 up very well till I wake, without being 
 tired." 
 
 " Is your cousin Hatty still living ? " 
 
 " x Oh, no ! she died long ago. A few weeks 
 since a grandson of .hers was here with me. 
 But isn't it strange that my first youthful 
 love — I was hardly ten years old — should 
 have awakened in me? And she 'had an 
 apple in her hand, and bit into it, and then 
 said, ' Take a bite too ; ' but, when I wanted 
 to take the apple, she wouldn't let me, and 
 said, 1 Don't bite too much.' And, when I 
 awoke, the taste of the apple seemed still 
 in my mouth. Now it just comes back to 
 me that we were once painted together. The 
 painter declared that it would please us 
 very much some time or other. He did it 
 secretly, and, of course, the picture was 
 bought of him ; I believe it is still in exist- 
 ence ; but I don't know where. Don't you 
 like her name of Hatty ? She is a half- 
 grown girl in a pink calico dress and white 
 apron, and that's the way she was always 
 dressed, and she had a broad Florence straw 
 hat, whose brim drooped down upon her 
 shoulders." So Clodwig went on, and said 
 with a repressed sigh, " Bella has never 
 cared to hear about my youth ; " but then, as 
 if not wishing to speak of her, he quickly 
 added in a trembling voice, stretching out 
 both hands, "Now attend, and I can tell 
 you my story. I have had a very different 
 life from that Herr Sonnenkamp. My 
 father was Prime-Minister, and I was born 
 in the ministerial residence, the son of a 
 late marriage, an only son, like Herr Son- 
 nenkamp ; but my life was different. My 
 father became representative of the Confed- 
 eracy to the German Diet, and tlien I often 
 lived here in summer on our estate. The 
 
THE COUNTEY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 401 
 
 society of the representatives of the Con- j 
 federacy. — who knows whether it is not 
 passing away without any one's having pic- 
 tured it truly, — I might have done it ; even 
 when I was still a student, it was plain to 
 me -that it was a society which exists only 
 to stand in the way of every improvement. 
 Come a little nearer and I will tell you what 
 the German Diet is, — it is the evil con- 
 science of the Princes. I thought so very 
 early, and I was soon sure of it, and yet I 
 stayed in the midst of it ; and the farther I 
 advanced, the more plainly I saw that it was 
 true. All progress has built itself up apart 
 from the Diet ; and there is something like 
 it in the Church. Progress is made without 
 her, aside from her ; she has not done away 
 with capital punishment, nor torture, nor 
 the confinement of prisoners in irons : none 
 of these has she abolished. And now are 
 coming the two great works of emancipa- 
 tion, — the emancipation of the slaves and of 
 the serfs, and what is bringing them about ? 
 Humanity alone in its freedom of action. 
 You see, this Herr Sonnenkamp lived in 
 quite another world than mine, and yet my 
 life, — Ah, wait a minute, wait, I cannot 
 say more now." 
 
 After a while, Clodwig began again, — 
 
 " This Sonnenkamp is another proof to 
 me, our civilization has the same defects 
 as religion ; it also gives no definite moral 
 laws ; it is not a complete, not the true civili- 
 zation." 
 
 He sat up in bed, saying, — 
 
 * Come, I want to say my last word to 
 you. Two things I see looming up in the 
 future ; the one is imperialism, which is 
 trying to establish itself in America ; and 
 the other, yet more terrible, is called a war 
 for religion. One party gathers around 
 Rome ; the other, around no man, no idea, 
 but around freedom. Two great standards 
 are raised, and around these standards 
 gather two armies. Invisibly on the one 
 banner is inscribed, * We cannot ! ' on the 
 other, * We will ! ' 
 
 " Hear yet more. A new faith, a new 
 knowledge is to come, which will re-create 
 the world. We wander continually in a 
 grave-yard, our life is dead. Only a re- 
 newal through a great idea, through a new 
 religion. Ah " — 
 
 He broke off abruptly as Bella entered 
 the room. 
 
 She expressed her satisfaction at Clod- 
 wig's animation, and Clodwig still pre- 
 served a courtly politeness towards his wife. 
 She wanted to hand him some medicine, 
 and he said, — 
 
 " Oh, yes ! give it to me, but do not say 
 
 any thing against Doctor Richard ; please do 
 not." 
 
 Bella sat quietly by the bed for a while ; 
 then Clodwig begged her to go to rest, and 
 she complied. When he was again alone 
 with Eric, he said, — 
 
 " In many painless hours by day and 
 night, I have fancied to myself how the hu- 
 man race of to-day will gather in countless 
 hosts, and press, shoulder to shoulder, up 
 some lofty height, to plant the banner under 
 which they assemble. What watch-word 
 can they inscribe upon it which shall unite 
 them one and all ? Then I saw you ; you 
 were carrying the banner, and on it was 
 your motto, your words which you have 
 spoken, the only motto, Free labor ! That 
 is it. Happy are you that you have said 
 it, and I that I have heard and seen." 
 
 A glorious light rested on Clodwig's coun- 
 tenancej and beamed from his eyes, as he 
 gazed into the empty air ; then he laid back 
 his head, and closed his eyes, but he felt for 
 Eric's hand, and clasped it tight. After 
 a while he raised himself again, saying, — 
 
 " Go into the room that you had when 
 you first came here ; take Robert with you, 
 and bring . the bust of the Victoria here to 
 me." 
 
 Eric went with the servant to the balcony 
 chamber, and had the head of the Victoria 
 taken down ; that of the Medusa lay upon 
 the floor in fragments. He asked Robert 
 who had broken it, but Robert knew noth- 
 ing about it. He hesitated to ask Bella or 
 Clodwig about the matter, but he learned 
 that Clodwig had not been in this room 
 since his return. 
 
 When Eric had placed' the bust opposite 
 the sick man's bed, and arranged the lights 
 properly, Clodwig said, — 
 
 " Yes, it looks like her, your mother 
 knew her too." 
 
 He said nothing more. After he had 
 gazed at the bust for a long time in silence, 
 he asked Eric to call the Banker, and, when 
 he came, he said to him with a child-like 
 smile, — 
 
 " It belongs to you too. There's a story 
 about a little child, very young, I can see 
 him now, dressed only in a little shirt, sit- 
 ting on a cushion on the table, and my 
 mother is holding me, and telling me — 
 I think I can feel the warm breath of her 
 words, as it comes against my breast, she 
 had laid her head on my breast, and she 
 said, 'There was once a child who went into 
 the woods to look for flowers, and he found 
 beautiful red flowers, and picked them ; and 
 then he found beautiful blue flowers, and he 
 threw the pretty red flowers away, and 
 
492 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 gathered the blue ones ; and then he found 
 beautiful yellow ones, and threw away the 
 beautiful blue flowers to gather those; and 
 next he found beautiful white ones ; and he 
 threw the pretty yellow ones away, and 
 picked the white ; and then he came out of 
 the wood, and there was a brook ; and he 
 threw the lovely white flowers into the 
 brook, and had nothing left in his hands.' 
 That is my story, and that is the other one. 
 I understand it now. The nations all came 
 upon the earth, and they held the revelations 
 in their hands,— the red, the blue, the yellow, 
 and the white flowers — and at last they 
 stood with nothing but their empty .Jiands. 
 And then they said, ' It is well.' The empty 
 hands speak, and say, 'Unforced labor shalt 
 thou perform.' Isn't it true, Eric, that I 
 understand what you said when you first 
 came here ? I see you now as you stood 
 under the blossoming apple-tree, and your 
 words came to me like my mother's warni 
 breath on my little breast. And now may 
 you sleep well. Good-night." 
 
 Eric sat by Clodwig's bed, with his hand 
 clasped in his, till at last the grasp relaxed, 
 and the sick man slept. Bella came again, 
 and Pranken with her ; he prayed with the 
 Sister of Mercy for the dangerously sick 
 man, doing it without shyness or display, 
 with unembarrassed air. 
 
 Eric made a sign to Bella to be very 
 quiet. She sat silent for a time, and then 
 withdrew with Pranken. 
 
 Eric struggled with sleep and weariness. 
 The morning dawned, and flooded the cham- 
 ber with its ruddy light. Eric went to the 
 Sister of Mercy, and told her that the long 
 sleep of their patient made him uneasy : he 
 had leaned over him, and could hear no 
 breathing ; but perhaps it was on account of 
 his own exhaustion. 
 
 They went to Clodwig's bed-side, and 
 bent over him — death had come to him in 
 his sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A GOOD CONCLUSION TO A BAD RESULT. 
 
 Eric had Pranken called, and charged 
 him with the duty of informing his sister ; 
 but Pranken insisted that they should let 
 Bella sleep as long as she would, as she 
 needed the strength. So the dawning day 
 grew brighter and brighter, and the Sister of 
 Mercy sat praying by the bedside of him 
 who had fallen asleep. 
 
 Eric went down into the garden, where 
 he met the Banker : he silently gave him 
 his hand, and they walked on together with- 
 
 out speaking. Eric was called in to Bella, 
 who was upon the sofa, weeping. The 
 Sister of Mercy had broken the news to 
 her when she woke. Bella had been with 
 the corpse, and now was mourning loud and 
 immoderately. Eric consoled her, request- 
 ing that she would excuse his absence tor a 
 few hours, as he must see how they all were 
 at the Villa, and would return by evening. 
 He rode homewards. 
 
 At the foot of the mountain, Claus met 
 him with his son, the Cooper ; and the field- 
 guard cried, — 
 
 " Good luck, Herr Captain ! good luck for 
 you ; and you are good luck for us too. 
 We've just bought the Carp Inn for Ferdi- 
 nand. Could there be any thing better? 
 I'm father of an inn." 
 
 Eric hushed him, but could not get in a 
 word ; for Claus exclaimed, — 
 
 " Do you know that now Sevenpiper's 
 going to let his daughter marry Ferdinand ? 
 and it's all owing to you." 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. If the rich Sonnenkamp 
 can let his daughter marry a teacher, 
 Sevenpiper can give his daughter to the 
 Cooper. Isn't that so ? O Herr Captain ! 
 you are a good luck for us all. And here, 
 Herr Captain, here's my hand : I'll drink 
 not a drop more after to-day, except when 
 I'm thirsty : mayn't I quench my thirst ? 
 Thank heaven, I've got a very good thirst. 
 But at the wedding I'll have a time 
 of it ; for nobody can go it like the 
 Screamer. Come along with me, Herr 
 Captain, put up your horse, we've a good 
 stable, it's a first-rate inn." 
 
 Eric could not reconcile the contradic- 
 tion : he comes from a death-bed into the 
 very midst of jollity. He told Claus noth- 
 ing of Clodwig's decease, and only begged 
 to be allowed to ride on, and so left them. 
 
 He reached Villa Eden. 
 
 " Has Bella any female friend with her," 
 the Professorin asked, as soon as she 
 learned of Clodwig's death. 
 
 Eric said that she had not. It was pain- 
 ful to the Professorin that she could not 
 render any assistance and consolation to 
 Bella. Bella had triumphed in the fact, 
 that, self-contained, she had been more 
 feared than loved by women ; and now, in 
 her time of affliction, she had no one whose 
 right and dutiful privilege it was to come 
 to her, that she might lay her head, weighed 
 down with sorrow and tears, upon a friend- 
 ly bosom. But Aunt Claudine said to 
 Eric, — 
 
 " When you drive to Wolfsgarten • again, 
 take me with you." 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 493 
 
 Manna begged Eric to rest ; but Eric saw 
 that there was no rest for him, for he re- 
 ceived very soon a note from Bella by a 
 messenger, in which were these words, writ- 
 ten in great haste, — 
 
 " You must come immediately to bear 
 witness for me. I am ruined and dis- 
 graced." 
 
 Eric drove to Wolfsgarten. Aunt Clau- 
 dine accompanied him, and Professor Ein- 
 siedel had offered his services also; but the 
 Mother and Manna urged him to remain 
 with them. The Professor was a consola- 
 tion and a quiet support for them at the 
 Villa. Eric promised to return that night. 
 What can have happened at Wolfsgarten 
 in these few hours since Clodwig's death ? 
 
 They came to Wolfsgarten. The ser- 
 vants stood around, and looked shyly at 
 Eric ; one of them saying, — Eric heard it 
 very distinctly, — 
 
 " Who knows whether he has not helped 
 do it ? " 
 
 The Sister of Mercy came to meet Eric, 
 and said to him hurriedly, — 
 
 " A horrible thing has happened. The 
 layer-oat of the corpse, in removing the 
 clothes, found a wound upon the Count's 
 neck, and has called the coroner : now it is 
 said that Count Clodwig was strangled. 
 You were present until the very last breath, 
 you are involved in the most horrible sus- 
 picion. Inconceivable, incomprehensible ! 
 If the Doctor would only come ! We have 
 despatched messengers everywhere for him ; 
 but he is not to be found." 
 
 Bella had heard of Eric's arrival, and 
 pulled incessantly at the bell : she desired 
 that he would come to her. Eric requested 
 Aunt Claudine to remain in the lower room, 
 where the Banker was still sitting quietly, 
 and went with the Sister of Mercy to Bella. 
 
 " Leave us .alone together for a moment," 
 begged Bella. " No, that would excite 
 suspicion. Remain." — " Foh ! suspicion ! " 
 shrieked Bella. " You men are all hypo- 
 crites. Let the world say what it will, 
 Have us alone. Every thing is a lie, and 
 he was a liar too." 
 
 Eric was alone with Bella who said, — 
 
 " I have received a punishment more 
 horrible than the most cunning Devil could 
 ever have contrived. Herr Dournay, it is 
 said that I, Bella Pranken, have strangled 
 my husband, — I have sacrificed my life to 
 be now suspected of this ! Here I stand : 
 whatever I have done, whatever I have 
 thought, now is it a thousand-fold atoned 
 for. And I curse it that I have been 
 faithful. He wore the picture of another 
 
 woman on his heart until his heart ceased* 
 to beat." 
 
 " The Doctor is here," was suddenly 
 called outside. 
 
 The Doctor and Pranken entered; and 
 the Doctor said, — 
 
 " I know the whole. This blockhead of 
 a coroner ! Every ignorant person knows 
 that a wound on a corpse is a very different 
 thing from one on a living body. There is 
 only a trifling mark, a little abrasion of 
 the skin on the Count's neck. Can't you 
 tell me what made this ? " 
 
 Bella now narrated that Robert had come 
 to ask her whether they should leave the 
 picture, which the Count wore on his heart, 
 to be buried with him. She asked what 
 sort of a picture it was, and was told that 
 it was that of a lady. Hurrying there in 
 her excitement, which she now lamented, 
 she had snatched from the corpse the pic- 
 ture which was hung by a small cord about 
 the neck. 
 
 " It was the miniature of his deceased 
 wife : here it is," said she. She pointed to 
 a gentle face, on a thin plate of gold. 
 
 The Doctor and Eric looked at the pic- 
 ture, and then at Bella. Eric thought to 
 himself, " This was why he had the bust of 
 the Victoria brought to his bedside. Won- 
 derful likeness ! " 
 
 The Doctor said that they must not make 
 known publicly this passionate act of the 
 Countess as the occasion of the coroner's 
 mistake. He begged them to fall in with 
 his explanation, that some of the caustic 
 medicine which the invalid had taken had 
 dropped down about the string, and caused 
 this abrasion. 
 
 To his horror, Eric now recollected that 
 Clodwig had exhorted him to take some- 
 thing from his bosom after he was dead. 
 He told of this now ; and the Doctor and 
 Bella shook their heads. 
 
 The Doctor requested Bella, Eric, 
 Pranken, the Banker, and the Sister of 
 Mercy to go with . him into the chamber of 
 death. He had all the servants called, and 
 rebuked the coroner sharply, pointing out 
 to him that only the outer skin had been 
 reddened by a caustic medicine. 
 
 Eric cast one more look at the dead 
 body of his friend. Even the statue of the 
 Victoria, that stood opposite, seemed to look 
 in sorrow upon it. 
 
 The gentlemen led Bella back into her 
 chamber. Aunt Claudine entered. Bella 
 extended her left hand to her, while with 
 the right she held a handkerchief pressed 
 to her face. The gentlemen went down to 
 
 i 
 
404 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 "receive the Kind's private physician, whose 
 carriage was just driving into the court. 
 Doctor Richard staged in few words the 
 cause of Clodwig's death, which was the 
 result of a cold, together with great mental 
 excitement. They then all repaired to the 
 room looking on the garden, whither Doc- 
 tor Richard ordered wine to be brought, and 
 insisted on Eric's drinking with them, as he 
 would need to use every means to keep up 
 his strength. 
 
 " Drink," he said, " you cannot do with- 
 out it. Great demands are making upon 
 you now, and the machine must be ted with 
 wine." 
 
 Eric drank, but he drank a tear with the 
 wine ; for tears fell from his eyes into the 
 glass. He left the room for a moment, and 
 returned with a little box in which, he said, 
 were Clod wig's orders, which his friend had 
 commissioned him to return to the Prince. 
 As his presence was necessary now at the 
 Villa, he requested the court-physician to 
 undertake the commission for him ; to which 
 he readily assented, adding, that in Clodwig 
 a nobleman had been taken away, whose 
 memory was a source of strength to them 
 all : the moderation and perfect balance 
 of his nature, his repose and gentleness, 
 were characteristics which belonged to a 
 generation that was passing away. 
 
 Doctor Richard, who was sitting in an 
 arm-chair, with his legs crossed one over the 
 other, exclaimed, — 
 
 " All that is true : the expression, ' He 
 was too noble for this world,' might be 
 used with truth of him. He had the ad- 
 vantage, or the disadvantage, of viewing 
 every individual thing in its connection with 
 humanity ; and, as to the thing itself, it was 
 a matter of perfect indifference to him, 
 whether it was done to-day or to-morrow, 
 by you or anybody else. He might have 
 accomplished great things, have exerted a 
 wide-spread influence ; but the task seemed 
 to him too hard, and he excused himself 
 from it. Every event, every experience, was 
 made subservient to the development of 
 his beautiful character. Good, beautiful, 
 lofty, but a childless, barren existence is 
 that, whose mother is a philosophy which 
 accepts all things, comprehends all things, 
 only to reduce them afterwards to a system. 
 I have often reproached him with that 
 while he lived ; and I venture to do the 
 same now that he is dead." 
 
 " He repeated to me once an expression 
 of yours, Captain Dournay," said the 
 Banker. " You once said to him, ' Man 
 has to do railway duty on the earth ; ' and 
 the words made a great impression on him. 
 
 So it is, we all have to act more or less 
 as guards on the swiftly-rolling train of our 
 generation ; but it is not every one who is 
 fitted for the post." 
 
 There was much that Eric wanted to 
 say, and he might have explained many 
 points ; for what had Clodwig not dis- 
 cussed with him ? But he had no chance to 
 speak ; for the doctor cried, — 
 
 " I do not believe that I am inclined to 
 find fault with this man. Of all in the wide 
 world who will hear of his death, and mourn 
 for him, not one respected him more 
 than I." 
 
 Some reference was made to the horrible 
 suspicion which had fallen upon Bella ; but 
 the Doctor repeated emphatically that this 
 was a monstrous mistake, and heartily re- 
 gretted that nothing could be done to ef- 
 face all remembrance of it ; for men would 
 always hold fast to such a calumny, at 
 least, they would not wholly forget it. 
 
 Pranken entered with a clergyman of 
 the neighborhood, who finally consented, 
 after much persuasion on the part of Pran- 
 ken and the royal physician, to pronounce 
 a benediction over the body. 
 
 The Doctor presently drove off with the 
 Court-physician : and, soon afterward, Eric 
 also departed, with the Banker and Aunt 
 Claudine ; for Bella had requested to be 
 left alone. 
 
 They looked back sorrowfully at the 
 mansion, from whose summit a black flag 
 was now waving. 
 
 For two days, Clodwig's body lay upon 
 satin cushions in the great drawing-room, 
 exposed to the public gaze. His counte- 
 nance was peaceful. He was surrounded 
 by palms and flowers, and candles burned 
 at the side of the coffin. 
 
 People from the whole country round 
 flocked to take a last look, at Clodwig; 
 some from respect, and some from curiosity. 
 Bella could hear them say as they left the 
 house, " He shows no signs of having 
 been strangled." 
 
 On the third day, Eric, the Justice, the 
 Banker, the Major, the chief men of the 
 city, besides an ambassador from the King, 
 and several high officers of state, followed 
 Clodwig's body to the tomb of the Wolfs- 
 gartens. 
 
 The bells rang from mountain and val- 
 ley : it was the funeral of the last of the 
 Wolfsgartens. 
 
 Sonnenkamp had meant to make one 
 of the funeral-procession : he had actually 
 started for Wolfsgarten ; but he was not 
 to be seen among the mourners. 
 
 The Major said to Eric that Sonnen- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 495 
 
 kamp was right not to be present : he 
 would have attracted too much attention ; 
 and have destroyed the solemnity of the 
 occasion. 
 
 Sonnenkamp spent the whole day in the 
 village inn near by. He knew that, wher- 
 ever he showed himself, he would excite 
 curiosity and horror, and hid himself as 
 well as he could, behind a large newspaper, 
 which he pretended to be reading. He 
 could hear the talk of the men in the pub- 
 lic room without ; and the chief speaker 
 among them was a Jew, a cattle-dealer, who 
 said, — 
 
 " That Herr Sonnenkamp never gave us 
 a chance to earn any thing. Very fine of 
 him, wonderfully fine ! What ill report has 
 not been circulated of us Jews ! But we 
 never trafficked in slaves ! * 
 
 The conversation, however, soon took a 
 different turn ; and they spoke of the re- 
 port of the Countess having murdered her 
 husband, which was true, they said, for 
 all the doctor's maintaining that the red 
 mark about the dead man's throat was 
 caused by a little cord on which he always 
 wore the picture of his first wife. 
 
 A sudden light flashed into Sonnen- 
 kamp's face at hearing this charge against 
 Bella thus insisted upon. If any thing could 
 drive her to a decision, it was this. Bella's 
 indignation at the suspicion must be favor- 
 able to his plans. "The chief thing," he 
 said to himself, " will be to get her to dis- 
 cuss the matter : the moment she does that, 
 she is won." 
 
 Finally. Lootz returned, whom Sonnen- 
 kamp had sent to gain intelligence of every 
 thing that was going on. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 AWAY UNDER FIERY RAIN ! 
 
 A damp, autumnal fog penetrated Clod- 
 wig's sick-room through the open windows, 
 and lay in drops on the brow of the statue 
 of Victor}-. 
 
 Still and desolate it was at Wolfsgarten : 
 even Pranken had gone. 
 
 Bella sat in her room enveloped in her 
 mourning weeds. Shcliad black bracelets 
 on her wrists, and had just been trying on 
 her black gloves. She drew them off now, 
 laid her hands together, and gazed with 
 that terrible Medusa look into vacancy, 
 into the future, into the great blank. " You 
 are alone," said a voice within her ; " you 
 were always alone in yourself, in the world, 
 
 — a solitary nature ; lonely as wife, always 
 alone." 
 
 Once more her cheeks flamed with sudden 
 rage to think that any one, the veriest fool, 
 could for an instant imagine that she had 
 murdered her husband. Was it for this that 
 she had so long crushed every impulse of her 
 heart ? Would the world after all not be- 
 lieve in her happiness ? She went in imagi- 
 nation from house to house of the capital, 
 and heard her name on all tongues. 
 
 The ticking of the clock reminded her 
 of what Ciodwig had once said, "The 
 pendulum of our life vibrates between recol- 
 lections of the past, and desires for the 
 future." — " That was true of him, but not of 
 me : I do not stand between recollection 
 and desire : I want the present. I crave 
 life, ardent life." 
 
 She rose, and was vexed that she could not 
 resist going to her mirror ; but once there 
 she staid, and was still more vexed to see 
 that her figure was not as slender as it used 
 to be ; and yet black makes one look slender. 
 She seemed to have lost all her charms ! 
 Her thoughts went further: since he had 
 to die before you, why could he not have 
 died years ago, while you were still beau- 
 tiful ? She shuddered at the thought, but 
 the next moment commended her own sin- 
 cerity. Further spoke the voice within her, 
 and, proudly raising her head, she said almost 
 aloud to herself, — 
 
 " I care nothing for conventionality. What 
 I may think a year hence, I will think now, 
 to-day. What to me is the world's division 
 of time ? Thoughts that others would have 
 a year hence, I permit myself to-day. Yes ; 
 you are a widow, who will be visited only 
 from compassion, — a widow, with none to 
 stand by her. And then this degrading 
 suspicion ! I can go to the capital ; I can 
 take a house. Oh, what a god-like des- 
 tiny ! I am myself a house, and shall be 
 made lady president of a soup establishment, 
 and shall have a select dozen of orphans 
 in blue aprons come to my funeral. I have 
 had enough of that sort of thing ' already. 
 No ! I cannot live alone. Shall I travel 
 again, seek f'orgetfulness and fancied pleas- 
 ure in landscapes, crowds, works of art. and 
 then talk, laugh, play in society ? I have 
 proved it all vanity, emptiness. Prince 
 Valerian could be won. But could I play 
 the hypocrite again in a strange world, and 
 charitably rejoice that the" Russian peasants 
 are, figuratively, to have their hair curled ? 
 The Wine-cavalier would be very complai- 
 sant, always making his bows, and paving 
 his devotions : it is only manner to be seen, 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 but then the manner is good, agreeable, and 
 — false, the whole of it ! 
 
 " No, no ! I must away into conflict, 
 into war, danger, distress ; but life, mighty, 
 all-absorbing life, I must have. I scorn the 
 whole world ; I hurl back in its face its 
 honors, its caprices of philanthropy." 
 
 A horseman gallops into the court-yard, 
 a tall figure in black. Is it not Sonneu- 
 kamp ? What can he want ? 
 
 Sonnenkamp was announced. 
 
 " He is welcome,* was her answer. 
 
 Sonnenkamp entered. 
 
 " Countess," he said, " I bring back to 
 you what once I received from you, — the 
 courage of a hero." 
 
 " Ah, courage ! I am in humiliation ; 
 deserted, broken, weak." 
 
 " You humiliated deserted, weak ? You 
 kindled in me a strength great enough to 
 defy the world : I am young again, fresh 
 again. Countess, in this bitter and critical 
 hour I come to you, only to you. You alone 
 are now the world to me ; you alone make 
 the world of value to me ; I would gladly 
 give you something, be to you something, 
 that shall make the world seem precious to 
 you again." 
 
 Bella stood motionless, and he continued : 
 
 " Raise yourself above this hour, above 
 this year, above this country, above all con- 
 ventionalities. If it be possible for any 
 human being to do this, you are that one. 
 
 " Bella, I might tell you that I would escape 
 into the- wide world; would sacrifice, destroy 
 everything ruthlessly; put from me wife, 
 children, all, only on condition that you 
 would follow me, that you would dare to 
 turn your back upon every thing, and be a 
 free, independent nature : I might tell you 
 that, and it would be true. But it is not 
 that which should decide you. It is not for 
 me you should live, but for yourself. Bella, 
 we read in old histories of men and women 
 who bound themselves together by a crime : 
 such unions seldom last. I see your soul open 
 before me — no, I have it within me, and 
 speak from it. You say as I do, ' Here I 
 am in conflict with the world. The world 
 requires concern for others, and I have the 
 spirit of egoism ; I am no philanthropist, I 
 am no charitable institution.' You desire, 
 as I do, to assert self; I desire a thing 
 for you, only because I desire it for myself. 
 Others would decoy you, persuade you with 
 honeyed phrases ; I honor you too highly : 
 you have courage to be yourself." 
 
 "I do not understand you. What do 
 you mean ? What do you desire for your- 
 self : what do you desire for me ? " 
 
 " For myself, what have I left to desire ? 
 
 A bullet through my head. But there is one 
 thing which can save me." 
 " What is that?' 
 
 " It is yourself. To show you what great- 
 ness is, to see you great — for that I would 
 still gladly live and fight. If there is such 
 a thing as admiration, as bowing before 
 what is noble, before a world-subduing 
 genius, I " — 
 
 He made a motion, a step forwafrd. Bella 
 regained composure, and said quietly, — 
 
 " Be seated." 
 
 A singular expression passed over his 
 face at the words ; but he seated himself, and 
 continued, — 
 
 " Countess, I know not what plans you 
 may have — yet no : I think I do know 
 your present plans. Do not interrupt me ; 
 let me speak. If I have been mistaken in 
 you, then is my whole life, then are all my 
 thoughts, my efforts, my conflicts, nothing 
 but madness, and the pathetic declaimers 
 of lofty phrases are in the right. Countess 
 Bella, you once said a noble thing to me : 
 ' A resolute nature knows no family, must 
 have no family.' That is my guiding star. 
 1 have no longer a family ; I am nothing in 
 the world but myself; and you — you should 
 be nothing but yourself. You have never 
 been yourself till now ; but now you ought, 
 you can, you must be." 
 
 " I will. You are a wonderful man ; you 
 clear away all the rubbish that clogs my 
 being. ' Speak further ; what do you 
 bring ? " 
 
 "I bring nothing but myself, Countess; 
 I have put away from me all the ties of this 
 world ; I say this to you, to none but you. 
 This very day I depart for the New World. 
 Yes, there is a new world yonder ! " 
 
 Sonnenkamp suddenly rose, and seized 
 her hand. 
 
 " Countess, you are a great woman : 
 yours is a nature born to rule. Come with 
 me, you have the courage for it. There is 
 a throne to be established in the New 
 World ; and upon this throne w r ill I set you 
 as queen. Come ! " 
 
 There was a tone of authority, of com- 
 mand, in Sonnenkamp' s voice, as he grasped 
 her by the hand. She rose ; her lips trem- 
 bled, her eyes sparkled. 
 
 "I thank you,"* she said. "You are 
 great, and you fancy greatness in me. 
 That is it. I thank you. O my friend, 
 we are weak, pitiful creatures. Too late, 
 too late ! Why does such a call come too 
 late ? Ten years ago, I should have had 
 the strength for it ; then it would have 
 tempted me ; I would have risked every 
 thing then, and taken the chance of shame 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 497 
 
 and death ; any thing had been better than 
 this maimed, idle, good-for-nothing, musty, 
 relie-hunting, sickly, sanctimonious — no, 
 I did not mean to say that — and yet — I 
 thank you. You pay me a higher honor 
 than was ever paid me before : you recog- 
 nize what I might have been ; but I cannot 
 be it now. Too late ! " 
 
 " Too late ! " cried Sonnenkamp, seizing 
 both her hands. "Bella, you say, that, if I 
 had come in your youth, you would have 
 gone with me into the wide world. Bella, 
 Countess, we are young so long as we will 
 to be. You are young, and I will be young. 
 "When you came to • me that time in the 
 spring, I gave you a rose,, a centifolium, 
 and said to you, you«are not like this flower. 
 And you are not like it ; for your bloom is 
 fever fresh ; your will, your strength, blos- 
 soms. Be courageous; be yourself; be 
 your own. What are seventy maimed, 
 idle years ? One year full of life is more 
 than they all." 
 
 Bella sank back in her chair, and covered 
 her face with her handkerchief. 
 
 " Why did you appeal to the Court," 
 she said at length, " if you meant to leave 
 before sentence was pronounced ? " 
 
 '• Why ? I thank you for the question. I 
 am free : henceforth I can speak the honest 
 truth, and to you above all others. For a 
 while, I really believed that this would offer 
 me a way of escape. But I soon abandoned 
 that idea, and now " — 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " And now ? " repeated Bella. 
 
 " I wanted to show these puppets, these 
 children who are always giving themselves 
 up to leading-strings which they call reli- 
 gion or morality or politics, — I wanted to 
 show them what a free human being was, 
 an undisguised egoist. That tempted me. 
 When the time came for putting my plan 
 into execution, it was only for your sake 
 that I carried out what I had proposed ; for 
 you only I laid bare my whole life. I 
 J was resolved you should know who I am. 
 I hardly spoke to the men who were before 
 me ; I spoke to you ; behind myself, above 
 myself, I spoke to you, Bella." 
 
 " Were you then already decided not to 
 wait for the sentence ? " 
 
 Sonnenkamp nodded with a smile of tri- 
 umph. There was a long pause. He heftl 
 her hand firmly. At last she asked hesi- 
 tatingly,— 
 
 *' Would not my flight confirm the inju- 
 rious suspicion, the suspicion that Clodwig 
 was " — 
 
 " Fie ! " interrupted Sonnenkamp ; " as if 
 
 it would not have been easier to desert a 
 living husband than to murder him first ! " 
 
 Bella shuddered at the words, and Son- 
 nenkamp exclaimed, — 
 
 " O Bella ! noble soul, alone great among 
 women, cast away all these European casu- 
 istries ; with a single step put this whole, 
 old-maidish Europe behind you ! " 
 
 A still longer pause followed : there was 
 no sound but the screaming of the parrot. 
 
 " When do you start ? " asked Bella. 
 
 " To-night, by the railway." 
 
 " No, by boat. Is no boat going ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; one this very night." 
 
 " I will go with you. But leave me now, 
 leave me. Here is my hand, I go wi;h you." 
 
 She sat motionless, her hands folded, her 
 eyes closed. Sonnenkamp took her hand 
 firmly in his, touched her wedding-ring, and 
 drew it gently from her finger. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " exclaimed Bella 
 in sudden passion. Her eyes were fixed 
 on Sonnenkamp ; she saw the ring in his 
 hand. . 
 
 " Let me keep it as a pledge," he urged. 
 
 " What do you mean ? We are not people 
 to make a scene. Give it to me." 
 
 He gave back the ring ; but she did not 
 return it to her finger. 
 
 That night, a steamer stopped at the little 
 town; there was a storm of wind and rain, 
 and the engine screeched and hissed. On 
 the wharf stood a man wrapped in his 
 cloak, and presently a tall veiled figure 
 passed him. 
 
 " Leave me to myself 1 " the woman said 
 as she hurried by. 
 
 A plank was laid across from the steamer : 
 the woman crossed it, followed by the man. 
 
 The plank was drawn up, the boat turned, 
 and steamed away into the darkness and 
 the storm. No one was on deck except 
 those two figures : the sailors made haste 
 into the cabin The pilot, wrapped in his 
 suit of India-rubber, whistled soitly to him- 
 self as he turned the wheel. 
 
 The tall figure of the woman, muffled in 
 black, stood upon the deck of the steamer 
 as it shot down the stream. Long she stood, 
 abstractedly gazing at the water and the 
 towns and villages on the shore, with here 
 and there a light flashing from the window- 
 panes, and casting a swiftly-vanishing gleam 
 upon the river. A fiery shower, a stream 
 of bright sparks from the chimney, swept 
 over the figure. A hand appeared from 
 under the folds of the cloak ; it held a ring 
 between its fingers for a while, then dropped 
 it into the stream below. 
 
498 
 
 THE COUNTRY- HO USE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 BOOK XIV. CHAPTER I. 
 MANY KINDS OF LOVE. 
 
 The modest little dwelling of the Major 
 became once more the place where all sought 
 rest and found it. 
 
 As Eric had first gone to the Major to 
 tell him of his happiness, so the Cooper 
 also, and his betrothed, first sought the 
 Major and Fräulein Milch, to tell their 
 new-found joy. 
 
 Here they met Knopf, who was an especial 
 favorite with Fräulein Milch, because he 
 had a faculty for being taken care of ; and 
 besides he had brought her a great many 
 books in former days, and instructed her 
 in many things/ He must always be the 
 young ladies' school-teacher, even with 
 Fräulein Milch. 
 
 When Knopf heard of Eric's betrothal 
 with Manna, lie said, — 
 
 " That is the way ! It is the old story 
 over again, — the story of the maiden freed 
 from enchantment, which is a great favorite 
 here on the Rhine. This is a new version 
 of it. Only a youth as pure as Dournay 
 could have set the pure virgin free." 
 
 He spoke in a kind of low, dreamy mys- 
 terious tone, which so touched the Major's 
 heart, that he fell upon the speaker's neck, 
 embraced and kissed him, and cried, — 
 
 " You must enter our society. You must 
 speak so there. That is the place for you." 
 
 Knopf had come to fulfil Weidmann's 
 commission, and to make some inquiries of 
 Eric about the black man Adams. When 
 the Cooper and his betrothed entered, and 
 the Major gave them his blessing, and 
 Fräulein Milch brought in a bottle of wine, 
 Knopf was the merriest of the company. 
 He could not fully say what was in his 
 heart ; but he laid his hand on the tablets 
 in his breast-pocket, which meant, " Here is 
 another beautiful romance for me to write 
 down. Ah, how beautiful the world is ! " 
 
 Into the midst of this joyful company 
 came the tidings of Sonnenkamp's flight. 
 
 " And we have not yet passed sentence 
 upon him ! " cried the Major. 
 
 Fräulein Milch smiled knowingly at the 
 Major, as much as to say, " Did I not tell 
 you he was making fools of you ? " 
 
 Without waiting to finish their wine, the 
 Major and Knopf hurried to the Villa. 
 
 Eric was busy with the notary, and they 
 had to wait some time before they could 
 speak with him. 
 
 The notary had brought Eric a paper in 
 Sonnenkamp's handwriting, which declared 
 that he had taken with him all the property 
 
 made in slave-traffic ; he appointed Weid- 
 mann and Eric guardians of his children, 
 and arranged for Roland's being declared of 
 age in the spring. 
 
 Another messenger came from Weid- 
 mann bringing the good news, that, accord- 
 ing to a letter just received from Doctor 
 Fritz, Abraham Lincoln had been elected 
 President. 
 
 The thought passed through Eric's mind, 
 that there might be some connection be- 
 tween this event and Sonnenkamp's flight. 
 
 He had no time to dwell upon the idea, 
 for immediately after Weidmann's messen- 
 ger had been admitted, the Major and 
 Knopf entered. 
 
 News followed hard Yipon news. A tele- 
 gram arrived, desiring Eric to go to the city 
 and wait at the telegraph-office, as some 
 one wished to communicate with him. The 
 despatch was signed, " The Man from 
 Eden." 
 
 Eric requested the Major to stay with his 
 mother and send for Fräulein Milch to join 
 him ; at the same time he begged Knopf to 
 bring Roland home, and prepare him as 
 gently as he could for what had happened. 
 
 From every side, fresh difficulties poured 
 in upon Eric. How every thing had come 
 together ! Clodwig's death, Sonnenkamp's 
 flight, the fate of Poland, the fate of Manna 
 — all weighed upon his heart. 
 
 As he was mounting his horse, he fortu- 
 nately descried Professor Einsiedel, to whom 
 he told in a few words what had happened, 
 and begged him to stay with Manna. 
 
 He rode to the city. A despatch awaited 
 him, telling that in an hour he should re- 
 ceive some definite tidings. 
 
 This suspense was most trying to Eric : 
 he knew not what steps he should take 
 next. 
 
 He walked through the city : everywhere 
 were men and women safe in the privacy of 
 their homes, while he and his seemed cast 
 out into the street. He lingered long be- 
 fore the Justice's house. Lina was singing 
 her favorite song from " Figaro ; " and the 
 words, " that I with roses may garland thy 
 head," were given so feelingly, with so much 
 suppressed emotion, that Eric's breath came 
 hard as he listened. He knew just how it 
 looked up there in the sitting-room. The 
 Architect was leaning back in the red arm- • 
 chair, while his betrothed sang to him ; 
 flowers were blooming in the window ; and 
 the whole atmosphere was rich with music 
 and perfume. 
 
 Unwilling to disturb their comfort by his 
 heavy thoughts, he returned to the tele- 
 graph-station, and left word that he should 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 409 
 
 be sent for at the hotel if any despatch 
 came lor him. 
 
 He sat alone in a dark corner and waited. 
 The , guests were gathered about the long 
 tableNvith their glasses of beer before them. 
 Their talk was dry, and seemed to make 
 the liquor the more refreshing. Eric forced 
 himself to listen to their chat. They talked 
 of Paris, of London, of America; one man 
 was going to one place, another to another, 
 a third was coming back: the free, mobile 
 character of the Rhineland people was 
 spread out before him ; they live as if al- 
 ways floating on their native stream. 
 
 Suddenly the cry was raised, — 
 
 " Hurrah ! here comes the story-teller." 
 
 Eric recognized the man who had been a 
 great favorite with all ever since he had 
 spent his first night in the city, at the 
 Doctor's house. He had one of those faces, 
 red with constant drinking, whose color 
 makes it impossible to distinguish any age 
 short of forty, and his countenance was as 
 mobile as if made of gutta-percha. 
 
 The new-comer winked to the bar-maid, 
 who knew what kind of liquor he drank ; 
 then he established himself comfortably in 
 a chair, threw open his wraps, and drew 
 some cigar-ends out of his pocket. 
 
 " What's the news ? " asked the guests. 
 
 The man gave the usual answer : " Fair 
 weather, and nothing beside." 
 
 " Where have you been for these three 
 days, that we have seen nothing of you ? " 
 
 " Where a man can prolong his life." 
 
 " What sort of a place is that ? " ' 
 
 " I have been in the dullnesses of the 
 capital : and there you can prolong your 
 life ; for every day is as long as two." 
 
 " Old, old ! " cried the drinkers. " Give 
 us something new ! " 
 
 " Something new ! I tell you many lies 
 have no truth in them, and those often the 
 best. But go out among the boats yonder ; 
 there's a jolly life going on in the cabin. 
 Each one brings his own cook-book to the 
 wedding, and then they marry the messes 
 together." 
 
 The speaker was ridiculed on all sides 
 for having nothing but such nonsense, such 
 dry husks, to give them. 
 
 " If you will keep quiet, I will tell you a 
 story ; but first, one of you must go out to 
 the Rhine, that he may be able to bear me 
 witness afterwards that my story is true, 
 as the old forester says." • 
 
 A cooper was sent out to the boat that 
 lay at anchor in the Rhine, and, after letting 
 him know what he was to inquire about, 
 the man began, — 
 
 " I do have the luck of falling in with 
 
 the best stories ! they come without my 
 looking for them." 
 
 " Let us hear ! let us hear ! Is it about 
 that big Sonnenkamp, or about the hand-' 
 some Countess ? " 
 
 " Ah, bah ! that would be stale : this is 
 one fresh from the oven. It is called the 
 loves of the ' Lorelei ' and the ' Beethoven,' 
 or a sucking pig as matchmaker. Oh, 
 yes ! you may laugh, but you will see that it 
 is all true. To begin, then. You know 
 the steward of the ' Lorelei ? ' — the great 
 Multiplication-table they call him. A 
 man of standing he is, and an honest one, 
 too ; for he honestly confesses, that, by a 
 skilful adding up of accounts, he has added 
 together a pretty little property for himself. 
 Now, he is single, frightfully so. He can 
 eat and drink, but " — 
 
 " Yes, yes ; we know him. What next ? " 
 
 " Don't interrupt me. I must not antici- 
 pate my story : it is enough for me if I 
 know it myself. So, then, the state of the 
 case is this : the captain of the ' Lorelei,' 
 you know him, that tall Baumlange, he was 
 steersman on board the ' Adolph ' for some 
 years ; he managed to make his cook's 
 mouth water for the stewardess of the ' Bee- 
 thoven,' a round, dainty little body, and 
 two years a widow. Greetings were ex- 
 changed between the paper cap and the 
 muslin ; but they never spoke together ex- 
 cept lor a few minutes a fortnight ago at 
 Cologne, when the 'Lorelei' and the 
 ' Beethoven ' lay side by side. Since that 
 time, the great Multiplication-table smiled 
 graciously upon the 1 Lorelei,' but would 
 not hear of marriage. His great delight is 
 to get up a nice little dish that no one 
 should know any thing about ; and so one day 
 he prepared a neat little sucking-pig, that 
 was to be roasted on the morrow. Now, his 
 captain knew, that the next day, and that 
 is to-day, the two boats would anchor here 
 together for the night : so he steals the pig, 
 and hands it to a fellow-captain, who, in turn, 
 delivers it to the widow of the ' Beethoven,' 
 with directions to serve it up nicely, and 
 something else with it, which order she 
 obeys with a good will. Then the Captain 
 invites his steward to supper on board the 
 ' Beethoven ; ' and, since the stewardess has 
 furnished the meat, it was but fair that the 
 ' Lorelei ' Multiplication-table should add 
 the wine. They sit down to supper on 
 board the ' Beethoven,' the stewardess of 
 course, with them, and all goes on merrily. 
 The Multiplication-table said a pig could 
 not be better served, and that it was almost 
 as fine a one as his. Then the trick came 
 out ; but they took it in good part, and the 
 
500 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 upshot of it all was, that the two were be- 
 trothed over the little pig." 
 
 The story-teller had got thus far in his 
 tale, when the cooper returned with the 
 Captain of the 4 Lorelei,' who confirmed 
 the whole history. The merriment became 
 noisy and riotous; and the Captain told 
 how the newly-betrothed couple were 
 sitting together, and how the same tastes 
 were in both of them. They collected all 
 the gold they could in the summer, and now 
 they were sitting and laughing together as 
 they polished it up with soap-suds. 
 
 Eric listened to it all as if he were in 
 another world. There are still those, then, 
 who can take life lightly : a change for the 
 better must come in time. 
 
 Now the pilot entered, who, as custom 
 required, had been taken on board the 
 steamer for a little while, to steer it through 
 the part of the stream he was familiar with. 
 He amazed the company by telling them 
 that, the night before, in the storm, the 
 Countess von Wolfsgarten and Herr Son- 
 nenkamp had gone down the river : he had 
 recognized them both distinctly. 
 
 Eric had risen from his seat to question 
 the man further, when he was summoned to 
 the telegraph station. The despatch, which 
 was signed, like the first, " the man from 
 Eden," was to the effect that the writer 
 was to sail the next morning for the New 
 World, and that if, in the course of a year, 
 no further tidings were received from him, 
 he might be considered dead. It almost 
 seemed as if the last part of the telegram 
 could not have been correctly written ; for 
 the question was asked, whether Frau 
 Ceres was living, and in what condition. 
 In case of wishing to send any news of her 
 to the New World, the name of a Southern 
 paper was given, in which a paragraph 
 should be inserted over the initials S. B. 
 
 While Eric was still holding the despatch 
 in his hand, Pranken entered, and signed to 
 him to come into an adjoining room. "I 
 was in search of you," he said. He looked 
 pale and agitated, and Eric was fully pre- 
 . pared to receive a challenge. His first 
 question, however, was, whether Eric knew 
 whither Sonnenkamp had fled, and how he 
 could be addressed. Eric replied that he 
 was not at liberty to answer that question. 
 
 "Ask him then whether" — he could 
 hardly bring his lips to utter what he had 
 to say, — " ask him whether there is any- 
 one with him. No, better still, give me 
 his address." 
 
 Eric repeated that he was not at liberty 
 to do so. Pranken gnashed his teeth with 
 rage. 
 
 " Very well : ask him yourself, then, 
 whether any one is with him about whom I 
 have a right to inquire." ^~ 
 
 As the two stood side by side, looking 
 out upon the landscape, it suddenly flashed 
 through Eric's mind, that in this very room, 
 at a table before this window, they had sat 
 together that day over their new wine. 
 Prompted by the feeling of gratitude that 
 overpowered him, he said, — 
 
 " I regret sincerely that there should be 
 such ill feeling between us." 
 
 " This is no time to speak of that — of 
 that presently. If you will — no, I will 
 ask no favors. You are to blame for all 
 this wretched complication : you have made 
 every one go wrong. This would never 
 have happened but for you." 
 
 A cold shudder passed through Eric's 
 frame. Was he in truth to blame for 
 Bella's fall? There was an expression of 
 humility in his face as he answered, — 
 
 " I am at your service ; I am only waiting 
 for a despatch." 
 
 " Good : I will wait with you." 
 
 Pranken left the room, and walked rest- 
 lessly up and down the embankment with- 
 out, until the despatch arrived, and Eric 
 summoned him. 
 
 '* Very well : now put my question." 
 
 " Will you repeat your question to me 
 once more exactly ? " 
 
 " How long since you became so slow of 
 comprehension? This then, Tell Herr 
 Sonnenkamp, or Banfield, that if, before 
 twelve hours are over, he does not let me 
 know where he is, I shall take his silence as 
 a proof that — No ! ask — outright — 
 whether my sister is with him." 
 
 Pranken's lips trembled : he had grown 
 sadly old in these few days. Here he was 
 obliged to stand and beg for information 
 from Sonnenkamp ; information on what a 
 subject, and at whose bands ! 
 
 " Will you have the goodness," he added, 
 " to send the answer to me at the parson- 
 age ? " 
 
 He left the room, mounted his horse, and 
 rode away. 
 
 " Medusa sends greeting to Europe," was 
 the answer Eric received. 
 
 As he was about to start for home, the 
 Doctor came up : he also had heard of 
 Bella's flight, 
 
 " That is a master-piece ! " he cried. 
 " Herr Sonnenkamp, with the most skilful 
 diplomacy, could have done nothing better 
 than that. Bella's flight and fall will 
 eclipse every thing that he himself has 
 done. This will divert tongues from him : 
 all is eclipsed by this new development. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 501 
 
 His children, too, -will be freed from the old I 
 scandal - r for the fact of Bella Pranken's 
 eloping with him will count for more than 
 years of selling slaves. From this time we 
 shall hear of nothing but that: all else is 
 obliterated." 
 
 Eric did not believe that the fugitives 
 had yet started for America. 
 
 Immediately on his return to the Villa, 
 he was summoned to Manna. 
 
 " Have you news of him ? " she said. 
 " Is he living ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Is he alone ? " 
 " No." 
 
 " That, too, must we have to bear ! " 
 
 " Does your mother know ? " 
 
 " She only knows that father has fled ; 
 and she keeps crying, ' Henry, Henry, 
 come back ! ' For hours, she has kept saying 
 those words over and over. It is incredible 
 how her strength holds out. O Eric ! when 
 we were in your father's library, Roland 
 said, ' In all these books is there a fate to 
 compare with ours ? ' " 
 
 All Eric's attempts to soothe her were 
 fruitless. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE CHILDREN OF MAMMON. 
 
 Roland arrived, and Herr Weidmann 
 with him. He had heard of his father's 
 flight, but not of Bella's. A great change had 
 come over the boy in these four days, espe- 
 cially in the lines about his mouth : its 
 childish expression had changed into one 
 of pride and sadness, and his whole charac- 
 ter had gained in firmness. He went 
 directly to his mother, who had not once 
 paused in her cry of, " Henry, Henry, 
 come back ! Henry, I will give you my 
 ornaments : come back ! " 
 
 She appeared not to have noticed Ro- 
 land's absence, and showed no surprise now 
 at seeing him. She only said, — 
 
 " Your father will soon come back : he is 
 only gone for a vessel, a great vessel ; he 
 sits at the helm, he guides " — 
 
 For the first time in his life, Roland was 
 friendly and affectionate to Fräulein Perini, 
 and thanked her warmly for her fidelity to 
 his mother. 
 
 Fräulein Perini replied, that she was 
 sure the young master would treat her 
 kindly, and not forget her services. Roland 
 hardly understood her meaning. 
 
 He went to Manna, he went to the Pro- 
 fessorin, and had for every one a word of 
 encouragement. . 
 
 The notary came, and, on being asked if 
 he had received any further news, answered 
 hesitatingly, and fell back upon his power 
 of attorney. 
 
 Roland, Manna, Eric, and Weidmann 
 were summoned into the great hall ; and, 
 as they entered the room which his father 
 had left, Roland for the first time shed 
 tears, and threw himself on his sister's neck. 
 But he quickly recovered his composure. 
 
 The lawyer told them that he knew the 
 secret of opening the great fire-proof safe 
 that was built into the wall on one side of 
 the room. The keys lay in the writing- 
 desk, and the mysterious word which the 
 letters must be made to spell before the 
 keys would turn the locks, was Manna. 
 
 " My name ! " cried Manna, more touched 
 than she could tell at. her father's thus 
 opening the rich treasures of his wealth with 
 her name. To the notary's amazement, she 
 grasped Eric's hand. 
 
 A strange chill spread through the room 
 as the great safe was opened. 
 
 On the top lay a little box labelled, " My 
 last will and testament." They opened it. 
 A sealed paper lay in it on which was writ- 
 ten, " To be opened immediately after my 
 death." These words, however, had been 
 erased, and beneath them was written, " To 
 be opened six months after my disappear- 
 ance. 
 
 Every thing was in perfect order. In dif- 
 ferent compartments lay the notes of hand, 
 state bonds of all the countries in Europe, 
 and more still of America, deeds of mining 
 companies and of various banking-houses ; 
 there were papers of every sort and color : 
 all the shades of the rainbow were repre- 
 sented. 
 
 Roland and Manna hardly heard tile 
 great sums that were named. They fixed 
 their eyes with the curiosity of children upon 
 separate valuable documents as they were 
 taken out. That is money then — 
 
 Manna turned to Eric, with a timid en- 
 treaty that he would do and say in her 
 place all that was necessary: she felt her 
 head growing dizzy. 
 
 Eric replied, that he hoped she would not 
 have the affectation of those persons who 
 receive thoughtlessly the burden of great 
 wealth without being willing to learn their 
 own position in the world. 
 
 " I do not understand," said Manna. In 
 view of all these great possessions she ad- 
 dressed him for the first time by the famil- 
 iar German " Thou " in the presence of 
 others. 
 
 "You will soon learn to understand it. 
 We are children of the actual world ; and, 
 
502 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 if we cannot preserve our ideality in the 
 midst of the actual world, we have no ideal- 
 ity. We will learn together to use aright 
 this immense wealth. This is the first time, 
 too, that I ever saw such a vast amount." 
 
 " It is a great thought that the whole 
 world is made up of debtors and creditors," 
 exclaimed Roland. 
 
 Still greater was the amazement of the 
 children when the lower drawer was opened, 
 which, being on casters, was easily drawn 
 out in spite of its great weight. 
 
 Here lay piles of gold from the mint, and 
 gold in bars. 
 
 Roland and Manna involuntarily knelt 
 down, like little children, and felt of it. 
 After the notary had sat down to his writ- 
 ing in the adjoining room, and Eric and 
 Weidmann had been called away, they re- 
 mained still upon the floor, gazing wonder- 
 ingly at the gold and then in one another's 
 faces. Manna was the first to recover her 
 voice. 
 
 " Afe we not like the children who lost 
 their way in the wood, and stumbled upon 
 hidden treasure ? But" — 
 
 She could not finish her sentence ; for 
 what she wanted to say was, " an evil spirit 
 guards the gold." 
 
 " Come," said Roland, " lay your hand 
 here on mine and on the gold. This gold 
 shall do good, only good, and always good, 
 and shall make amends for the past. We 
 swear it." 
 
 " Yes, we swear it," repeated Manna. 
 " Ah ! if only our father may not have to be 
 suffering want out in the world, while we 
 here have all things in abundance. Perhaps 
 he is seeking a shelter; while these luxurious 
 rooms are his own. Oh ! why do men strive 
 for riches, and sell their own brothers ? O 
 God, why dost thou suffer it? Take all 
 that we have, and drive the iniquity out of 
 the world." 
 
 The girl's tears fell upon the gleaming 
 gold. Roland soothed her, and laid her 
 head on his breast ; and so the two children 
 knelt in silence before the glittering gold. 
 
 " Now we have had enough of this," said 
 Roland at last. " We must be strong : we 
 have great duties before us." 
 
 Almost with an angry hand, he pushed in 
 the heavy drawer ; and as they rose to their 
 feet, while the boy still had hold of the door 
 of the great safe to shut it, the Major, 
 Knopf, and the negro Adams, entered. 
 
 For a moment, Roland and Manna stood 
 motionless : then Roland ran up to the 
 black man, embraced him, and exclaimed 
 with a k>ud cry, — 
 
 I tt Let this make atonement to your whole 
 I race, to all your brothers ! Come, Manna ; 
 
 give him your hand, embrace him : we owe 
 
 it to him." 
 
 Manna approached, but with difficulty 
 . held out her hand to him ; she trembled as 
 she did it. 
 
 Adams held her hand long and firmly ; 
 and a shiver, a shudder, which made her 
 blood stand still, shot through her whole 
 frame. 
 
 With a great effort she controlled her- 
 self, and said in English, she hardly knew 
 why, — 
 
 " We welcome you as a brother." 
 
 " Yes," cried Roland, " you shall counsel 
 us, you shall help us, we will do every thing 
 through you." 
 
 Manna whispered to Roland that they 
 would give Adams at once a handsome sum 
 of money ; but Roland explained, that, al- 
 though they must undoubtedly provide gen- 
 erously for Adams, it would be better first 
 to find out if he understood the proper use 
 of money. 
 
 Manna looked at her brother in wonder. 
 
 The notary now came from the adjoining 
 room. Eric and Weidmann returned, and 
 signed a receipt for the whole amount. 
 
 Eric now learned for the first time that 
 Roland had insisted on Adams being 
 brought. Knopf said in an aside to Eric, 
 that he might be proud of the boy : there 
 was great strength of character in him. He 
 had repeatedly said that he must show he 
 felt no hatred towards the innocent cause 
 of this great calamity, and that, instead of 
 persecuting the negro, he was bound to show 
 him kindness. • 
 
 Weidmann urged Adams's immediate 
 departure from the Villa, fearing the effect 
 that a chance meeting with him might have 
 upon Frau Ceres, associated as his appear- 
 ance would be with recollections of her 
 home. He advised the man's going with 
 him to Mattenheim : but Roland begged 
 that Adams might be allowed to remain till 
 he himself went back to Mattenheim ; and 
 the Major joyfully agreed to take him home 
 with him. 
 
 Eric was incensed that Knopf should 
 have brought Adams at all ; but Knopf told 
 how he had met the negro on the way to 
 the Villa, and, with an air of triumph, went 
 on to tell what a model of knavery the fel- 
 low was. He had devised a plan for going 
 to Sonnenkamp, openly expressing repent- 
 ance for his deed, and offering to appear 
 as a false witness, on condition of being 
 handsomely paid for it. He was beside 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 503 
 
 himself, therefore, when he learned that 
 Sonnenkanip had fled, and his false testi- 
 mony was of no value. 
 
 An important consultation took place in 
 Sonneukamp's room, upon the subject of a 
 new enterprise which Weidmann had in con- 
 templation. He was about to purchase a 
 large estate three leagues from Mattenheim, 
 in the direction of the mountains, and asked 
 Roland and Eric if they would not invest a 
 considerable sum in the land. He wanted 
 to make the attempt to settle a new village 
 there, in combination with an old design of 
 his, of attracting artisans by establishing 
 them on small pieces of land of their own. 
 
 Eric questioned whether they would have 
 a right to use this money in a foreign land 
 for the benefit of foreigners ; and, besides, 
 at present they were only stewards of the 
 property. 
 
 Weidmann praised his caution, but con- 
 vinced him that this was a safe investment, 
 and one that would be of benefit to many. 
 He promised not to act alone, but to take 
 the advice of the Banker in the matter. 
 Security should be given that the amount 
 of capital invested should be set free again 
 in a certain number of years. 
 
 That evening, Weidmann departed for 
 Mattenheim with a great chest of gold. 
 
 Eric was to bring the papers to the city, 
 and then deliver them into the Banker's 
 keeping. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 A SON OF HAM. 
 
 On no one of the persons interested in 
 Villa Eden, had the startling events that 
 had taken place produced a greater impres- 
 sion than on the Major. He could find no 
 rest at home, and, since hearing Sonnen- 
 kamp's statement, he had lost the best pos- 
 session he had, — his sound, healthful sleep. 
 He wandered about restlessly all day, often 
 talking with Laadi, throwing the dog some- 
 times a mushroom fried in fat, and then 
 punishing her severely when she tried to 
 eat it. At night, his inward excitement was 
 so great, that he kept talking in a low voice 
 to himself, and occasionally even roused 
 Fräulein Milch in the hope that she would 
 dispel the disturbing thoughts. Sonnen- 
 kamp's flight, and now the news that Bella 
 had gone with him, increased the distemper 
 of his mind. 
 
 He summoned all his strength when 
 Knopf brought in the negro, received him 
 most cordially, and insisted upon his staying 
 in his house first. Adams consented ; 'and 
 
 the Major took him at once to the castle, 
 where the work was still going on. 
 
 Fräulein Milch confessed to Herr Knopf 
 that she was oppressed by a fear she could 
 not control, and begged him to stay with 
 them ; but he regretted that his duties to 
 Prince Valerian made his stay impossible. 
 So far from allaying Fräulein Milch's anxi- 
 eties, he rather increased them by the sat- 
 isfaction with which he dwelt upon the con- 
 summate knavery of this Adams. 
 
 " I take delight," he repeated, " in ob- 
 serving what a savage the fellow is. A 
 savage nature is not soft, not good-natured, 
 but sly as a tiger-cat. After all, how can 
 you expect a slave to be a model of virtue, 
 and an example of all that is good ? " 
 
 The good-natured, soft-hearted Knopf 
 took a real pleasure in knowing consum- 
 mate rascals like Sonnenkamp and Adams. 
 When he had discovered evil in a man, he 
 carried it to extremes at once, like all 
 idealists : the man must instantly be a con- 
 summate villain. The royal descent that 
 Adams boasted of, was, according to him, 
 nothing but a lie : he was usurping the 
 character of some man of princely blood 
 who had been drowned. " For," added 
 Knopf, with great satisfaction, " he could 
 not have taken the stamped sailing papers 
 from him before he was -launched on the 
 sea of eternity." 
 
 He declared to Fräulein Milch that he 
 had caught Adams in the lie ; for the man 
 had made a mistake in the dates : and 
 Knopf was not a teacher of history, with 
 all the dates at his tongue's end, for noth- 
 ing. 
 
 On the Major's return with Adams, his 
 disease fairly broke out, and he was obliged 
 to take to his bed. 
 
 The Doctor came, and administered sooth- 
 ing remedies, which relieved the Major ; but 
 he had no soothing remedies for Fräulein 
 Milch. She was to receive these from a 
 man who had no knowledge of medicine. 
 When the Professorin could not be with 
 Fräulein Milch to relieve her loneliness, 
 and keep up her courage, she sent Pro- 
 fessor Einsiedel ; and to him the poor wo- 
 man confided all her uneasiness with re- 
 gard to Adams. The man would engage 
 in no occupation ; he could drink and smoke 
 all day ; but that was all. He had worked 
 only while he was a slave, and driven to it ; 
 and as lackey he had had nothing to do 
 but to sit in fantastic livery upon the box 
 of the royal coach. So there he remained 
 in the house Avith Fräulein Milch, doing 
 nothing but inspire her with an unconquer- 
 able terror. The greater her fear became, 
 
504 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 the more pains she took to preserve a 
 friendly manner towards him. 
 
 Only to Professor Einsiedel did she com- 
 plain of the presence of the negro. 
 
 " I must take care," she said, not to 
 let this one black man give me a prejudice 
 against the whole race." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 Fräulein Milch blushed as she replied, — 
 
 " If we do not know a foreign nation, or 
 a foreign race, and our preconceived no- 
 tions of it are unfavorable, we are very apt 
 to consider the solitary individual who may 
 come under our observation as a representa- 
 tive of the whole, and to charge upon the 
 whole his peculiar characteristics and faults. 
 This Adams, now, is a man who will nei- 
 ther learn nor labor. As a slave, he was 
 used to being taken care of, and as a 
 lackey the same : it would be very unjust 
 to let him prejudice me against the whole 
 race, and to conclude that all negroes have 
 these peculiarities." 
 
 " Very good, very reasonable," was the 
 Professor's verdict. " But I should like to 
 know how you come to be so carefully on 
 your guard against prejudices. I know 
 very little about women, to be sure ; but I 
 had supposed this quality was not common 
 among them." 
 
 Fraulein Milch bit her lip. This ac- 
 knowledgment of the claim of every indi- 
 vidual to be judged by his own merits had 
 had a peculiar origin in herself ; but she 
 could not tell it. She felt the Professor's 
 keen glance fixed upon her face, and fan- 
 cied he must have discovered her secret. 
 She waited, expecting to hear it from his 
 lips, but he was silent : after a pause, she 
 continued, — i 
 
 " Do you not think with me that the 
 blacks will never be free until they free 
 themselves, until a Moses appears from 
 among their own number, and leads them 
 out of bondage ? And do you not think, 
 also, that this generation which has been 
 in bondage must perish in the wilderness, 
 and that the new generation, that has 
 grown up in freedom, will be the one to 
 enter the promised land of freedom ? " 
 
 " You seem very familiar with the Old 
 Testament, " said the Professor. 
 
 Fräulein Milch colored up to the border 
 of her white cap. 
 
 " But you have the right idea," contin- 
 ued Professor Einsiedel. " I hope you un- 
 derstand me. The black race has devel- 
 oped nothing original : as far as we can yet 
 see, it contributes nothing to the intellectual 
 possessions of the human family. Certainly 
 no outsider can free them ; but our new 
 
 age, the only redeemer which we acknowl- 
 edge', culture, will reach and deliver them. 
 Are you acquainted with the recent inves- 
 tigations into the Japhetic races ? " 
 "Alas! no." 
 
 " Certainly ; I forgot myself. But you 
 must know that the sons of Ham, this, of 
 course, you have learned from the Bible, 
 are without a history : they bring nothing 
 of their own conquest, acquisition, creation, 
 into the great Pantheon. It is the Semitic, 
 Japhetic races that must free the descend- 
 ants of Ham. 
 
 The Professor was about to lay before 
 Fräulein Milch the result of the latest in- 
 vestigations ; to tell her what extraordi- 
 nary discoveries had been made among the 
 Egyptian papyri ; how it was proved that 
 the author or the compiler of the Bible had 
 not understood Egyptian ; in fact, that the 
 contents of the Bible had existed ♦betöre in 
 Egyptian writings, and the deliverance of 
 the slaves was the only one great act of 
 the mythical Moses in the whole ancient 
 world. In his delight at finding so good a 
 listener, he was about to deliver himself at 
 great length/when Claus came in, having 
 been sent by the Doctor to take Adams 
 home with him. Fräulein Milch whis- 
 pered in his ear that he would have diffi- 
 culty in making Adams work, at which he 
 cried with a smile, — 
 
 " Yes, yes : slaves and rich men are alike 
 in that. The slave does nothing because 
 his master feeds him, and the rich man 
 does nothing because his money feeds him." 
 
 Fräulein Milch impressed upon Claus that 
 he must treat the black man kindly, and 
 remember that he did not represent the 
 black race. The field-guard laughed heart- 
 ily, and carried Adams off to his house. 
 
 The dogs barked fiercely, and the women 
 screamed in terror, when the negro ap- 
 peared. The screams soon ceased ; but, 
 whenever Adams went out of the house, the 
 dogs set up a fresh chorus of barks. 
 
 chapter iv. 
 
 Bella's legacy. 
 
 When" the Doctor came with the Profes- 
 sorin, he was highly rejoiced that Adams had 
 i left the house, and still more that the Major 
 was able to sit up in bed, and smoke his 
 long pipe. After enjoining upon him great 
 quiet, he went with the two women into the 
 sitting-room, and there informed them that 
 he had reason to be proud ; for Bella had 
 written to him from Antwerp, and to no one 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 505 
 
 else. He read the letter to them which 
 was as follows, — 
 
 "You alone are no puppet; you never 
 made a pretence of friendship for me, and 
 therefore you shall have a keepsake. I 
 give you my parrot. The parrot is the 
 masterpiece of creation : he says nothing 
 but what he is taught. Adieu ! 
 
 « Bella." 
 
 The ladies exchanged glances of surprise ; 
 and Fräulein Milch rejoiced the Doctor by 
 saying, for once in her life, an unkind word ; 
 for she could not help expressing pleasure 
 that Frau Bella had come to such an end. 
 The Doctor, on the other hand, said, in a 
 tone of complaint, — 
 
 " I feel a want now that she is gone. I 
 miss in her a sort of barometer of thought 
 and an interesting object of study. Strange ! 
 now that this woman is gone we see, for 
 the first time, how widely her influence was 
 extended, — more widely perhaps than was 
 her due. But still the story pleases me, as 
 a proof that there still exist persons of 
 courage and strong will." 
 
 " You like eccentricity," suggested the 
 Professorin. 
 
 " Oh, no! What seems eccentric to 
 others appears to me the only natural and 
 consistent cfeurse. Bella could not have 
 acted otherwise than she has : this very 
 step was a part of her heroism. Your son 
 can tell you that I suspected something of 
 this sort before it happened. There is 
 much in common between Bella and Son- 
 nenkamp. Both are quick and * clear in 
 judgment where others are concerned ; but, 
 when self is touched, they are tyrannical, 
 malicious, and self-asserting. And, now 
 that she is fairly gone, I may say that she 
 has fled a murderess : to be sure, she did 
 not kill Clodwig with poison or dagger, but 
 she smote him to the heart with killing 
 words and thoughts. He confessed to me 
 that it was so, and now I may repeat it." 
 
 " I am confounded," said the Professorin. 
 " With all her culture, how were such things 
 possible ? " 
 
 " That was just it," broke in the Doctor 
 delighted. " All this intellectual life Was 
 nothing to Frau Bella : she found herself in 
 it, she knew not how. She had to destroy 
 something, or what would she have done 
 with all this culture ? Formerly there was 
 hypocrisy only in religion ; now there is 
 hypocrisy in education. But, no : Frau 
 Bella was no hypocrite, neither was she 
 really ill-natured ; she was simply crude." 
 
 " Crude ? " 
 
 "Yes. Thought of others educates at 
 once the heart and the mind ; Frau Bella 
 thought only and always of herself, of what 
 she had to say and to feel." 
 
 " Do you think," asked the Professorin 
 with some hesitation, " that these two per- 
 sons can be happy together for a single 
 hour?" 
 
 " Certainly not, according to our ideas of 
 happiness. They have no real affection for 
 each other : pride and disappointment, and 
 a desire to shock the world, have induced 
 them to make their escape together. There 
 is one other motive which persons like us 
 cannot enter into. I tried for a long time 
 to discover it, and believe at last that I 
 have succeeded : it is the conciousness of 
 beauty. I am a beauty : that is a principle 
 on which a whole system is founded. Other 
 people are only made for the purpose of 
 seeing and admiring the beauty. Bella 
 committed an act of treason against her- 
 self when she married Clodwig : she could 
 not have done it except in a moment of for- 
 getfulness of this great principle. But how 
 can we judge such people aright ? The 
 longer I live, the more clearly I see that 
 human beings are not alike: -they are of 
 different species." 
 
 " You want to provoke us by heresies." 
 
 " By no means : that is the reason why 
 this anti-slavery fever is distasteful to me. 
 This claiming equality for all men is a 
 wrong." 
 
 " A wrong ? " 
 
 " Yes. Men are not all the same kind 
 of beings ; one is a nightingale that sings 
 on a tree ; another is a frog that croaks in 
 the marsh. Now, to require of the frog that 
 he should sing up in a tree is a wrong, a 
 perversion of Nature. Let the frog alone 
 in his marsh, he is very well off there, and 
 to him and his wife his song sounds as 
 sweet as that of the bird to his mate. Men 
 are of different kinds." 
 
 The Major called from his room to know 
 what the Doctor was talking so loudly and 
 excitedly about. Fräulein Milch soothed 
 him by telling him it was nothing for a sick 
 man to hear, though she confessed that they 
 had been talking of Bella. As she re-en- 
 tered the sitting-room, a messenger arrived 
 from Villa Eden with intelligence which 
 summoned the Doctor and the Professorin 
 thither instantly : Frau Ceres was danger- 
 ously ill. 
 
 The Doctor and the Professorin made all 
 haste back to the Villa. 
 
506 
 
 THE COÜNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE BLACK HORROR. 
 
 " Henry, come ! Henry, come back ! these 
 are your trees, and your house. Come back ! 
 I will dance with you. Henry, Henry ! " 
 
 Such was Frau Ceres' incessant cry. 
 
 She refused all nourishment ; she insisted 
 on waiting till her husband said " Dear child, 
 do take something." Only after the most 
 urgent entreaties of Fräulein Perini, did she 
 at last consent to eat something. She wanted 
 to embroider, and took up her work ; but the 
 next moment she laid it down again. 
 
 Weeping and lamenting, she went through 
 the gardens and greenhouses. 
 
 Fräulein Perini had the greatest difficulty 
 in soothing her. 
 
 Then Frau Ceres reprimanded the garden- 
 er for raking over the paths. The marks of 
 her husband's feet were in the gravel, and 
 they must not be removed, or he would die. 
 
 At other times, she would sit at the window 
 for hours together, looking out upon the 
 hills and the clouds, and the river where the 
 boats were sailing up and down; and all 
 the while she would be grieving in a low 
 voice to herself, — - 
 
 " Henry, I grieved you sorely, I wounded 
 you : you may whip me as you would your 
 slaves ; only let me be with you, forgive me. 
 Do you remember that day when you came 
 out to me, and Caasar played the harp, and 
 I danced in my blue frock and my gold- 
 colored shoes ? Do you remember ? — 
 " Manna," she suddenly cried ; " Manna, 
 bring your harp and play for me. I want 
 to dance ; I am still pretty. Come, Henry ! " 
 
 Suddenly she turned to Fräulein Perini,' 
 and asked, " He is coming back, is he 
 not ? " Her tone was so quiet and natural 
 as for the moment to re-assure them. 
 
 " Tell him he shall marry Frau Bella when 
 I die," she suddenly began again, her great 
 eyes gazing vacantly before her. " Frau 
 Bella is a handsome widow, very handsome ; 
 and he shall give her my ornaments, they 
 will look so well on her." 
 
 " Pray, do not speak so." 
 
 " Come, we must see that his heaths are 
 well taken care of. He taught me all about 
 them. We will have some good bog-earth 
 dried and pounded and sifted. Then, when 
 he comes home, he will say, 'That was very 
 clever of you, Ceres : you did that well." 
 
 She went with Fräulein Perini to the, hot- 
 house, and gave intelligent directions to the 
 head gardener that he should be careful to 
 keep the heaths very moist, and not in too 
 high a temperature. 
 
 Fräulein Perini sent one of the boys who 
 was working in the garden to fetch Eric. 
 Her anxiety was so great, she could not 
 bear to be left longer alone with Frau 
 Ceres. 
 
 Frau Ceres appeared very composed. 
 After examining all the heaths, and lifting 
 each one up to see that the saucers were 
 kept properly damp, she left the hot-house, 
 saying as she went, — 
 
 "It is quite time that Captain Dournay 
 should learn the care of plants. These 
 scholars fancy there is nothing they can 
 learn from us : I can assure them they can 
 learn a great deal from my husband. There 
 are more than two hundred heaths at the 
 Cape. Yes, you may take my word for it ; 
 he told me so. Now let us go back into 
 the house." 
 
 On their way, they came to an open space, 
 where was a pond, and a little fountain 
 playing. 
 
 Suddenly Frau Ceres uttered a piercing 
 cry. Down the broad path towards them 
 came the black man Adams, with Roland 
 on one arm, and Manna on the other. 
 
 " You are changed into a negro ! Who 
 did that to you ? Henry ! Fie, Henry ! 
 Take off the black skin ! " With piercing 
 cries, she threw herself upon tAdams, and 
 tore the clothes from his body; then sank 
 lifeless on the ground before him. They 
 were just bearing her into the house, when 
 Doctor Richard and the Professorin ar- 
 rived. 
 
 Frau Ceres never woke. 
 
 Her body was laid in the great music 
 room ; and the flowers that Sonnenkamp 
 had so tenderly cared for were set about 
 his wife's corpse. Here in the music room, 
 where the young people had so often sung 
 and danced — would there ever be dancing 
 and music here again ? 
 
 The friends came, and kissed and em- 
 braced Roland ; Lina also appeared, and 
 embraced Manna in silence. By a pressure 
 of the hand, a silent embrace, each one ex- 
 pressed to the mourners his sympathy, his 
 desire to help them. 
 
 Pranken appeared also among the mourn- 
 ers, and, with Fräulein Perini, knelt beside 
 the body. 
 
 After a blessing had been pronounced in 
 the church, the funeral-train moved towards 
 the burial-ground. 
 
 The members of the music-club had been 
 gathered together by Knopf and Fassbender, 
 and sang at the open grave. Roland stood 
 leaning on Eric, while the Mother and aunt 
 Claudine supported Manna. 
 
 Erics thoughts reverted to that day in 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 507 
 
 spring when he had sat over his wine with 
 Pranken, and had looked out at the church- 
 yard where the nightingale was singing. 
 Who could have foretold then that he 
 would be standing here a mourner at the 
 grave of the mother of his betrothed, and 
 of his pupil? 
 
 The music • ceased, and the Priest ad- 
 vanced to the edge of the grave. There 
 was a hush for a while over the whole 
 assembly. The chattering of the magpies, 
 and the screaming of the nut-peckers, was 
 heard in the trees. 
 
 After repeating a prayer in a low tone, 
 the Priest raised his voice, and cried, — 
 
 " Thou poor rich child from the New 
 "World ! Now thou art in the new world 
 indeed. Thou hast gone hence with thy sins 
 unforgiven, in delusion, in frenzy.. Thou 
 hast left thy children behind to atone, to 
 suffer, to sacrifice, for thee. They will do 
 it : they must do it. Children, God is 
 your father; the church is your mother. 
 Hearken unto me. Here we stand beside 
 an open grave. Ye can live without us, 
 without the church ; but, when ye come to 
 die, ye must call upon us : and, though ye 
 have scorned us, we shall comfe full of grace 
 and compassion ; for God so commandeth 
 us. O thou departed one ! now thou art 
 ennobled ; for dearth gives nobility : thou art 
 decked with ornaments fairer than thy dia- 
 monds ; for, with all thy worldliness, thou 
 didst have a believing spirit. Grief set her 
 crown of thorns upon thee : thou hast suf- 
 fered much, and theu wilt be forgiven. 
 But I call upon ye who stand here this 
 day alive : Ye can build country houses, 
 and furnish them sumptuously ; but the 
 prince of all life, which is death, shall come 
 and mow you down, and ye shall moulder 
 in the ground. A house of boards, that is 
 the country house which is decreed to every 
 one, deep in the bosom of the earth. But 
 woe to those men whose holy ark is the 
 fire-proof safe ! The men of so-called phi- 
 losophy and natural science come and flat- 
 ter the believers in the fire-proof safe, and 
 when the bolt from heaven falls, they say, 
 ' There is a lighten ing-rod on our house, we 
 have nothing to fear.' And if death comes, 
 what say ye then ? Ye have no answer. 
 O ye poor, rich children ! Turn unto us ! 
 The arms of mercy are open to receive you ; 
 they alone can defend you. To that rich 
 young man the answer was : — I speak not 
 of how the wealth was won from which the 
 young soul will not part ; I only call — no, it 
 is not I who call — my passing breath but 
 bears the eternal word. Leave all that 
 thou hast and follow me. Wilt thou too, 
 
 go hence weeping, because thou canst not 
 give up the riches of the world ? Oh ! I 
 call thee — no, He who has brought this day 
 upon us, who looks down from the height 
 of heaven into this grave — He calls to 
 thee : Bend asunder the bonds of slavery ! 
 Thou art thyself a slave : be free ! And 
 thou, noble maiden, who hast the highest 
 in thyself, look down into this grave, and 
 forward to the time when such a grave 
 shall open for thee. Save thyself! De- 
 spise not the hand that will save thee. 
 Days of sorrow, nights of desolation will 
 come upon thee. In the day thou wilt ask, 
 ' Where am I ? " and for what is my life on 
 the earth ? And thou wilt send forth 
 thy voice weeping into the night, and wilt 
 shudder at the night of death. ? Thou know- 
 est what is salvation ; thou bearest it in thy- 
 self. ' And now ? Faithless — thrice faith- 
 less ! Faithless to thyself, to thy friends, 
 to thy God ! " 
 
 Beating himself upon the breast, he cried 
 in a voice broken by tears, — 
 
 " How willingly, how joyfully would I die, 
 I who am speaking to ye now, if I could 
 say, I have saved them. And yet, not I, 
 but the Spirit through the breath of my 
 mouth. Come, leave all that holds ye back, 
 all on which ye lean — come to me, ye 
 children of sorrow ; to me, ye children of 
 misery, of pain, of riches, and of helpless 
 poverty ! " 
 
 There was a pause in which no one 
 stirred, and the Priest resumed, — 
 
 " I have spoken, I have warned, I have 
 called as I was forced to, and because I 
 was forced. I appeal to thee whose mor- 
 tal frame we are here consigning to the 
 earth, speak to thy children, ' Children, the 
 three handfuls of earth which you were 
 to throw upon my grave, ye shall throw 
 them when this hand resigns what is called 
 the riches of this world, but which is noth- 
 ing but the ransom of a lost soul.' If ye do 
 it not, we shall still pray for ye who are 
 dead in the living body, as we do for thee 
 whose dead body we are sinking into the 
 grave, but whose soul is risen into eternity. 
 Grant that thy children may receive eter- 
 nal life, only the life eternal ! " — 
 
 The Priest's whole body trembled, and 
 Roland trembled as he stood by Eric. 
 Weidmann approached the boy on the other 
 side, and, laying his hand on his shoulder, 
 said in a low voice, " Be calm." 
 
 The grave was filled up with earth : the 
 Priest hurried from the church-yard and 
 Pranken with him : the mourners took their 
 way back to the Villa. 
 
 " Who would have believed that the Priest 
 
508 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 would dare to speak so at the grave ? But 
 it is well. What more can come ? Is not 
 all accomplished now ? It is best that she 
 should have died when she did. The poor 
 rich children ! " 
 
 " What will the children do now ? " 
 
 Such were the words that might have 
 been heard on all sides, as the people dis- 
 persed after the burial of Frau Ceres. 
 
 The children returned from their moth- 
 er's grave to the Villa. 
 
 Roland was the first to recover his self- 
 command. 
 
 " I will not let myself be broken down," 
 he cried. " The black horror shall not 
 frighten me. Give me something to do, Eric. 
 Herr Weidmann, now for the first time, I 
 am yours : I will work, and not let myself 
 give way.'* 
 
 Manna, too, began to be herself again. 
 
 Their mother's death, and the painful 
 scene at her grave, had given added" firm- 
 ness to the character of both. 
 
 The day after the funeral, Roland was first 
 applied to upon a question of money : 
 Fräulein Perini asked for her. discharge. 
 With the approval of Eric and Weidmann, 
 she was abundantly provided for, besides 
 receiving Frau Ceres' entire wardrobe. She 
 packed the clothes in great trunks, and had 
 them taken to the parsonage ; but she her- 
 self soon departed for Italy, where she joined 
 the young widow, the daughter of Herr 
 von Endlich. 
 
 Villa Eden stood now entirely at the dis- 
 posal of Eric and Roland. 
 
 Once more, the Professorin became the 
 one point of attraction; and all assembled 
 in her cottage. She had now a good helper 
 in Professor Einsiedel, who had obtained 
 leave of absence, and promised to spend the 
 winter at the Villa. 
 
 After the shocks that Roland and Manna 
 had experienced, their mourning for their 
 mother was almost a relief. That her 
 death should have been caused as it was by 
 terror at the sight of Adams, by a diseased 
 imagination, and that the Priest at the 
 grave had made his last, desperate attempt 
 upon them, — these things were almost a 
 comfort to them. Roland gratefully clasped 
 his sister's hand as she said, — 
 
 " Let us not have any feeling of hatred 
 or bitterness towards the negro for having 
 been the innocent cause of our mother's 
 death." 
 
 " If there were only something else in 
 prospect for you, if you could only find such 
 an active interest as I have at Mattenheim," 
 said Roland, in whose mind the idea be- 
 came uppermost, that he must return to 
 
 1 Mattenheim. But with a sad smile, like a 
 J sunbeam breaking through heavy clouds, he 
 : soon added, — 
 
 " I forgot : there is something else for 
 you, and something so beautiful ! You will 
 be Eric's wife." 
 Manna was silent. 
 
 " What are you reading so earnestly ? " 
 she asked Roland one day, after he had been 
 sitting for hours without looking up from 
 his book. He showed her what it was, a 
 book treating of forests. That subject was 
 the only one which now fascinated him, he 
 told her ; and, as she spoke, it seemed al- 
 most as if it must be Eric talking, so entire- 
 ly had the boy entered into the spirit of his 
 teacher. 
 
 He felt refreshed by the study of this 
 perpetual and permanent growth, and the 
 voluntary protection of it by men. With a 
 real enthusiasm he added, — 
 
 " I could not be interested in raising 
 •flowers, as my father was ; but I get from him 
 the love with which I can devote myself to 
 the trees and woods. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE VOLUNTEER. 
 
 In accordance with a wish of Weid- 
 mann's, Eric accompanied Roland and 
 Joseph to the city, in order to deposit the 
 valuable papers in a place of safety. 
 
 The first house they visited on arriving 
 in the city was the Banker's, which, situ- 
 ated in a garden outside the gates, Com- 
 bined the repose of the country with the 
 animation of the city. The business life 
 of the owner was in the heart of the city : 
 here he was his own master. Everywhere 
 throughout the richly furnished house were 
 marks of refinement and elegance. 
 
 To Eric's surprise, he found the Banker 
 in the great library where were several 
 beautiful statues. The man, who, at Wolf's- 
 garten, at the time of Clodwig's death, had 
 kept so modestly in the background, here 
 in his domestic life presided over a rich 
 and solid establishment. 
 
 After a short explanation of the object of 
 their visit, the Banker took his guests to his 
 office. Here, in his business activity, he 
 seemed another man, or rather two men. 
 He had, so to speak, an office nature and a 
 home nature : in his own house friendly, 
 amiable, generous, and communicative ; at 
 his office chary of words, curt, decided, and 
 cautious. 
 
 He declined receiving all these valuable 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 509 
 
 papers himself, but advised their being 
 taken to the city bank for deposit : as an ad- 
 ditional precaution, the coupons should be 
 separated from the bonds, and kept by 
 themselves. 
 
 The Banker advised that Roland should 
 acquire some insight of his own into busi- 
 ness and money matters. As he would one 
 .day have the management of such a large 
 property, it would be desirable for him to 
 enter some business house for a while ; 
 otherwise he would always be in a measure 
 dependent upon others. He offered to 
 make an exception in Roland's favor, and, 
 contrary to his custom, receive the young 
 man into his own office. 
 
 Eric assented, seeing what an advantage 
 this would be ; but Roland looked embar- 
 rassed. The Banker now produced Weid- 
 mann's letter in which the same desire was 
 expressed. 
 
 Roland cast a timid look about the room, 
 where several young men were standing at 
 desks writing, or were walking to and fro. 
 Should he be standing there too? What 
 did these strangers mean by disposing of 
 him so, and wishing to give him a career ? 
 
 All this passed rapidly through his mind, 
 and, when he was asked his opinion, he re- 
 plied, — 
 
 " I am grateful not only for the kindness, 
 but for the frankness, of Herr Weidmann 
 and vourself in speaking so openly with 
 me." 
 
 The Banker sent word through a speak- 
 ing-tube, that he desired Herr Rudolph 
 Weidmann to come up to his room. 
 
 Weidmann'a youngest son, who was a 
 clerk in the banking house, soon entered. 
 
 There was a general introduction : the 
 young man bowed to Eric, and shook hands 
 with Roland. The Banker told young 
 Weidmann that he should be excused from 
 work as long as Roland remained ; but the 
 young man replied, that there was so much 
 work going on as to make that impossible. 
 The Banker dismissed him with an invita- 
 tion -to come that evening to his house ; 
 and> after a few friendly words with Roland, 
 the boy departed. 
 
 The Banker considered whether it would 
 not be well to sell some of Sonnenkamp's 
 American paper, owing to the unsettled 
 state of the times ; but, on the other hand, he 
 could hardly take upon himself the respon- 
 sibility. He received with a cordial smile 
 Roland's suggestion, that they were boun^ 
 to keep his money as it was till there 
 should be some new developments. 
 
 Roland and Eric next accompanied the 
 
 Banker to the house. It was just at the 
 time, when, owing to the election of Lincoln, 
 American paper was falling from day to 
 day in value, occasioning great excitement 
 in business circles. Roland and Eric were 
 greatly impressed by the fact ; and the 
 question arose in their minds, How could 
 men take a purely moral and disinterested 
 view of great public events, when the rise 
 and fall which they occasioned affected so 
 immediately their own profit and loss ? 
 
 Bewildered by the noise and the contra- 
 dictory emotions that the scene aroused in 
 them, they left the Exchange, and became 
 the Banker's guests in his own house. 
 
 Here the Banker assumed the part of 
 teacher, and explained to his two guests 
 that the laws of economics and those of 
 humanity were hard to reconcile, almost as 
 hard as the conflict between the freedom of 
 the will and the limitations of nature in the 
 department of philosophy. They are parallel 
 lines that rarely meet, and then only to 
 part again at once. After all, what was 
 one man's loss was another man's gain, so 
 that none of the world's property was really 
 lost. 
 
 Eric showed how these contrasts had been 
 recognized, though in a different'way, in the 
 most ancient times. The rod of Hermes is 
 at once the wand of divination and the 
 symbol of that instantaneous flash — the in- 
 troduction into life and the dismissal from 
 it — by which the old myths represented 
 human life and death. 
 
 The Banker, who was always ready to 
 receive information, listened to Eric's ex- 
 planation of the myths and sagas, and their 
 similarity in all the different nations. He 
 was always eager to penetrate any new 
 realm of knowledge, and grateful for in- 
 struction. 
 
 While the company were at table, several 
 telegrams were brought to the Banker, who 
 read them tranquilly, and then handed 
 them to his two sons, who were sitting at 
 table with him. 
 
 Here, at this table, Eric was for the first 
 time conscious of a change in himself. The 
 Banker liked to have every finished result 
 of science served up for him, and he brought 
 intelligence and relish to the enjoyment of 
 it, as he did at the sAme time to a perfectly 
 ripe pine-apple ; but Eric was not so com- 
 municative as he used to be, and no longer 
 felt called upon to give himself out at every 
 demand. He kept silence, and left the talk- 
 ing to others. As soon as he had finished 
 his comparisons of the different mytholo- 
 gies, the Banker, in his turn, spoke of the 
 
510 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 effect that was produced by the rise or fall 
 of this or that paper ; the exchange also he 
 described as an organic existence. 
 
 Eric was a ready listener, he wanted now 
 to be instructed by others. 
 
 The Banker's daughter-in-law, a lady of 
 noble bearing, treated Eric and Roland 
 with marked cordiality, and expressed a 
 great desire to become acquainted with the 
 Professorin and Manna. 
 
 Eric was surprised at being reminded of 
 an incident that had almost passed from 
 his memory. This lady had heard him sing 
 at the festival, and said how much pleasure 
 it would give her to hear him again, as she 
 sang a little herself: upon his saying, how- 
 ever, that he was not at that moment at all 
 in the mood for singirig, she at once ceased 
 from her request, in the hope that it might, 
 by and by, at some happier time be granted 
 her. 
 
 As the company were rising from table, 
 young Weidmann and the cashier Fassben- 
 der were announced. The host made them 
 come in, and sit down with the party at 
 dessert. The young men were evidently 
 embarrassed, and felt it a great favor to be 
 thus admitted into the private life of their 
 chief. 
 
 The gentlemen repaired to the billiard 
 room. And the young men, as a special 
 favor, were allowed to smoke a cigar in the 
 house of the chief, even in his presence. 
 
 As Roland showed no inclination to take 
 part in the game, the Banker told him to 
 consider himself at perfect liberty to go to 
 his room, or to take a walk with Weidmann 
 and Fassbender. He preferred going with 
 the young men to his room. He returned 
 presently, when the gentlemen, having fin- 
 ished their game, were sitting in familiar 
 chat about the open fire, and with many 
 thanks announced his resolution of entering 
 the office for a while ; only stipulating that 
 he should not be charged with fickleness 
 of purpose, if he did not stay long in the 
 employ. 
 
 Far into the night, Roland talked with 
 Eric, telling him how strange it seemed to 
 have so much guidance and protection offered 
 him, although he acknowledged the advan- 
 tage it was to him, and the gratitude he 
 feit towards these gentlemen for it. 
 
 The next morning, the box of papers was 
 taken to the vaults of the bank. Eric and 
 Roland stood as in a fairy tale before all 
 this hidden treasure. Some old recollection 
 must have been stirred in Roland ; for he 
 suddenly said to Eric, — 
 
 " What would Claus say if he could see 
 all this?" 
 
 He looked in amazement at Eric, standing 
 there so tranquil and indifferent. 
 
 " Does it not impress you strongly too ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " Not at all ; for what is all this treasure ? 
 From the top of a mountain, you see things 
 of much more value than this stamped 
 metal. Houses, fields, trees, are much more, 
 much greater." 
 
 Roland looked disheartened. For a long 
 time to come, he would have nothing to do 
 but cast accounts, and watch the money 
 market. The full life at the Villa, the 
 mountains, the river, the drives, and Matten- 
 heim, all seemed removed to an immeasura- 
 ble distance. Nevertheless, he remained 
 firm. 
 
 Eric took Roland to the counting-house, 
 where the latter was assigned a place at 
 young Weidmann's desk. 
 
 Eric staid several days ; for he wished 
 to become acquainted with Roland's associ- 
 ates. He was especially pleased with the 
 cashier, Fassbender' s son, a young man 
 of much discernment and youthful freshness, 
 active in body, and vivacious in mind. He 
 was president of the mercantile tarnverein, 
 and assiduously cultivated the love of learn- 
 ing in himself and his companions. 
 
 Eric could resign the guidance of Roland 
 to this young man with entire confidence. 
 
 He talked much with the Banker about 
 Clodwig. The Banker was very lenient in 
 his judgment of Bella, and could not re- 
 frain from reproaching Clodwig with hav- 
 ing married again : he had deceived him- 
 self, and allowed Bella to be deceived ; for 
 the latter had really believed that she 
 could find pleasure in a quiet life, and re- 
 linquish all the privileges of youth; and 
 it was the smothered passion for adven- 
 ture which had driven her to this extreme. 
 
 Eric listened, but said little. He even 
 felt it his duty to tell the Banker that he 
 had got over his old zeal for imparting 
 knowledge, and was no longer in a condi- 
 tion to give the total results of his thoughts 
 and study. 
 
 The Banker considered this perfectly 
 natural. The knowledge which constituted 
 a man's calling, he said, was a man's capi- 
 tal, and ought not to be drawn upon : 
 every man held a kind of trust fund, and 
 the interest only should be risked and freely 
 employed in trade. 
 
 He thought it eminently proper that 
 tfEric should now learn to be economical of 
 himself. 
 
 On the third day, Eric returned alone 
 to Villa Eden, promising to forward all 
 necessary aids for Roland. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 511 
 
 He came, as it were, out of another 
 world ; but his heart was lightened : he re- 
 joiced at Roland's sudden resolve, and 
 even began to consider himself no longer 
 as a mere scholar, but as one to whom a 
 great treasure has been intrusted which he 
 is to care for next to truth. 
 
 The announcement of Roland's decision 
 created great astonishment at Villa Eden. 
 
 ' Eric found Professor Einsiedel and Fräu- 
 lein Milch at his mother's ; and all gazed 
 wonderingly at the latter when she suddenly 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " Roland enter the house of a Jew ! " 
 . But to the inquiry what there was strange 
 about this, she made no reply, only looking 
 round as if bewildered. 
 
 Eric told the Professor he should now 
 make great allowance for the rich, to whom 
 full aspiration could scarcely be possible 
 with their vast possessions ever in- their 
 thoughts. The safe-key in the breast 
 pocket must, he thought, lock up some- 
 thing in the heart. 
 
 Manna, alone, comprehended the true 
 grounds of Roland's strange resolve ; for 
 she said that it would not merely prove the 
 youth's salvation to learn the management 
 of wealth, which, after all, was only a kind 
 of military drill, but that he evidently con- 
 sidered it a fortunate opportunity to be 
 transplanted into an entirely new sphere of 
 life. 
 
 And so it was. 
 
 Manna almost envied her brother the 
 opportunity of doing and becoming some- 
 thing new. She, too, would gladly have 
 engaged in some occupation. A trait "of 
 Sonnenkamp's strange nature asserted it- 
 self within her. She wanted to go forth 
 into the world. She was more with the 
 Aunt than with the Professorin, who de- 
 sired, if possible, to effect a speedy and 
 fundamental cure ; while the Aunt preferred 
 to begin by a tender fostering care; 
 
 Eric and his mother pondered much upon 
 how best to deal with Manna's restless 
 mood, and to satisfy her longing aspirations. 
 
 So much had come upon her at once ; 
 and her love for Eric did not seem quite to 
 compensate her for what she had lost, 
 since at heart she still yearned for a firm 
 support in the Church. 
 
 Weidmann came, and with him they dis- 
 cussed the question of waiving all ordinary 
 considerations, and celebrating Manna's and 
 Eric's marriage at once. 
 
 He declared that one ought never to have 
 recourse to marriage as a remedy, but 
 should enter into a new phase of existence 
 
 with a tranquil heart, and a new joy in ex- 
 istence itself. 
 
 This coincided with Eric's own secret 
 feeling, and he said to Manna, — 
 
 " Your desire to travel, to find something 
 outside yourself, is a perfectly natural one. 
 You miss that great other home of yours, 
 the church, which you could visit at any 
 time, and come back in an altered frame of 
 mind. You want some other human being 
 to proffer you out of his own thought and 
 soul, and upon constituted authority, some- 
 thing distinct from yourself, — something 
 which you yourself have lost. Instead of 
 this, you have now to find your all at home 
 and in yourself. It is hard, I know ; but 
 so it must be. So long as you seek any 
 thing without, you are not at home with 
 yourself. Here in this place, in these rooms 
 where such horror overwhelmed us, we 
 must learn to compose and control our- 
 selves. .' Stand to your post ! ' is the mili- 
 tary command ; and it has also a moral sig- 
 nificance." 
 
 With such words, and more to the same 
 effect, did Eric lighten Manna's perplexi- 
 ties : she embraced and thanked him for 
 thus entering into her very soul, and freeing 
 her from every yoke. 
 
 Quietly and serenely the days glided by, 
 until an invitation arrived from the Jus- 
 tice's wife. The Professorin accepted at 
 once ; but Manna said she could not accom- 
 pany her : she was not yet chastened and 
 calm enough to mingle with the world and 
 submit to being received with compassion. 
 
 Eric made a sign to his mother not to 
 urge Manna ; and she was left to do as she 
 liked. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 BITTER ALMONDS BECOME SWEET. 
 
 The Justice's wife was an object of envy 
 in that the first coffee-party of the winter 
 was to be at her house. It seemed hardly 
 necessary to provide any entertainment ; 
 for who would care to eat and drink when 
 there was so much to talk about ? — of Son- 
 nenkamp, of Bella, of the betrothal of Eric 
 and Manna, of poor Frau Ceres, of the 
 negro, of the Prince, of Clodwig's death. 
 There was so much, that only a part of it 
 could be brought into play. 
 
 At length the company assembled. 
 
 The corner of the sofa where Bella 
 used to sit — it seemed decades ago — was 
 shunned with a kind of superstitious dread. 
 Frau " Lay-Figure " was so extremely for- 
 
512 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOÜ 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 tunatc as to have a story to tell about a 
 sofa-corner. There was a physician back 
 in the country, with a very small practice, 
 and the sofa in his parlor had a great hole 
 in it : so, whenever a caller came, the doc- 
 tor's wife was very affable, and seated her- 
 self forthwith upon the torn place in the 
 sofa. It was a good story enough, and 
 Frau Lay-Figure told it well, too : and she 
 laughed, as she generally did ; for . she 
 laughed at every thing : but nobody else 
 laughed very heartily. 
 
 Luckily, a stranger was now introduced ; 
 quite a distinguished personage, who now 
 made her first appearance at the grand 
 coffee-party. This was the wife of the Di- 
 rector of tlie Water-works, who, in the dis- 
 charge of his duties as Rhine Commissioner, 
 had come to reside for a short time in the 
 little town. 
 
 The Frau Directorin of the Water-works 
 seated herself, all unconsciously, in Bella's 
 old place. 
 
 And now they could begin. 
 
 But who would have guessed that the 
 covetousness of the Cabinetsräthen would 
 be first discussed as a kind of appetizing 
 morsel ! This was the way with great 
 people. Of course, one could get clothes 
 from Paris by such machinations. A mag- 
 nificent system of bribery indeed ! Who 
 knew what else she might have got out of 
 Sonnenkamp, and others besides ? The 
 ladies were almost ashamed of their own 
 virtuous stupidity. 
 
 The English lady spoke with great re- 
 spect of the Americans who had purchased 
 the villa of the Cabinetsrath. 
 
 Tiie Consul's wife in particular, she said, 
 belonged to one of the first families in the 
 Northern States ; for there was a decided 
 aristocracy there, distinguished for its noble 
 bearing. The great merchants, the million- 
 naires of the North, were usually called 
 " merchant-princes." 
 
 Frau White, or Frau " Coal," as she was 
 called, gazed reverently up at the English 
 lady. Her glance said that she considered 
 the latter a happy woman to have any thing 
 so well worth telling. 
 
 The Rhine Commissioner's wife had a 
 very good time. To her they could tell the 
 whole story of the house of Sonnenkamp ; 
 and the ladies took turns, and supplemented 
 one another's narratives. 
 
 The Avife of the cement-manufacturer 
 wore her perpetual frown, and nodded oc- 
 casionally, as if she had much to say, when, 
 in reality, she had nothing. 
 
 Frau Lay- Figure observed, smiling sweet- 
 ly, that it was very interesting to have 
 
 known a slave-trader. She had often wished 
 to see one. 
 
 " And a cannibal too ! " said the wife of 
 the steamboat-agent, who, as usual, held 
 her cup aloft in her left hand, and dipped 
 her cake in it from time to time. She had 
 always the very best appetite. 
 
 " Yes, that is interesting too," assented 
 Frau Lay-Figure, smiling so as to show her 
 teeth. 
 
 It was remarkable that no one ventured at 
 first to allude to Frau Bella, until the wife 
 of the steamboat-agent told how she had gone 
 with her eldest daughter to the dentist, and 
 he had told her he was never so startled in 
 his life as when the Countess von Wolfs- 
 garten came to him, the very night Count 
 Clod wig was so ill, to have a front tooth 
 set. 
 
 The Doctor's wife said that Frau Bella 
 was not guiltless of her husband's death. 
 
 All now fell upon her. She must tell 
 them what she knew ; and, before she 
 could explain herself, Frau Lay-Figure 
 added, — 
 
 " And no doubt Herr Sonnenkamp was 
 guilty too ! Who knows what he did V " 
 
 The good Doctor's lady turned pale ; but 
 though she protested earnestly and solemn- 
 ly, that her husband had said nothing about 
 it, that she never would have spoken if 
 he had, they would not believe her. The 
 Doctor's wife was exceedingly sorry, and 
 retracted her remarks, that Bella, in a pas- 
 sionate outburst, had wounded deeply her 
 husband's feelings. The mistaken declara- 
 tion of the coroner, so strenuously contra- 
 dicted, was revived ; and they said it was 
 evident that Frau Bella had felt herself 
 in some way to blame, and had fled on this 
 account. 
 
 "I pity Herr von Pranken," said Lina 
 suddenly. 
 
 All eyes were turned upon her ; and Lina 
 quietly continued, — 
 
 " Yes, he is not so bad a man after all. 
 He has lost his bride, and now his sister has 
 deserted him ; and for so much shame and 
 misery to be heaped upon his head is too 
 hard." 
 
 The wife of the Director of the Water- 
 works praised Lina's kind-heartedness, and 
 wanted to know more about Bella's char- 
 acter. Frau Lay-Figure said she was, the 
 one to inform her ; for she had a cook who 
 had formerly lived with Bella. The latter 
 was not bad to her servants, only capricious. 
 She sometimes scolded them dreadfully, but 
 made them presents afterwards, and took 
 care to have them enjoy themselves. 
 
 A good deal of curiosity was expressed 
 
THE COÜNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 513 
 
 by one and another, as to whether Eric and 
 Manna would soon marry. The death of 
 Frau Ceres and the Priest's violent 
 harangue were next discussed. 
 
 The steamboat-agent's wife had some 
 further information to give about Bella's 
 nocturnal journey. She had questioned the 
 pilot ; and universal astonishment was ex- 
 pressed that Bella had taken no wardrobe 
 with her. 
 
 " I fancy she will assume man's attire, 
 and she will look remarkably well in it." 
 
 Frau Lay-Figure rolled her eyes about 
 the circle after this audacious remark ; but 
 she encountered no glance. The eyes of 
 all the ladies were cast down. 
 
 The question was now asked, whether 
 the Professorin had been invited. The 
 Justice's wife replied in the affirmative ; and 
 Frau Lay-Figure began, that people said, 
 — but they all knew no one had ever said 
 it but herself, — that the Professorin had 
 managed very adroitly to oust Pranken, and 
 substitute her son. Before any one could 
 reply, there was a knock, and the Profes- 
 sorin entered. All rose ; and Frau Lay- 
 Figure, who had ensconced herself in the 
 harmless corner of the sofa, insisted upon 
 giving the Professorin her place. 
 
 With winning frankness, the lady re- 
 marked, that she had had a strong desire to 
 see something of her fellowmen once more, 
 and could enter most heartily into their 
 simple and delightful mode of life. Amidst 
 so much confusion, one was apt to forget 
 that there could be any thing steadfast in 
 the world. 
 
 Every one was struck with respectful 
 surprise, Frau Lay-Figure most of all. 
 
 Inquiries were made for Manna ; and the 
 Professorin said she had wished to be re- 
 membered to them, and regretted that she 
 • could not come. A genial feeling prevailed ; 
 and Lina did not wait to be entreated, but, 
 at the request of the Professorin, seated 
 herself at the piano, and sang. She felt 
 that her music would refresh the good lady ; 
 and she sang with her whole soul. She had 
 never sung better. In the midst of her 
 performance, Manna appeared with Aunt 
 Claudine in the adjoining room. Both 
 waited in silence till the song was ended. 
 
 Lina was overjoyed at Manna's arrival, 
 and accosted her thus, — 
 
 " Forgive me for being so naughty ! It 
 has vexed me that my happy betrothal- 
 time should be spoiled by all this trouble ; 
 and now it is just the same with you ! I 
 was thinking even now, as I sang, how I 
 wished I could give you some of my joy and 
 
 forgetfulness and hopefulness and all the 
 rest." 
 
 The eyes of all were fixed upon Manna, 
 whose appearance was totally changed by 
 her mourning dress. The Rhine Commis- 
 sioner's wife observed in a low tone, that 
 she had never seen such dark eyes, or so 
 broad and fair a forehead. Manna was 
 perfectly self-possessed, and bowed when 
 assailed on all sides with entreaties that 
 she would continue to live at the Villa, and 
 not sell it, and remove to another country. 
 They were all so much attached to Eric 
 and herself, and would like so much to have 
 them for friends and neighbors. 
 
 In fact, a magnanimous spirit took posses- 
 sion of the company ; and, on their way 
 home, Manna exclaimed, — 
 
 " O Mother ! Eric was perfectly right. 
 He persuaded me to come here, and I am 
 glad I did. We ought not to seclude our- 
 selves from people when they are kindly 
 disposed towards us." 
 
 During the whole drive, Manna held the 
 Professcfrin's hand, and, when they arrived 
 at the Villa, ran up the steps for the first 
 time with a firm and rapid tread. She 
 ordered the room to be brightly lighted, and 
 also begged Eric to sing to her. He knew 
 what songs to choose; and, when they sepa- 
 rated, she said, — 
 
 "Yes, my dear ones, I have taken, my 
 journey, and now I am once more quite at 
 home." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 TRANSPLANTED. 
 
 Roland, meanwhile, was living quietly 
 at the commercial town, industrious and 
 happy. He resided in the Banker's house, 
 and made friends with the children of the 
 latter, particularly with a younger son, who, 
 just returning from the University, had laid 
 aside his books, and entered immediately 
 upon the banking business. But for Weid- 
 mannes youngest son he cherished a genu- 
 ine youthful friendship, very unlike that 
 artificial intimacy with the cadet, which 
 had been forced upon him by others. They 
 were incessantly busy during the day, which 
 closed with a late dinner, after which they 
 had a game in the billiard-room, or attend- 
 ed some concert or play, or, more frequently, 
 read or studied quietly, each by himself. 
 
 Roland often sat in his room till late at 
 night, teaching English to his young friends 
 Weidmann and Fassbender. 
 
 He, too, had now become a teacher, and 
 
514 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 derived a singular pleasure from thus im- 
 parting something of himself, and not 
 merely of his possessions, — a pleasure whieh 
 was exalted into the purest joy by the 
 bright and cordial nature of young Weid- 
 mann. 
 
 Wherever Roland appeared, he was the 
 object, first of remark, afterwards of kindly 
 attention. He thought often of his winter 
 at the capital, and how different life had 
 been there. Here he found a circle of com- 
 moners, understanding itself thoroughly, 
 and not without pride in its own strength. 
 All the officials at the counting-house were 
 particularly friendly to Roland. His beau- 
 ty, his confiding disposition, above all his 
 hard fate, seemed to recommend him to 
 their especial consideration. The Banker 
 praised him for having mastered, in so short 
 a time, the essentials of the business ; for he 
 could now compute the price of any public 
 funds by means of the exchange lists, and 
 had a good insight into book-keeping. 
 
 So passed several weeks, until the elder 
 Weidmann arrived, and invited his son, the, 
 cashier Fassbender, and Roland to visit 
 him. 
 
 Weidmann first saw his son and Fass- 
 bender alone, and learned from them that 
 the younger tradesmen had discussed the 
 subject of the slave-trade, and had even 
 held a meeting, and formally debated the 
 question, but disagreed in their final vote. 
 They stood twelve against twelve ; it hav- 
 ing been strongly urged that a man might 
 lawfully carry on this ' traffic, provided he 
 were not personally engaged in it ; espe- 
 cially since others would be sure to carry 
 on the lucrative business if he were held 
 back by scruples. 
 
 Weidmann looked grave. 
 
 Roland came. He was very animated, 
 and re-assured by Wcidmann's encouraging 
 glance, he begged to be allowed to return to 
 Mattenheim. 
 
 The Banker assented readily. 
 
 W T ith expressions of genuine affection, 
 they bade Roland good-by. First of all, he 
 revisited Villa Eden with Herr Weidmann. 
 He had left it a boy ; he returned a mature 
 man. 
 
 In a few days, Roland's effects were all 
 packed, ready for a removal to Matten- 
 heim. 
 
 Eric accompanied him thither, and Ro- 
 land turned crimson, when, on entering his 
 room — it was the same that Lilian had 
 formerly occupied — Knopf handed him a 
 note from the latter. She had expressly 
 requested that it might not' be given to 
 
 Roland until he returned permanently to 
 Mattenheim. 
 
 The next day, Eric went back to Villa 
 Eden 5 and announced to Manna and his 
 mother his own intention of removing to 
 Mattenheim. 
 
 A strange conflict ensued in Manna's 
 breast ; but, as she made no allusion to it, 
 Eric thought it right to respect her reserve. 
 
 The Major, to whom Eric confided his 
 plan, complained that he, too, had got to 
 build himself a new nest in his old age ; for 
 his brother, the Grand-master, whose wife 
 had died, had become engaged, and was to 
 be married again in the spring. Now, 
 Fräulein Milch had no mind to be tolerated 
 and patronized by a young wife ; and when 
 his Masonic brother, the Grand-master, had 
 informed them that he should wish to reserve 
 one of the rooms which the Major had 
 formerly occupied, for a guest-chamber, 
 Fräulein Milch had behaved in a most inde- 
 pendent manner. 
 
 She thanked him, but declared her fixed 
 determination to leave the house. 
 
 They had never had a quarrel before. 
 
 But when the Major perceived how 
 sorrowfully Fräulein Milch repented her ob- 
 stinate determination, "he scolded himself for 
 being too meek and yielding, and thanked 
 the Fräulein for preserving her dignity as 
 he ought to have done himself, but which 
 he was so apt to lose sight of. 
 
 He proposed to Fräulein Milch the plan 
 of removing to the castle, where there were 
 fine rooms all in readiness, and where it 
 must be very pleasant to live ; but Fräulein 
 Milch would hear nothing about living in a 
 knightly castle. She set forth to the Major 
 the bother it would entail : with the butcher, 
 the baker, the grocer, the milkmaid, with 
 all the various trades and callings, did she 
 persecute the Major, until he was sore dis-' 
 mayed. 
 
 " We will say no more about it," he cried, 
 " but pray don't let me forget to ask Cap- 
 tain Dournay how the old knights used to 
 live." 
 
 Upon Eric's arrival, this had been the 
 Major's opening question, and then, for 
 the first time, he made known his own 
 difficulty. 
 
 Eric did not regret it ; for he hoped, that, 
 in the spring, the Major would remove to 
 the green cottage, while his mother would 
 live with Manna at the Villa. 
 
 The Major laughed. " Did you ever 
 hear," said he, " the story of the man who 
 was a suitor forty years ? Courting-time 
 is very fine, I tell you ; but even ten years 
 
 / 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 515 
 
 is too long. And now away with you ! 
 There is something for you to learn yet. 
 But don't tell a soul about that stale old 
 suitor, will you ? On your honor ? He, 
 too, was once young." 
 
 On the eve of his departure, when he 
 and Manna were alone, Eric said, — 
 
 " Manna, we have no betrothal time. 
 Our hearts are torn by sorrow and separa- 
 tion, Ave must comfort one another." 
 
 " And might I know why you, too, forsake 
 me?" 
 
 " I shall be much with you and my moth- 
 er ; but I must be alone also. Just think, I 
 have to become a new man, to change my 
 scholarly vocation for some other, I know 
 not what; but whether I am near you, or 
 not, whether I hold your hand, and look into 
 your eves, or am far away, be sure that you 
 are the inmost life of my heart : I bear you 
 about with me like a blessed faith." 
 
 As Eric continued in this strain, a new 
 and delightful understanding was established 
 between the two, and Manna embraced him, 
 saying, — 
 
 " I will not shed a tear to-morrow when 
 you leave ; and I will follow you in all your 
 wanderings with trustful eyes. I know that 
 I am with you and in you, as you are with 
 me and in me. It seems inconceivable to 
 me that I never knew you before that spring 
 day. I cannot think what the world was 
 like before I knew you ; for I cannot im- 
 agine the world without you." 
 
 When Eric left for Mattenheim, the next 
 day, he kissed his betrothed for the first 
 time before his mother ; and, after he had 
 mounted his horse, Manna said to him, — 
 
 " I am glad you are going ; and I will 
 stay quietly with your mother, and be per- 
 fectly content. Thank you for letting me 
 be a child once more before I become your 
 wife. Ah ! I had no childhood ; but forgive 
 me. I will never cease to be grateful for 
 what has come to me, and I will not mingle 
 sorrow with it all. And I promise that 
 you shall have in me a strong and trust- 
 worthy wife." 
 
 So Eric departed. 
 
 Adams went with him. He, too, was to 
 learn husbandry at Mattenheim. 
 
 The ladies were now alone with Professor 
 Einsiedel and the Major, who was more at 
 the Villa than ever. 
 
 The Villa itself, however, was silent and 
 deserted ; for they all lived at the green 
 cottage. Many of the servants were dis- 
 missed, and the gardeners only were kept 
 at the Villa. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 UPON NEW SOIL. 
 
 A cheerful life they led at Mattenheim. 
 The day began and ended early. There 
 was no trespassing upon the night. All 
 were incessantly occupied, and even Adams 
 could not hold aloof. 
 
 Weidmann had arranged matters very 
 methodically. 
 
 Adams received no orders ; but they al- 
 lowed him to see that every one about him 
 was busy, and, in the end, he could not choose 
 but follow their example. He became 
 ashamed of his idleness ; and the servant 
 who had once been a criminal must now 
 teach him to plough and sow. He was even 
 eager to thresh ; but this was exceedingly 
 difficult for him, because he could not keep 
 time. He liked best to work in the mill; 
 and it was a droll sight to see the stalwart 
 negro pass and repass, powdered with meal. 
 He also applied himself zealously to his 
 books, in the evening, with Knopf for a 
 teacher. 
 
 Of all the dwellers at Mattenheim. Knopf 
 was the happiest. What more could he 
 desire ? He had Weidmann whom he 
 revered. Eric whom he held in high esteem, 
 Roland whom he loved enthusiastically, and 
 a prince and a slave to instruct ; for Prince 
 Valerian had to submit to being taught at 
 Adams's side ; and, while Adams toiled at his 
 writing-book, the Prince pursued his studies 
 in history and mathematics ; and it was often 
 amusing to hear Knopf say, when giving a 
 lesson in the history of literature, " Ob- 
 serve, my dear young lady," for hitherto his 
 pupils in this department had been mostly 
 girls. 
 
 During the day-time, they were employed, 
 whatever the weather, in the open air. 
 Surveys were undertaken, especially of the 
 recently purchased domain ; and many a 
 good hunt came off, in which Roland 
 distinguished himself by his great expert- 
 ness. 
 
 Roland was passed, so to speak, from 
 hand to hand ; for each of Weidmann's sons 
 took possession of him for hours or days at 
 a time, and found a peculiar pleasure in 
 affording the youth, all possible assignee. 
 Roland gained an insight into many differ- 
 ent processes of manufacture ; but his curi- 
 osity was also awakened in quite another 
 direction. 
 
 In the cement-manufactory all was so still, 
 that Roland asked the Inspector, Fassbend- 
 
51G 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 er's eldest son, -whether the workmen were 
 nut allowed to speak. 
 
 " They prefer not to," was the answer ; 
 " for talking distracts their attention, and, 
 as they work by the job, it would hinder 
 them very much." 
 
 Roland looked confounded. These men 
 imposed silence upon themselves for the 
 sake of earning their bread ! 
 
 The noon-bell rang. He saw young men 
 and girls of his own age come out of the 
 manufactory : some of the girls were knit- 
 ting as they walked ; and the question arose 
 wimin him, In what respect do you and 
 your sister differ from these, and why ? 
 
 On Saturday evening, Roland stood by 
 while the workmen were paid off. They 
 were gathered in groups before the house. 
 Some had washed themselves, and others 
 were still covered with dust. The little 
 sliding window in the counting-room was 
 opened, and Roland stood near the Inspect- 
 or, as the latter opened a drawer in which 
 lay various packages of money, and read 
 aloud the list of the workmen's names. He 
 watched their hard hands as they took up 
 the money from the shelf, or swept it with 
 the right hand into the left. 
 
 When they were all paid off, he went 
 out and mingled with the people. There 
 were soldierly fellows among them : some 
 Avere young, and some old ; and all carried 
 sticks with sharp ferrules, and Avere chaffer- 
 ing with a baker- woman for loaves of 
 bread, which they wrapped in cloths, and 
 carried away under their arms. One called 
 to another to bear him company in his walk ; 
 and they dispersed up and down the moun- 
 tain. 
 
 Is it really the lot of human beings to live 
 so ? How old are these men ? Where are 
 their homes ? 
 
 Roland gazed thoughtfully after them. 
 
 Is there any help for such things ? or is 
 there none? 
 
 " What are you thinking about ? asked 
 the Inspector. 
 
 " I am wondering why these tired men 
 should have so far to go." 
 
 " It is good for them. It is what keeps 
 them well. The worst feature of their lot 
 is being pent up in a confined space." 
 
 Roland was silent ; but countless question- 
 ings arose within him. He could not cope 
 with them ; and no one else, however well 
 disposed, could solve them for him. He 
 did not regain perfect composure except 
 after an interview with Weidmann. 
 
 Weidmann possessed a firm and unvary- 
 ing equipoise of character, before which the 
 stormy agitation of other souls subsided. He 
 
 had dignity without severity He was not 
 so vivacious and stimulating as Eric ; but 
 he preserved a steady and quiet modera- 
 tion in all things. He took note of a blun- 
 der, a disaster, whether in public or pri- 
 vate affairs, with manly calmness ; never 
 allowing himself to be bewildered or dis- 
 heartened thereby. 
 
 Eric had caused his pupil to see things 
 through a polished and many-sided prism, 
 which seemed to remove objects from their 
 true position, and make them appear higher 
 or lower than they really were. Weidmann, 
 on the other hand, revealed them in their 
 simple, natural aspect. He introduced 
 method into Roland's thought, life, and 
 work ; for, thus far, the latter had been 
 too unstable, oven in spiritual things. He 
 gave Roland a course of lessons in agri- 
 cultural chemistry, which, at the same time, 
 served Prince Valerian as a review of the 
 teaching he had already received. 
 
 Eric, too, came in for a share of this in- 
 struction, and became Roland's fellow-pupil. 
 
 Very seldom did Weidmann pass from 
 positive facts to spiritual interpretations; 
 but he was all the more impressive when he 
 did. He led Roland to a comprehension 
 of human life, to patience, and wisdom. 
 He showed him, that, despite the stress laid 
 on the equality of mankind, men differed 
 as widely in their power of grasping 
 thoughts, as different substances in their 
 ability to conduct heat. Earth warms 
 quicker than water ; but it cools more rap- 
 idly also. Thus, by analogies from Nature, 
 did Weidmann endeavor to teach his pupil 
 justice and humanity, and was not unfre- 
 quently surprised to discover in Roland a 
 kind of previous preparation, which ena- 
 bled him to receive new ideas readily, and 
 to develop them ; for ideas having an anal- 
 ogy to each other must needs suggest and 
 flow into one another, giving rise to new 
 combinations of thought, as we see in me- 
 chanics, and conspicuously in chemistry. 
 
 Weidmann often expressed briefly to Eric 
 his pleasure at Roland's zeal in work and 
 study, and his interest in the labor of others 
 in the manufactories. 
 
 . But, if a great and noticeable change was 
 taking place in Roland, a still greater trans- 
 formation was being effected in Eric. Here, 
 where a man wrought always with refer- 
 ence to his neighbor, where no one dreamed 
 of grasping the entire system, but each 
 throve quietly by himself; here Eric's lips 
 were often sealed for days together. He 
 no longer felt it his duty to be always im- 
 parting. He not only found a deep joy 
 in his love for Manna, but he preferred 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 517 
 
 listening to talking, and seeing to showing. 
 He felt as if he were on some peaceful 
 island, where yet he could hear a friendly 
 voice at any hour. Pranken might now 
 have watched him from morning till night 
 in vain : he would have had to retract that 
 bitter speech of his about Eric's zeal for 
 imparting knowledge. 
 
 Roland and Knopf often regarded him 
 with surprise. He would accompany them 
 on long walks without uttering a single 
 word. 
 
 The evening of each day was devoted to 
 festivity. Great stress was here laid upon 
 that evening recreation, which, unfortunately, 
 has become obsolete in the world. Frau 
 Weidmann, who dressed neatly but plainly 
 during the day, appeared regularly each 
 evening in holiday attire. They did not 
 have prayers at Mattenheim ; but Weid- 
 mann held private worship in his soul. 
 
 When Roland expressed his peculiar 
 pleasure in the fine and efficient system of 
 horse-breeding at Mattenheim, Weidmann 
 would say, — 
 
 " I have a story to tell about that. Every- 
 body has heard, and possibly seen with 
 his own eyes, how tjie old lord of the man- 
 or used to drive through the village with 
 his span of dock-tailed bays, to the admira- 
 tion of all beholders. And it is customary 
 to say that we have no such horses now-a- 
 days, so large, so fat, so handsome ! Well, 
 that may be. But no more are there such 
 miserable nags to be seen as in old times. 
 All horses are moderately strong and hand- 
 some, and of tolerably good blood. The 
 breed generally has improved. And there 
 you have the present age. The horse is 
 a fine emblem to my mind ; the lilac is 
 another. They used to bring this flower- 
 ing shrub from Persia, and set it only in 
 the parks of great people ; but now it grows 
 everywhere, and is none the less beautiful 
 for being common. And so the beautiful 
 enlarges its circumference perpetually." 
 
 Roland's eyes sought Eric's at such words ; 
 and their flash said, " How new, how glori- 
 ous, how wide, the world is ! " 
 
 On another evening, Weidmann made 
 the casual remark, — 
 
 " If the last century deserves to be called 
 the age of enlightenment, ours should be 
 called the age of free labor; for self-im- 
 posed labor is alone genuine and produc- 
 tive." 
 
 Roland did not look at Eric after this, 
 but sat with downcast eyes. He knew 
 what the expression signified, having heard 
 it used before now in contradistinction to 
 slave-labor. 
 
 Prince Valerian, too, created much amuse- 
 ment. He had always retained that insa- 
 tiable desire for knowledge, which he had 
 displayed on his first day at Wolfsgarten ; 
 but Weidmann was as indefatigable in his 
 answers as the Prince in his questions. 
 
 Teaching had acquired a new impressive- 
 ness for Roland. He was a member of so- 
 ciety. He heard questions answered which 
 he himself had not proposed, and, when he 
 subsequently asked these same questions of 
 himself, the replies sank into his heart more 
 deeply than the answers to his own in- 
 quiries used to do. Weidmann's teachings 
 were always clear and definite. They fixed 
 attention on the subject exclusively, never 
 on the teacher, insomuch, that Weidmann's 
 own worth was often quite overlooked. 
 
 A stream so clear that its bed is plainly 
 visible frequently appears shallower than 
 it really is ; and so it was with' Weidmann. 
 He was not brilliant ; but he had genuine 
 common sense. 
 
 There was always unusual excitement at 
 Mattenheim when a letter arrived from 
 Dr. Fritz ; and Weidmann said openly, that, 
 since storms were abroad in the world, he 
 trusted that the tempest which had broken 
 over America might elear the air in Europe. 
 
 Encouraged by this remark, Knopf related 
 how it had been represented to Louis XIII. 
 that he could never convert savage nations, 
 and bring them into the church, without 
 first enslaving them : now, however, he said, 
 the heathen were brought into the church, 
 but the little matter of freeing them after- 
 wards was forgotten. 
 
 Frau Weidmann deprecated this sort of 
 discussion before Roland, but comforted 
 herself with the thought that her husband 
 must have some deliberate purpose in it 
 all. 
 
 And, in fact, it was Weidmann's design to 
 lead Roland to a full consideration of this 
 question. He knew the sophistry of the 
 world, and how accessible to such sophistry 
 is a heavy heart. He had often in the 
 commercial town heard intelligent and phi- 
 lanthropic people discuss the question of 
 the slave-trade, and offer all manner of 
 palliations for it. Roland must feel to the 
 full the anguish of having to work out the 
 solution of this problem as best he could. 
 With a vehemence altogether unusual,Weid- 
 mann expressed his indignation that any 
 one should ever justify the trading in hu- 
 man beings endowed with speech and rea- 
 son, as if they were inanimate things. 
 
 It was, however, impossible to brood long 
 over any one thought amid the far-reaching 
 and many-sided activity of the place. More- 
 
518 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 over, the laying-out of a new village upon 
 the lately-purchased domain afforded man- 
 ifold occupation. 
 
 Weidmann particularly enjoyed the car- 
 rying out of this plan, lie admonished the 
 younger men thai it was. a misfortune not 
 to have arable land connected with a vine- 
 yard, not only because crops sometimes 
 fail, but because the smaller vine-dresser, 
 who must sell in the autumn, is underpaid 
 lor his petty crop. A peasant who has 
 wheat or potatoes to sell receives the same 
 fixed price for a given amount of produce as 
 others do whose crops are large ; but it was 
 not so with grape-culture. ' 
 
 Knopf was very urgent that the village 
 should not be one of those tiresome colonial 
 settlements built exactly in a straight line: 
 and the architect consoled him by pointing 
 out that the meandering brook, and the 
 church upon the hill hard by, gave an effect 
 of grouping by no means geometrical. 
 
 Knopf won Roland over to his plan of 
 building a music-hall forthwith* 
 
 So there was perpetual interest and va- 
 riety about the life at Mattenheim. 
 
 When they came home from the fields, 
 the manufactories, the mines, or the domain, 
 they could see it at once in Frau Weid- 
 mannes lace, if slie had had a letter from 
 America. 
 
 Doctor Fritz wrote often; but their great- 
 est pleasure was when Lilian wrote also. 
 
 Roland's interest in Lilian was stimu- 
 lated and enhanced in two ways. Prince 
 Valerian liked particularly to congratulate 
 Roland on cherishing an early love without 
 losing his manly energies. Knopf had a 
 poet's deep delight in being the secret con- 
 fidant of so romantic a love. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE LOST ORGAN-TONES. 
 
 Mattenheim was the seat of a hearty 
 Rhenish hospitality. There were almost 
 always visitors in the house. The Banker 
 came, and was rejoiced to find Roland so 
 busy and cheerful. Professor Crutius came, 
 and made friendly overtures to Roland ; but 
 the latter said, — 
 
 " You cannot want my friendship." 
 
 The information brought by Crutius con- 
 cerning the state of affairs in the New 
 World gave rise to many an animated dis- 
 cussion on the great, decisive, protracted 
 struggle between freedom and slavery ap- 
 parently impending there. Crutius could 
 corroborate from his own observation the 
 
 statement, that the Southern States were 
 abundantly provided with disciplined offi- 
 cers ; for in the military school at West 
 Point, where he had formerly been a teacher, 
 there were many more Southern than 
 Northern students. If the Union succumbed, 
 if, as was very possible, the slaveholders 
 should conquer, the cause of freedom was 
 wounded to the core. Not only would men 
 lose their faith, but the cause itself would 
 be injured ; who knew how deeply or for 
 how long a time ? 
 
 Soon after Professor Crutius departure, ' 
 a kind of dulness and dejection was observ- 
 able in Roland. He did what was required 
 of him ; but he wore, for hours together, a 
 fixed and hard expression. Neither to 
 Weidmann nor to Eric did he reveal what 
 was passing in his mind. To Knopf alone 
 he confessed his anxieties, making the lat- 
 ter promise that he would tell no one else. 
 
 Roland had learned that Dr. Fritz was 
 his father's bitterest foe ; he had also acci- 
 dentally heard Crutius tell Weidmann, that 
 he had no doubt Sonnenkamp was one of 
 the most zealous of the Southern leaders, 
 and would take an active part in the war. 
 
 Like a smothered fire which suddenly 
 sends up countless tongues of flame, so did 
 all Roland's anguish revive. Anguish for 
 his father's deeds, for his flight and the 
 elopement of Bella while his mother yet 
 lived, for his mother's death and his own 
 inheritance of sorrow — all these several 
 pains were blended confusedly within him, 
 and his one hope of deliverance seemed an- 
 nihilated. Lilian is the child of one of his 
 father's most determined enemies, and, if 
 forced to decide, can he take the field 
 against his father ? 
 
 Roland became desperate. Is there any 
 thing like a righteous moral order in the 
 affairs of this world ? No : all is chaos and 
 barbarism. 
 
 Knopf knew not how to comfort him, and 
 found it hard to keep his own promise of 
 secrecy. 
 
 One day, a bright, cold, bracing winter 
 day, Weidmann crossed the river to close 
 a contract for the supply of railway sleep- 
 ers, and took Roland with him. 
 
 On their return, they found the Rhine 
 full of floating ice. The bells were ringing 
 in the valley and on the hills ; the sunset- 
 glow in the heavens spread in strange 
 waves of light over a background of pale 
 green sky. Griffin stood in the prow of 
 the boat, looking out upon the landscape ; 
 and as they made their way, the boatmen 
 pushing aside the blocks of ice, Roland said 
 suddenly, — 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 " It was just such a day, just such an 
 evening, when Washington crossed the Del- 
 aware." 
 
 He said no more. Weidmann divined 
 that Roland was wondering why Washing- 
 ton had not abolished slavery immediately 
 on the close of the war ; but he turned the 
 subject aside, saying that he thought it 
 one of the finest traits in the great Wash- 
 ington's character, that he was so ready to 
 be convinced of an error. 
 
 Roland was startled. What might that 
 mean ? 
 
 Weidmann continued, "I have left you 
 to yourself, R,oland ; but now I will tell you 
 the state of your mind. You are involved 
 in doubt and despair; but you are no strong 
 man unless you rise above them." 
 
 The young man's eyes dilated, and Weid- 
 mann continued, — 
 
 " Two things are to be noted. In the 
 first place, you have ceased to believe that 
 the world is under the dominion of moral 
 law, you have lost your faith in that Su- 
 preme Being whom we, as well as the 
 Priests, call God ; and, secondly, you be- 
 lieve" (and this is worse still), — you be- 
 lieve that you must take upon yourself the 
 expiation of sins which you never com- 
 mitted. You dread the inevitable conse- 
 quences entailed by every earthly event, 
 and are confused by your fears." 
 
 Roland gazed wonderingly at the man 
 who thus calmly and deliberately spoke out 
 his own inmost thought. 
 
 Weidmann continued, — 
 
 " On the one hand, you deny the opera- 
 tion of eternal laws ; on the other, you fear 
 it. Now look at these masses of ice in the 
 river. Do you care to learn something of 
 that immeasurable and all-pervading wis- 
 dom whiefc interrupts the laws of Nature 
 when their strict, logical consequences would 
 involve the destruction of the world? " 
 
 " Oh, if that were so ! If I might but 
 learn it ! " 
 
 " Well, then, stop there. Do you know 
 what changes regularly take place in bodies 
 as they become warmer or colder ? " 
 
 " Heat expands, and renders them lighter. 
 Cold contracts, and makes them heavier." 
 
 M Is it the same with water ? " 
 
 ** I think so." 
 
 " No, it is not. If ice were heavier than 
 water, it would sink, and the streams would 
 freeze from the bottom upward. There 
 suddenly we have a deviation, an exception 
 to the so-called stern and implacable law of 
 Nature. Water attains its utmost weight 
 and density at a temperature of 38°. 75 
 Fahrenheit. Beyond this point, it grows 
 
 lighter, and expands. And I tell you I do 
 not comprehend how a man knowing this 
 can persist in denying God. For God is 
 here. Here is no mere blind, self-regula- 
 tive, natural law. Here is the free Genius 
 of the Universal. Here is Wisdom. Ob- 
 serve, if solidified water went on increasing 
 in Weight, and streams froze from beneath 
 upward, the river-beds would remain undis- 
 turbed until the spring-thaws. And do you 
 understand what the consequences would 
 be?" 
 
 " Certainly : the fish would all die." 
 
 " Even so. Here is the wisdom of God. 
 Here is the Deity who modifies the law of 
 Nature for the preservation of his creatures. 
 Our God no longer towers aloft above the 
 waters and their laws. He lives and works 
 within the waters. The law of Nature is 
 broken that Nature may be preserved. 
 There are no more visible miracles ; but all 
 life, beyond a certain point, subsists by a 
 miracle, — the miracle of Genius. The 
 very surface of the earth, whereon we plant 
 and build, is such a natural miracle. Our 
 globe is molten fire inside, and the crust re- 
 mains cool above it. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " I believe I do." 
 
 " And now, my son, you have not to suffer 
 and repent and make atonement under some 
 iron law of Nature, because the man wljp 
 was your father sinned. You are free. 
 Least of all creatures, is man the helpless 
 subject of natural law. He is lord of his 
 fate. Look up ! The world is very bright, 
 and this whole, vast, beauteous world is full 
 of God. Let the bell-ringers, yonder, 
 understand and address him after their own 
 fashion. It is not ours. The churches are 
 but little chambers in the great temple of 
 the universe. Let no man, in my presence, 
 restrict the Highest to one revelation and 
 one mode of worship. God, the great, the 
 holy, is everywhere. It is impossible not to 
 find him. We have him here, out under 
 the broad arch of heaven, and we have 
 him in our own hearts. He who thus feels 
 the breath of the Infinite upon him — he 
 lives a holy Ike. Come to my heart, my 
 son ! You have wrestled manfully ! You 
 are saved ! " 
 
 Roland threw himself into the arms of 
 this man, and kissed his garment, and wept 
 in the fulness of his heart. 
 
 It was night when they disembarked ; but 
 within and around Roland all was ineffably 
 bright. A new man stepped upon the 
 shore. 
 
 Roland and Weidmann walked home in 
 silence. 
 
 With a feeling of release, as if the evil 
 
5 k 20 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 spirit which possessed him had been exor- 
 cised by a spell, Roland entered the house 
 With Weidmann, lie stood at the window, 
 gazing long into the starlit .heaven, and 
 then wrote a letter to Manna. Out of an 
 overflowing heart, he told her that to-day 
 he had found the Highest — a trust, a faith, 
 a rest, such as he had never believed pos- 
 sible. But he could not finish the letter. 
 
 He sought Eric, and begged that he 
 would go back with him to Villa Eden. 
 
 Eric understood him; and the next day 
 they departed together. 
 
 It was a happy coining home, when Eric 
 and Roland arrived at the Villa. 
 
 They found the ladies tranquil and happy. 
 Manna beamed with a twofold rapture. 
 Her brother and her lover had come ; and 
 both brought strength with them and sub- 
 stantial invigoration. 
 
 They had much to tell one another ; yet, 
 when the first greetings were over, they 
 reverted to higher and more general themes. 
 All were struck with surprise, that Manna 
 should have a story so like Roland's to tell. 
 
 Professor Einsiedel had several excep- 
 tions' to take to Roland's communication; 
 but he stifled them. The youth might 
 some time advance another step ; still it was 
 needful for him to have taken this. 
 _ To the story of Manna's experience he 
 listened with satisfaction. He could re- 
 flect that he had helped to establish her 
 self-dependence. 
 
 Sitting with her hand in Eric's, Manna 
 told her tale. 
 
 "It was hard for me to forego the old 
 sacred consolations. Whenever I went to 
 church, I thought of you and of myself. 
 The strong, tremulous swell of the organ 
 speaks so directly to the heart. Those 
 tones are lost to you and me. You have 
 told me that your friends used to deride 
 you as a sentimentalist, because you could 
 not overcome the longing in your soul for 
 those organ-tones ; and now that same de- 
 sire awoke within me when I thought of 
 you. But 'tis vain ! It must be enough 
 for us that the realm of music and of feel- 
 ing is still vast and wide, without the strains 
 of the church-organ. I cling to those noble 
 words, ' My temple are ye.' If the human 
 soul has become the temple of the Holy 
 Ghost, we need no visible temple." 
 
 A spirit of consecration hovered over 
 them as they were now assembled in the 
 vine-clad house. They felt that they were 
 members of the communion which has no 
 name. 
 
 When Eric visited the little town, he was 
 informed by the cooper, now, mine host of 
 
 the " Carp," that the comedy-writer had 
 wanted to make a carnival play out of Son- 
 nenkamp's story, and bring it out in the 
 market-place ; but that he himself had not 
 favored it, and they were going to repre- 
 sent a nobility-mill instead. Commoners 
 in front were to be thrust in above, and 
 noblemen with weapons and shields were to 
 come out below, on the back side. 
 
 He begged Eric to be present at" the car- 
 nival performance next day ; but Eric was 
 not in the mood. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A FULL HOUSE AND FULL DAYS. 
 
 On the following day came ' the Major, 
 and Fräulein Milch, and Lina with her be- 
 trothed. 
 
 It was settled, that, if the snow remained, 
 they were all to have a sleigh-ride to Mat- 
 tenheim ; for they wished to say good-by 
 to Prince Valerian, who was soon to return 
 home. 
 
 It was a day of domestic happiness and 
 cheer. 
 
 Manna said repeatedly, that she had often 
 wondered why they should have imposed 
 this separation upon themselves ; but she 
 now understood that it was better so. 
 
 Fortune smiled upon them. They went 
 to Mattenheim in several large sleighs ; and, 
 on their arrival, Knopf took his young 
 friend, Roland, aside, and gave him a pri- 
 vate letter from Lilian. 
 
 " No one else knew why Roland was so 
 extravagantly gay ; but Knopf smiled quietly 
 to himself. 
 
 Manna and the Professorin were cordially 
 received by Frau Weidmann and her daugh- 
 ters-in-law. It refreshed the htiart to see 
 how full and rich at every stage of exist- 
 ence was the home-life at Mattenheim. 
 
 While Lina expressed her especial satis- 
 faction in the fact, that here at Mattenheim 
 one had five good meals a day, and insisted 
 upon it that love sharpened the appetite, 
 the ladies from Villa Eden thoroughly en- 
 joyed -a glimpse into Frau Weidmann 's 
 housekeeping arrangements. 
 
 The Professorin had known her in her 
 early years, and remembered what a fine 
 appearance had been made by this tall 
 lady, who now always wore a huge pair of 
 spectacles. She, Manna, and Aunt Clau- 
 dine, were moved to reflection and self- 
 examination, as they beheld the woman's 
 active life. All her household were busily 
 employed, and yet it was perfectly quiet 
 and orderly ; and Frau Weidmann dis- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 521 
 
 charged her round of duties without tor- 
 menting herself by needless anxiety. She 
 was proud to show the ladies her whole 
 house, and particularly her great preserve- 
 jars, containing provision not only for the 
 various branches of her own family, but for 
 the poor who have no forethought. She 
 frankly complained that she had not time 
 enough for self-culture, but said smilingly, 
 that it was like the question of driving the 
 birds away from her garden : she must either 
 forego their singing, or good berries and 
 lettuce, as it was impossible to have both. 
 
 Manna learned from Frau Weidmann 
 many particulars of Pranken's life ; of his 
 bearing during his short stay at Matten- 
 heim, as well as the facts generally known 
 at the capital. 
 
 It had been painful to Manna to be ob- 
 liged to deal so harshly with Pranken ; for 
 he had shown himself kind and good, both 
 to her father and herself : but she was now 
 relieved from this trouble also. 
 
 The ladies of Villa Eden were not a little 
 surprised, however, to hear at Mattenheim 
 of the great commotion in the New World ; 
 for papers and despatches had come with 
 Lilian's letter from America, and Weid- 
 mann could not withhold from them his con- 
 viction that the new year would bring the 
 great crisis of the century, perhaps of all 
 modern history. Were it possible to break 
 up the Union, and to elevate slavery, which 
 had been tolerated hitherto as a species of 
 smuggling, into a prominent article of state- 
 policy, tne cause of freedom and humanity, 
 for which they were all laboring, would be 
 so fearfully injured and impeded, that the 
 petty efforts of individuals would seem of 
 no account. 
 
 Relief from this dark apprehension was 
 experienced by all the company, as Weid- 
 mann read aloud a passage from his 
 nephew's letter. 
 
 Doctor Fritz wrote, — 
 
 " Surpassing all others in the greatness 
 and majesty of his bearing, bright as the 
 brightest example of classic times, we have 
 the noble Seward : and Germans ought 
 especially to honor him, for he has publicly 
 declared, that, wherever the Germans go, 
 it is their task to clear the way for liberty, 
 and that the true Germanic spirit is 'the 
 spirit of freedom and toleration. This man, 
 who had been named as a Presidential can- 
 didate along with Lincoln, and even before, 
 when he saw that Lincoln's chances were 
 better than his own, resolved that there 
 should be no split in the Republican vote, 
 and became a most zealous agitator in Lin- 
 coln's behalf." 
 
 Weidmann paused, adding the remark 
 that Prince Valerian, who was now leaving 
 for his native land, would there find a simi- 
 lar state of transition. 
 
 The last remark was lost upon Manna, 
 who said to Eric in 'an undertone, — 
 
 " Oh, our father ! Do you not think that 
 he will take part in this struggle ? " 
 
 " I do : and that, too, we must bear." 
 
 The Prince departed. At the last mo- 
 ment, Lina and Eric had to sing, " We meet 
 again." He deeply regretted that he could 
 not take Knopf with him ; but the latter had 
 promised Lilian that he would come to 
 America, and do nomething there. He did 
 not specify what it was to be. 
 
 After the Prince had left, they drew closer 
 together. Roland, Manna, and Eric were 
 sitting in Roland's room when the latter 
 said, — 
 
 " Manna, if it comes to war in our native 
 land, I shall go there. I have decided, and 
 no one can deter me." 
 
 The words were upon Manna's lips, 
 " And what if our father is fighting on the 
 other side ? " but she checked herself, and 
 only said, — 
 
 " If you go to the New World, I shall go 
 with you." , 
 
 " And then Eric will go too. I have 
 talked with Herr Weidmann about it. He 
 has consented ; and the thing which he 
 sanctions is, beyond question, right and 
 safe. But I have promised him that I will 
 not go until he says, ' Now is the time.' " 
 
 Manna was comforted. She saw that 
 her brother's life was in safe keeping. 
 
 On their way home, Aunt Claudine ex- 
 pressed the general feeling, when she 
 said, — 
 
 " It seems to me as if these days had 
 been all music and feasting." 
 
 " Yes," cried Lina ; " one could eat there 
 enough for the whole year." 
 
 And they drove on their way laughing. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 FETTERED HANDS UPLIFTED. 
 
 The great law of our time, that of the 
 unity of all existence, asserted itself with 
 peculiar and perpetual force in the busy 
 home at Mattenheim. A man of mature 
 years had deliberately concentrated his 
 thoughts upon the movement in the New 
 World ; and the destiny of a youth was 
 bound up in the same. 
 
 Papers and despatches from America 
 came thicker and faster. 
 
522 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 They lived a twofold life, immersed in 
 pressing and manifold business here, but in- 
 tent, meanwhile, upon the sharp crisis so 
 rapidly approaching in a remote quarter of 
 the world. 
 
 Roland devoured the letters and journals 
 in which the so-called slavery-question was 
 discussed. Doctor Fritz wrote doubtfully 
 of Lincoln. The man's nature was so sim- 
 ple, and his faith in men's goodness so 
 thorough, that he feared he would not be 
 decided enough with the chivalry of the 
 South. • 
 
 For the first time, Roland heard the 
 slaveholders called chivalry ; and Weidmann 
 declared that it was no mere form of speech, 
 but a perfectly explicit term. The slave- 
 owners wanted to live merely for the nobler 
 passions, as they were called : other men 
 must toil for their subsistence, and even for 
 their luxuries. This is the true feudal 
 spirit, which looks upon labor as something 
 humiliating and disgraceful, whereas, in 
 reality, man's only true nobleness consists in 
 labor. 
 
 Two books exercised a powerful influence 
 upon Roland's mind. He read " Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin " for the first time, and wept 
 over it, but presently roused himself, and 
 asked, — 
 
 " How is this ? Shall we point the 
 scourged and oppressed to a reward in the 
 next world, where the master will be pun- 
 ished and the slave elevated ? But who 
 can compensate him for the torment he has 
 endured here ? Is it not as it was with 
 Claus ? Who could indemnify him for the 
 captivity he had to undergo before he was 
 pronounced innocent ? " 
 
 Very different was the effect produced 
 upon the young man's mind by a book of 
 Friedrich Kapp's, entitled " Slavery in 
 America," which had grown up out of a 
 dense mass of previously accumulated ma- 
 terial, and, by a remarkable coincidence, 
 appeared at precisely this time. 
 
 At first, Roland could not comprehend 
 how it was possible for a man to give so 
 clear and lifelike a picture of facts so re- 
 volting. When he came to the ensuing 
 passage, he Avept aloud. 
 
 " The owners of the slave-ships are al- 
 most always foreigners, — Spaniards, Por- 
 tuguese, and, alas ! " here followed a dash 
 that was like a dajr^er to the reader, — alas ! 
 even Germans." 
 
 Everywhere, by day and by night, Ro- 
 land talked of what was agitating his soul ; 
 and, for the first time, he felt something like 
 distrust of Benjamin Franklin. He learned, 
 indeed, that Franklin was president of the 
 
 Abolition Society in Philadelphia, but, also, 
 that he, like the other great heroes of the 
 American War for Independence, in his 
 earnest desire for unanimity at the time the 
 Union was founded, had trusted to the 
 expectation that slavery would be extin- 
 guished within a lifetime by the mere in- 
 crease of free labor. 
 
 This hope had proved deceptive, and Ro- 
 land recalled with anguish that remark of 
 Theodore Parker's, — 
 
 " All the great charters of humanity have 
 been written in blood." 
 
 Often did Roland stand thoughtfully be- 
 fore a picture of Ary Scheffer's, which hung 
 in the large sitting-room. It represented 
 the adoration of Jesus ; and there was a 
 negro in it, stretching out his fettered 
 arms toward the redeeming and consoling 
 Saviour, with a most affecting expression. 
 For two thousand years, this race had been 
 extending its fettered hands toward the 
 redemptive thought of mankind. Why had 
 this lasted so long ? 
 
 To Weidmann, Roland confessed what 
 was weighing on his heart ; and Weidmann 
 succeeded in changing his sorrow into joy, 
 that the time had now come in which these 
 things would have an end. He was pecu- 
 liarly severe upon those, who, like senti- 
 mental criminals, represent sin and crime 
 as evil, and yet say, " There is no help for it. 
 So it has been, and so it must be." 
 
 Goeliiie's verses now occurred to Roland, 
 and he repeated them to Weidmann, who 
 said, — 
 
 " It is the free man's inherited privilege 
 to see absolute perfection in no man. Like 
 Goethe, the Americans boast in having no 
 mediajval conditions to overcome ; but they 
 have inherited slavery, which many even 
 declare to be the natural condition of the 
 laboring classes." . 
 
 Weidmann gave Roland Abraham Lin- 
 coln's speech at the Cooper Institute in 
 New York. 
 
 Roland was requested to read it aloud ; 
 but his voice choked, and his utterance was 
 painfully agitated, when he came to the 
 words, — 
 
 " Were we even to withhold our votes, 
 Republicans, you may be sure the Demo- 
 crats would not be satisfied. We could not 
 stop there. We must leave off calling sla- 
 very a wrong, and justify it loudly and un- 
 conditionally ; we must pull down our Free 
 State Constitutions ; the whole atmos- 
 phere must be disinfected from all taint of 
 opposition to slavery, before they will cease 
 to believe that all their troubles proceed 
 from us. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 523 
 
 " And since the Southerners pretend 
 that slavery is a righteous institution, honor- 
 able to mankind, the logical inference is, 
 that it ought universally to be recognized as 
 a moral good and a social blessing, and 
 everywhere introduced. 
 
 " Our sense of duty forbids such a 
 thought. And, if so, then let us stand by 
 our duty fearlessly and effectively. Let us 
 be diverted by none of those sophistical 
 contrivances wherewith we are so industri- 
 ously plied and belabored, — contrivances 
 such as seeking for some middle ground be- 
 tween the right and wrong, vain as the 
 search for a man who should be neither a 
 living man nor a dead man, — such as a 
 policy of 1 don't care ' on a question about 
 which all true men do care, — such as 
 Union appeals beseeching true Union men 
 to yield to Disunionists, reversing the di- 
 vine rule, and calling not sinners but the 
 righteous to repentance. 
 
 "Neither let us be slandered from our 
 duty by false accusations against us ; nor 
 frightened from it by menaces of destruc- 
 tion to the Government, nor of dungeons to 
 ourselves. Let us have faith that right 
 makes might, and, in that faith, let us, to 
 the end, dare to do our duty as we under- 
 stand it." 
 
 Tears rose to Roland's eyes. He glanced 
 up at the picture where the slave was 
 stretching out his fettered hands ; and 
 within him rose the words, " Thou art free." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 IN THE BOND OF BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 " The bees we brought from Europe arc 
 flying out into the spring air," wrote Lilian 
 from New York. 
 
 At Mattenheim, also, spring was close at 
 hand. Out-door work became pressing ; 
 sunshine and hail followed one another in 
 swift succession ; but the buds were swell- 
 ing, and verdure refreshed the eye. In 
 the new shoots, or sleeping eyes, as they are 
 called, choice grafts were set, that the tree 
 henceforward might bear richer fruit. The 
 same thing Avas to take place elsewhere. 
 
 One evening, when they were all together 
 at Mattenheim, Weidmann read a letter 
 from Doctor Fritz, in which he described 
 the base league of the so-called Knights of 
 the Golden Circle. A network of tlieir 
 societies extended over all . the Southern 
 States, and they had their accomplices even 
 in the North. * 
 
 They conducted a kind of criminal court 
 
 by means of signs ; and murders and secret 
 executions without number were accom- 
 plished by their means. 
 
 He added that if one wanted to realize 
 the entire range of man's capabilities, both 
 for virtue and vice, he had but to offset 
 against this band a character like Seward's. 
 
 While they were still pondering upon this 
 intelligence, a letter with the royal seal ar- 
 rived, containing expressions of high con- 
 sideration for Weidmann, together with the 
 Prince's request that he would inform young 
 Sonnenkamp Banfield that no obstacle 
 existed to his entering the military service, 
 and that especial pains would be taken to 
 show the young man, personally, all due 
 regard." 
 
 " It cannot be," said Roland with a fixed 
 look. " Too late ! " 
 
 He expressed his gratitude, however, for 
 the kindness of the Prince, and added with 
 an accent of deep pain, that it was a com- 
 fort to know that the privilege of fellowship 
 was restored to him. 
 
 " You shall have one of a different kind," 
 said Weidmann. " You shall be received 
 with your brother and friend, the Herr 
 Captain, into our Order. Strictly speaking, 
 you are too young ; but we will show you 
 how much we honor you," 
 
 In the evening, it rained steadily ; and as 
 Weidmann lay beside the window, gazing 
 out upon the landscape, he called Roland to 
 his side, and said, — 
 
 " These are pleasant hours, my son, in 
 which we can look out of the window, and 
 know that the rain is quickening and re- 
 freshing all things. A spirit who has 
 awakened and refreshed the souls of many 
 men, a benefactor who has renovated the 
 being of numbers of his fellow-creatures, 
 must experience in tranquil and elevated 
 hours a similar joy. Rejoice that this hap- 
 piness may be yours also. If I am not 
 here to welcome you back from the war, 
 know that I feel this on your behalf, and be 
 thankful for it." 
 
 " Is the crisis, then, so near ? " 
 
 "Yes. I have by me a letter from my 
 nephew, and I tell you that the time has 
 come." 
 
 Roland shuddered. He seized Weid- 
 mann's arm, and held it fast. 
 
 Weidmann continued, — 
 
 " My nephew writes, it is true, that they 
 think the war will not last long ; and that 
 those who have enlisted hope to return to 
 their homes in a few weeks. I think other- 
 wise. You will be quite early enough for 
 the great struggle. Rejoice that you are 
 I prepared for it beforehand." 
 
524 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Roland hastened to Eric ; and the latter 
 said, — 
 
 " Give me your hand, Roland : I go with 
 you ! " 
 
 Adams approached them with flashing 
 eyes, and cried, — 
 
 " We will all go, — all." 
 
 They embraced one another, as though 
 the world's deliverance had arrived. 
 
 They passed a sleepless night ; and, on 
 the morrow, Roland and Eric rode to the 
 Villa'; They made known their resolution, 
 and 'Manna responded, — 
 
 " I shall go too." 
 
 But she gave Eric a look which was 
 perfectly intelligible to him ; for it said, " You 
 approve, then, of the son's taking the field 
 against the father." 
 
 Eric told her that he had sent by way of 
 Paris a notice to the Confederate journal 
 which Sonnenkamp had designated, couched 
 in terms which he alone would understand, 
 to the effect that Roland would join the 
 land-forces of the Union, hoping that he 
 should not encounter his father, who was 
 probably in the naval service. 
 
 Eric found it difficult to restrain Roland, 
 and to convince him that days must elapse 
 before their departure. They went togeth- 
 er to the Major, who said, — 
 
 " It is all right ! Now you must join ! 
 Brother Weidmann told me long since that 
 you were to be initiated before engaging in 
 this philanthropic struggle. And now let 
 me tell you that our bond is especially 
 effective in war. You will receive a sign ; 
 and, if you make that sign, no enemy, even 
 though his weapon were raised against you, 
 can kill you face to face ; and you cannot 
 kill any one who gives you this sign. Yes, 
 my dear brothers, I must begin to call you 
 so, all the good in this world has been 
 wrought by Freemasons ; for those who have 
 wrought it have all been Freemasons at 
 heart, if not in reality. But I'll say no 
 more. Brother Weidmann will tell you all. 
 Now go ! I must be off to the castle. It 
 has come at last." 
 
 Once up at the castle, the Major wan- 
 dered about, saying to himself, over and 
 over again, — 
 
 " If the Builder of all the worlds will 
 only suffer me to hold together ! I want 
 this and one thing more, and then I shall 
 be satisfied ! " 
 
 Men are coming and going ; workmen 
 are hammering ; the Major's long cher- 
 ished wish is fulfilled. There is to be a 
 great Masonic celebration at the castle, and 
 
 what a celebration ! Eric, Roland, and 
 Adams are to be received into the order. 
 
 From all the surrounding country, men 
 came flocking to the castle. The Major 
 went with Roland, the Architect with 
 Adams, the Banker, who, with his daughter- 
 in-law, was visiting at Villa Eden, accom- 
 panied Eric. At the castle, the three 
 separated, and each was taken into a room 
 by himself. Presently the Major came to 
 Roland, and took away all the money and 
 jewelry he had about him. Shortly after, 
 men appeared who bandaged the eyes of each 
 of the candidates. They were then con- 
 ducted through long passages, up stairs and 
 down, until they seemed to emerge into the 
 open air. At last, they were told to stop, 
 and sternly reproved for venturing to in- 
 trude here ; but they remained firm. 
 
 Roland was comforted by the sound of 
 Weidmann's voice, although it seemed to 
 come from a great distance. The latter 
 said that their being led blindibld by 
 friends who saw, signified that they must 
 learn to trust those who were pledged to 
 afford them guidance and protection in life. 
 Voices now called out, that it was time to 
 removed the bandages. 
 
 " No," cried a powerful voice : " Roland, 
 I cannot admit you." 
 
 Roland did not know this voice. What 
 did it mean ? What was required of him ? 
 
 " Back, back ! you stand on the brink 
 of an abyss ! " was shouted on all sides. 
 
 Roland's knees shook. The first voice 
 continued, — 
 
 " Roland, are you ready to renounce all 
 that you now possess, or will ever call your 
 own, to become naked, poor, and helpless 
 as you were by nature ? Will you relin- 
 quish all your wealth, whether justly or 
 unjustly acquired ? Speak ! " 
 
 " Speak, speak ! " cried a chorus of 
 voices. " Will you become poor ? " 
 
 " Speak ! " the voices repeated ; and the 
 question was asked for the third time, ; - Will 
 you renounce all, and become naked, poor, 
 and helpless ? " 
 
 " No. I will not ! " 
 
 A pause ensued : then Weidmann said in 
 a re-assuring tone, " And why not ? " 
 
 "Because it is not my duty, and I have 
 no right to relinquish what was intrusted 
 to me, — to transfer my responsibilities even 
 to the highest and noblest. I am required 
 myself to watch and work." 
 
 " Where is your obedience ? Can you 
 be a soldier, a fighter in the cause of hu- 
 manity, and not obey ? Do you know what 
 obedience is ? " 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOU 
 
 SE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 525 
 
 " I think I do. I am ordered, for my 
 part of the great campaign, to hold a certain 
 post, and I pledge my life that I will be 
 faithful without knowing why I am stationed 
 just there. This is a soldier's duty, as I 
 understand it. But in life it seems to me 
 different. What right have you, more than 
 another, to say, ' Intrust your possessions 
 to us, that we may dispose of them as we 
 think fit ' ? Here I stand, with I know not 
 whom about me : I only know the voice of 
 my noble friend Weidmann, and him I 
 trust. Wherever he is, I will take my 
 place at his side, and stand there blindfold. 
 My eyes are bandaged ; but I can look with- 
 in, and I know that I am in duty bound, 
 according to my strength and my wisdom, 
 with the free assistance of others, to make 
 the best of my life and endowments ; but I 
 will not give myself and my life away blind- 
 fold. Take me back ! Reject me if I am 
 wrong ; but I cannot do otherwise." 
 
 " Off with the bandages ! Off with the 
 bandages ! " was now vociferated for the 
 third time by the whole assembly. 
 
 The strains of an organ were heard in 
 the distance. Roland's bandage was re- 
 moved, and a veil thrown over his head, 
 that he might not be dazzled by the light. 
 
 When the veil was removed, he stood 
 with Eric on one side and Adams on the 
 other. 
 
 Weidmann spoke the words of initiation ; 
 and Roland, kneeling, humbly took the oath, 
 with Eric's hand resting on his right 
 shoulder, and Adams's on his left. Swords 
 clashed, and in the distance singing was 
 heard with an organ accompaniment. 
 
 The powerful singer whom we heard at 
 Herr Endlich's entertainment, and at Wolfs- 
 garten, sang here in the arched hall a pa- 
 thetic air in a rich bass voice ; and all hearts 
 were gently soothed. 
 
 Roland arose. Weidmann kissed him, 
 and afterwards embraced his brother Eric 
 on the right, and his brother Adams on the 
 left. They received the signs ; and the so- 
 called sign of distress, in particular, moved 
 Roland deeply. 
 
 Eric, Roland, and Adams were now led 
 out of the hall, and received back their 
 money and jewels, the Major remarking, — 
 
 " You did bravely, young — forgive me 
 — my brother ! " 
 
 On returning to the hall they all rose ; 
 and Weidmann, bidding Roland and Eric 
 take Adams's hand, began as follows, — 
 
 " Here, while we clasp our dusky brother 
 in our arms, you see what we are ! Through 
 the jubilations of our century, a sound 
 pierces, which, in time to come, shall be 
 
 heard no more : it is the sound of clash- 
 ing chains, of the fetters wherewith our 
 fellow-men have been bound. Henceforth, 
 these chains shall be but an emblem, a mel- 
 ancholy symbol. We who are men, and 
 who want to be men fully and entirely, we 
 take one another by the hand, and form a 
 living chain. My brothers, you will be told, 
 and, perchance, will tell yourselves, that our 
 Order is antiquated, without significance in 
 these modern times; but I tell you it will 
 never be antiquated, never insignificant, for 
 they who are dedicated to the service of 
 the free Spirit must ever hold one another 
 in a living clasp. 
 
 " We know the deficiencies of our Order. 
 It is a matter of great difficulty to found 
 an association firmly upon a universal 
 thought apart from any historical basis. 
 This is our principal disadvantage as com- 
 pared with the Church. Hence enthusiasts 
 and hypocrites seek for an historical founda- 
 tion ; nevertheless, our Order is the strong- 
 hold of virtue ; and its unity is doubly 
 formidable in that it is a league of free men ; 
 for free men will not suffer themselves to be 
 bound. Yet our league, were its name 
 never mentioned, would have a most im- 
 portant bearing upon the solution of the 
 social problem, as it is called, of which the 
 slavery question is only a part. And it is 
 the thing Ave want, not the name. No de- 
 liverance was ever wrought by mere calcu- 
 lation, and there can be no permanent 
 effect produced without the co-operation of 
 love. The lust of pleasure and the lust of 
 gain would seem to be the essential charac- 
 teristics of our time ; yet I, and we all, pro- 
 claim aloud, Great is our century ! Europe, 
 with her ancient culture and her waning 
 nobility, is endeavoring to lay all men under 
 an obligation to labor : America and Russia, 
 to render all labor free. Ever since I be- 
 held the great millennial wave bearing down 
 upon me, I have lived a new and happy 
 life. I have been filled with holy confi- 
 dence ; and, all unseen, our league is work- 
 ing towards the same end. 
 
 " Two principles are contending in this 
 world, egoism and humanity. We meet 
 selfishness by benevolence. The more thou 
 servest others in love, the freer art thou. 
 The more thou givest of thyself, the richer 
 art thou. To every man we say, ' First 
 free thyself from servitude/ Great things 
 in this world come from small beginnings. 
 To every one of you and to myself I say, 
 ' Begin by abolishing slavery in thyself ! ' 
 We have all a slave within us, a slave to pre- 
 cedent, to inertia, to obsequiousness. Free 
 this slave within,, and then wilt thou be 
 
526 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 worthy to emancipate the slaves around thee. 
 And now, my new brothers, consider this. 
 As the signs of intelligence which you have 
 received are not verbal, but visible, sensible 
 motions, as our own mutual understanding 
 supersedes and transcends speech, so is it 
 with the idea of our Order. It is some- 
 thing older and broader than all single re- 
 ligious associations. We seek repose and 
 peace in labor and trade. To our doctrine 
 each may give his own private interpreta- 
 tion, as every man speaks in his own pecu- 
 liar voice, which can never be exactly imi- 
 tated. The deed alone, the free, righteous, 
 noble deed, cannot be explained away, can- 
 not be misunderstood, cannot be affected by 
 any individual. Ours is a brotherhood of 
 noble deeds." 
 
 Turning to Roland he said, — 
 " To you, my young brother, much has 
 been given ; and you must say with your 
 brother here, so rich in intellectual gifts, 
 and this your other brother, now armed for 
 free labor, ' What I am, and what I have, 
 I have not of myself, and so I have it not 
 for myself.' Self-sacrifice is self-exaltation. 
 Your own highest good is the good of the 
 whole world. What you do, do not with 
 the hope of reward from another ; but be 
 yourself your own reward. A revolution is 
 now taking place in the minds of men, such 
 as there must have been wrought when they 
 first learned the fact of the motion of the 
 planet on which we live. Mankind, who 
 had always known slavery, and believed 
 that its continuance was right, were long 
 unable to conceive a different state of things ; 
 and it was thus with the authors of that 
 great sacred book. I say, mankind could 
 not conceive of labor as other than a dis- 
 grace, a curse pronounced upon the race. 
 But now, not by any new and external reve- 
 lation, but through a free and natural unfold- 
 ing of knowledge, we are enabled to get be- 
 yond this view. A new age is beginning. 
 Labor is no longer a disgrace, but an honor ; 
 no longer a curse, but a blessing. No for- 
 mal religion can sanctify labor ; for it be- 
 longs not to the other world, but eternally 
 to this. Were a medal to be struck to 
 commemorate our century, it should bear 
 upon the face the symbol of free labor, and 
 upon the reverse, that of the love of nature. 
 Neither has yet been represented by art. 
 Our idea has not yet attained to many- 
 hued loveliness, and to a picturesque variety ; 
 for philanthropy is colorless like pure light. 
 Walk therefore in the light, and die for the 
 love of your kind. You have lived in the 
 light ; live ever so, and in the eternal ideas 
 of self-sacrifice and brotherly love." 
 
 Deeply moved, Eric made a brief reply. 
 
 Roland, too, was called upon, but could 
 only say, — 
 
 " My brother and teacher has expressed 
 all that I feel." 
 
 Adams also offered a few words. He 
 would try to show himself worthy the hon- 
 orable brotherhood which had been con- 
 ferred upon him. 
 
 The three now seated themselves in the 
 ranks of the brotherhood, and took part in 
 the transaction of some urgent and exist- 
 ing business. 
 
 With ready and practised eloquence, the 
 Major's host, the Grand Master, informed 
 them that the Pope had condemned all Ma- 
 sonic leagues ; and he read a protest to be 
 adopted by the present lodge. 
 
 Weidmann asked if any brother desired 
 to offer any comment, and the Doctor came 
 forward, and said, — 
 
 " I move the rejection of this protest, and 
 also the open acknowledgment of that no- 
 toriously false principle with which we are 
 reproached in the bull of excommunication. 
 I find Masonry as wordy at home as it is 
 dastardly abroad ; for dastardly it is, not 
 to be perfectly open. It is all true ! We 
 recognize and acknowledge man to be mor- 
 ally complete, independent of any positive 
 church ; not necessarily hostile to the church, 
 but independent of it. But this prevari- 
 cating, and ducking under ecclesiastical 
 phrases, this spiritless sailing under false 
 colors," — 
 
 " A little less vehemently, if you please," 
 observed Weidmann. 
 
 Quietly, but firmly, the Doctor continued : 
 
 " I move that the protest be rejected." 
 
 The Grand Master gazed helplessly about. 
 He, with all his honors on his head, bring 
 forward a proposition, and not have it ac- 
 cepted ! — 
 
 The Doctor at length begged Eric, as 
 one not yet bound by the traditions preval- 
 ing here, to explain his meaning more pre- 
 cisely. 
 
 Eric arose and said, that, though strongly 
 inclined to agree with the Doctor, he was 
 not quite sure where right lay. He could 
 only permit himself to quote the words of a 
 noble spirit now passed away. Clodwig 
 had seen, as in a vision upon his death-bed, 
 the combatants of the present day dividing 
 into two hostile camps, one of which ral- 
 lied around the Pope, the other around the 
 standard of free thought. A third party, 
 agreeing partly with the former, and partly 
 with the latter, he thought impossible. 
 
 The protest was rejected ; but the Doc- 
 tor's proposition, openly to acknowledge the 
 justice of the Papal animadversions, was 
 also set aside. At the close of the celebra- 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 527 
 
 tion the brethren sat down to a banquet. 
 Roland was once more welcomed by the 
 Banker with peculiar heartiness. 
 
 The youth asked the Major in a low 
 voice, why Professor Einsiedel and Knopf 
 were not members of the order. 
 
 " They are natural members of the asso- 
 ciation, answered the Major. 
 
 As they left the castle by the light of the 
 full moon, Roland said to the Major, — 
 
 " To have lived a day like this makes 
 death seem easy." 
 
 " I say with Claus," answered the Major, 
 " we won't look for death till the very 
 last." 
 
 And so their high-strung mood passed 
 over into merriment. 
 
 On the following morning, the Major 
 begged for the Banker's advice on a matter 
 bearing decisively upon his life ; and in 
 which the Banker could assist him more 
 than any one else. 
 
 The Banker declared himself ready to 
 render any assistance. 
 
528 
 
 THE COUNTRY-IIOUSE ON THE EHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A VOLUNTARY SACRIFICE AND A FULFIL- 
 MENT OF DESTINY. 
 
 Flowers of all sorts were blooming in 
 the conservatories, buds upon the artisti- 
 cally trained espalier trees were opening, 
 and the park was resounding with songs 
 of the birds, restlessly chirping and Hying 
 about at this time of wooing and mating. 
 
 Never before had Eric enjoyed the dawn 
 of spring so intensely as now. He was 
 filled with the joy of love, and the heavy 
 burdens which Fate had laid upon him 
 seemed like an accident, a dream, which he 
 could all at once shake off. 
 
 Early in the morning he would stroll in 
 the park ; a peculiar feeling of joyousness 
 would come over him at the thought that 
 Spring would soon reign over this, his own 
 estate. Why should not these trees, these 
 meadows, these plantations put on new 
 bloom and verdure, now that they were 
 his ? And while wondering whether it 
 woald really ever be his lot to pass here an 
 industrious and peaceful life, he could not 
 free himself from a feeling of compassion 
 for Sonnenkamp. The man had planted 
 and fostered all this — where was he now ? 
 
 Manna and the Professorin were walking 
 with the Banker's daughter-in-law, who 
 had been drawn thither by her desire to 
 know Roland's sister, and her much 
 praised mother-in-law. The three ladies 
 had quickly formed a league of friendship, 
 based on the foundation of a fine and lib- 
 eral culture. Yet, though the inmates of 
 the Villa were so happy together, eacji one 
 harbored the restless longing to depart. 
 
 The ladies entered the conservatory. 
 
 A wave of aromatic perfumes floated 
 towards them, and flowed around them. 
 Their ey«s were refreshed by the thousand 
 hues of the newly-opened blossoms. 
 
 The Professorin spoke of the rest she 
 should find in watching over the culture of 
 t he sc plants. 
 
 Manna expressed her intention of devot- 
 ing herself, in the days that were to come, 
 to botany, both theoretical and practical. 
 The Banker's daughter-in-law promised 
 soon to do the same. 
 
 With a feeling of pleasurable excitement, 
 they sat in the green-house, where to-day, 
 for the first time, the great windows had 
 been opened. Manna sent for her harp, 
 and they found that the Banker's daughter- 
 in-law could sing several songs of which the 
 harpist knew the accompaniment. It was 
 an hour filled with the pure joy of exist- 
 ence, untroubled by one thought of the 
 past, by one anxiety for the morrow. 
 
 Manna had caused a beautiful myrtle-tree 
 to be placed on the table, wishing to weave 
 from its boughs a crown for Lina, whose 
 marriage was to be solemnized almost im- 
 mediately. As she sat thus, with the 
 blooming branches before her, Weidmann 
 entered, and said joyously, — 
 
 "This tree bears leaves and blossoms 
 enough for threefold bridal wreaths, and I 
 hope they will be worn." 
 
 Then he told them that he came as the 
 Major's ambassador, to summon the ladies' 
 attention to the story of Fraulein Milch. 
 
 The Major came in with the Fraulein, 
 who, casting a strange look at the Banker's 
 daughter-in-law, said, — 
 
 " You are to be present too." 
 
 The Major, having called thither the 
 Banker and Professor Einsiedel, declared 
 his readiness to yield to the instance of his 
 friends, and reside at the Villa, in order to 
 superintend and keep everything in good 
 condition ; but only with the stipulation that 
 Frciulein Milch should at last be released 
 from her vow ; stating that she was ready, 
 after having related her life-history, to sub- 
 mit to the verdict of their friends, the Banker 
 and the Professor. 
 
 "Another story!" moaned the Pro- 
 fessor. He dreaded the idea of pronounc- 
 ing a judgment which was wholly without 
 results, as in the case of Sonnenkamp. 
 
 The Major, however, begged so urgently 
 that he consented, and Fraulein Milch 
 began : — 
 
 " You, Herr Professor, are just like my 
 father, and yet you are very different ! He, 
 too, was a learned man, but in a very dif- 
 ferent sphere. 
 
 " You have many of his habits, and, if you 
 accompany me to the altar, it will seem as 
 though my father were with me, although 
 you are much younger. And you, my 
 friends, — you, Frau Professorin, who have 
 honored me before knowing my life, and 
 you, Fraulein Manna, who, after conquer- 
 ing a strong prejudice, have given me your 
 rich love, — you shall now be made really 
 acquainted with me. But you (turning to 
 the Banker), you will best be able to pass 
 sentence upon me ; for you are a Jew, as I 
 am a Jewess." \ 
 
 All were astounded. 
 
 Fräulein Milch waited quietly until her 
 auditors had recovered from their amaze- 
 ment, then continued : — 
 
 "I am the daughter of a learned Hebrew, 
 and an only daughter. I had one brother, 
 of whom we shall hear later. My father 
 was a noble and pious man ; he was couri- 
 ered a scholar of great discernment, with 
 fine polemical gifts ; but in life he was 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 529 
 
 childishly simple and — why should I not 
 say it? — shiftless. He read the sacred 
 books from morning till night. » 
 
 " My mother sprang from a wealthy 
 house, had once been blessed in early child- 
 hood by the hands of Moses Mendelssohn ; 
 from this it was predicted that she would 
 one day marry a man of great knowledge. 
 This proved true. According to the will 
 of her parents she became the wife of my 
 father, on account of his piety and learn- 
 ing. 
 
 " Such was the way in which the opulent 
 Israelites formerly -exhibited their grati- 
 tude and respect for a learned man of their 
 faith, as the Christians bestowed gifts 
 upon the convents. The Jews could found 
 no establishments. They had no protec- 
 tion ; all their goods were movable, and 
 thus they devoted a portion of their wealth 
 to the support of our scientific men. 
 
 My mother's whole being was absorbed 
 in her adoration of my father. The quiet 
 and uniformity of life ; the calm content 
 which reigned in my parental abode ; how 
 the poor were fed ; how our entire exist- 
 ence was nought save the pause between 
 one pious deed and another, between one 
 festival and another, no one present can 
 know but you (turning towards the 
 Banker), you alone can conceive of it. I 
 myself often recall it as a dream. In win- 
 ter, when my father was unable to go out, 
 the community came to my father, to unite 
 together in prayer in his study, and, while 
 a little child, I used to hear much discourse 
 on worldly events. 
 
 " What did we know of the world ? 
 
 '* The world belonged to the officials out- 
 side, to the soldiers. They were, in our 
 eyes, beings moving in a fabulous realm, 
 into which we could, never enter. 
 
 " My brother, who was a handsome man 
 — he resembled Herr Dournay — formed 
 a friendship with a young drummer named 
 Grassier, who was billetted in our house. 
 We were all made perfectly happy by the 
 reverence which this youth showed towards 
 my father, whom he regarded as a saint, 
 and by his gentleness and timidity when in 
 his presence. I yet remember, as though 
 it were but yesterday, how I stood on the 
 steps, turning round and round with my 
 hand one of the knobs of the balustrade, 
 when the drummer said to me : — 
 
 " ' Yes, Rosalie, when you are grown up, 
 and I have become an officer, I will come 
 back and take you away with me.' 
 
 "He went away drumming ; but I kept 
 hearing those strange words in the sound 
 of the drum, and still stood on the steps, 
 twirling the knob, while the whole world 
 
 seemed to whirl with me. But I beg par- 
 don, I am growing too prolix." 
 
 " No, go into details as much as you 
 like." 
 
 " But I cannot, 11 replied Fräulein Milch. 
 "Well, then, they went to the war. My 
 brother fell. Conrad came back. He had 
 become an ensign, and he brought back to 
 my father my brothers little prayer-book, 
 its cover and leaves pierced by a ball. My 
 father and niy mother and I sat on the 
 ground, mourning for seven days. Conrad 
 came and sat with us : he honored our 
 foreign observances. 
 
 "Father seated himself again among his 
 sacred books ; but, whereas he used for- 
 merly to read with a low, humming sound, 
 he now spoke the words aloud and with 
 violence. He seemed obliged to put a con- 
 straint upon his thoughts, which would go 
 out after his son. 
 
 " Time gradually healed our wounds. My 
 brother had long been at rest in his grave, 
 — who can say where ? Conrad had returned 
 to his home. I was seventeen. It was on 
 Easter eve ; we had solemnized the Passover, 
 and my father discoursed much on the liber- 
 ation from servitude, in commemoration of 
 which we keep Easter, and lamented the 
 oppression beneath which we were sighing 
 still. He loved Jesus' heartily and warmly, 
 and only bewailed unceasingly the misuse 
 of his name as an authority for the misery 
 into which we, members of his race, were 
 plunged. That night I heard him say that 
 our great and wise Rabbi*, Moses ben 
 Maimon, had taught that Jesus had over- 
 thrown heathen idolatry ; that he was not 
 Messias, but his fore-runner ! 
 
 " It was late at night ere we went to rest. 
 I slept in a room adjoining that of my 
 parents. Thus I heard my father say to 
 my mother : — 
 
 " ' How wretched we Jews are ! there is 
 that splendid man, so loyal, so good-hearted, 
 Conrad Grassier, returned. He has worked 
 his way up to a captaincy, and retired on a 
 majors pension, and now here he comes 
 and asks for our Rosalie. If the good man 
 were only of our faith, if he were a Jew, 
 how gladly would I give him my child ! I 
 could not desire a better husband for her ; 
 but, as it is, it cannot be, and God forgive 
 my sin in thinking of it ! 1 
 
 " I heard this from my chamber, and that 
 night, though I was still under my parents 1 
 roof, my spirit was already far away, out 
 into the wide world, where the officers lived, 
 and the soldiers, and those who owned it. 
 
 " Father had nothing against Conrad if it 
 had not been for that one thing. A voice 
 within me repeated this all night long. 
 
530 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE OK THE RHINE. 
 
 And in the morning, while my father and 
 mother were in the synagogue, I sat alone 
 with my prayer-book. See this little 
 prayer-book. It is a devotional manual for 
 women, composed by my father — but my 
 thoughts were not upon it. How still it was ! 
 1 was alone in the house. No one was to 
 be seen in the streets, for the whole com- 
 munity was at the synagogue. I seated 
 myself in the middle of the room ; I did not 
 wish to look out of the window ; Conrad 
 would surely be passing by. 
 
 " But how did he look ? How wonderful 
 that he had kept that promise made to me 
 in my childhood ! What had he become ? 
 How would I seem to him? 
 
 " Then, I cannot tell how it was, but as I 
 was standing at the window, looking out, I 
 saw Conrad, grown into a noble-looking 
 man. I withdrew from the window, but 
 then came footsteps on the stairway, and my 
 heart throbbed as though it would burst. 
 Conrad stood alone in the world ; he is a 
 military orphan." 
 
 A smile passed round the circle of listen- 
 ers, and Fräulein Milch went on : — 
 
 " I told Conrad what my father had said 
 to my mother, the night before. I could 
 give him up for my parents' sake ; but he 
 was not in duty bound to renounce me, and 
 I had not the right to relinquish for him, 
 and it was settled that I should elope with 
 him. 
 
 " My father returned from the synagogue, 
 and I have never felt a heavier sorrow than 
 when he laid his hand in blessing on my 
 head, as is the custom with us. I would 
 not disturb the joy of the feast, and not un- 
 til it was ended — oh ! I ruined the joy of 
 his whole life ! There were no more feasts 
 for him — did I flee with Conrad. I per- 
 suaded myself that my father would give us 
 his blessing, when he should see that it 
 could not be otherwise. We wrote to him, 
 but he did not answer. He sent us word, 
 through a friend, that he had had two chil- 
 dren, who were dead, and for whom he ear- 
 nestly prayed that it might be well with 
 them in the other world. And one word 
 more he sent me, — ' Thou seekest honor 
 before the world,* and for honor hast thou 
 forsaken thy father.' I wrote back pro- 
 testing with a solemn oath that I had wished 
 to obtain no earthly honor through Conrad, 
 promising to clothe myself with humiliation 
 and shame in the eyes of the world, and 
 that oath I have kept until the present day. 
 
 " Conrad soon received tidings of my 
 mother's death, and my father followed her 
 in a few months. I inherited a small for- 
 tune, and we went to the Rhine. Down 
 below, yonder, we lived twelve years in a 
 
 little lower Rhenish village, hidden from all 
 the world, happy in each other. We needed 
 nothing from the world but ourselves. 
 Conrad wished constantly to marry me ; 
 but I had vowed to robe myself in ignominy 
 during the whole period of my existence. 
 We might have been united here by civil 
 contract. That, too, I refused. I used to 
 attend church, impelled by the desire to 
 pray in common / with my fellow human 
 beings. I had my quiet corner, and while 
 the organ was pealing, and a divine service 
 different from my own was being solemnized, 
 I would sit alone and p»ay out of the prayer- 
 book which my father had composed, and 
 from the other, which my brother had had on 
 the field of battle, and which had rested 
 on his heart till it beat no more. I was in 
 the church and was no stranger, for there 
 were people beside me, praying after 
 another fashion, but to the same Spirit 
 which I also invoke, and this Spirit will 
 know and explain why men turn themselves 
 to him in such different ways. Now I be- 
 lieve I may revoke my sentence of self- 
 excommunication." 
 
 " You may, you must," said the Banker, 
 speaking first, and rising as he spoke. The 
 Professorin rose and embraced the narra- 
 tor. 
 
 "Well, then, will you hear the close, 
 too ? " resumed Fräulein Milch. All were 
 still, and she proceeded : — 
 
 "We came hither. How I have lived 
 here, you know. At our change of residence, 
 Conrad expressed his wish for a formal 
 union, but I preferred not to be called Frau 
 Majorin ; it was to me a constant penance 
 and chastisement for my faithlessness to my 
 parents and my desertion of all my people. 
 Now we lived in faithfulness, in oneness, 
 without any formal tie. Thus we have 
 lived, and now it is fulfilled." 
 
 "I shall go with you to the wedding," 
 cried the Professor and Weidmann. 
 
 But the latter now took Manna's hand, 
 saying : — • 
 
 " Do you know for whom is the third 
 bridal wreath which shall be woven from this 
 myrtle-tree ? " 
 
 Manna trembled, and he went on : — 
 
 " It is for you. You have struggled and 
 waited. Help me, Frau Dournay." 
 
 The Mother, too, took Manna's hand. 
 The Major, hastening out, came back bring- 
 ing Eric, to whom, on their way, he said a 
 great many things mixed up in strange 
 confusion. 
 
 The following day saw the three couples 
 united, and no one can say who were the 
 happiest, Manna and Eric, the Major and 
 Fräulein Milch, or Lina and the Architect. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 Rooms were fitted up in the castle, and 
 there Manna and Eric were to pass the first 
 days of their marriage. 
 
 They were sitting at the wedding-feast, 
 which had been tastefully arranged under 
 the direction of Joseph, who was himself 
 betrothed. Manna and Eric had helped 
 him to buy an inn at the capital, and he had 
 plighted his troth to the daughter of mine 
 host of the Victoria. Now, however, he 
 had returned of his own accord, and was 
 the servant of the house as formerly. 
 
 Very modestly did Knopf bring forward 
 three different poems which he had com- 
 posed for the triple wedding ; into these he 
 had skilfully interwoven all sorts of little 
 occurrences, to the amusement of all. 
 
 Eric whispered to Manna, as he sat by 
 her. side : "I am glad that I have already 
 danced with you. I feel as though I must 
 now whirl round with you in the dance, and 
 forget everything. But I must hush : our 
 good teacher is about to speak. 1 ' 
 
 Einsiedel arose, with a. smile upon his 
 face, saying with sparkling eyes : " Come 
 hither, you children of the Rhine, and I will 
 teach you something. My pupil, here, Dr. 
 Dournay, knows it, I shall only remind him 
 of it ; but to you I must say it : — 
 
 "All my thologies tell us of immortal gods ; 
 but they are not immortal by nature, they 
 are only so by the divine drink, by means 
 of nectar, wine, and mead : these are the 
 potions which give eternal life ; and, floating 
 in the clouds, and drinking from the clouds, 
 the deities become immortal, and with them 
 the inspired breath of arisen souls. Yes, 
 it is by drinking ! Look here, see how the 
 sun shines in this glass, and here the light- 
 ning is embosomed, the primitive life-lire. 
 We drink, and are immortal, like the gods. 
 And this is my desire ! Drink always a 
 drop of this divine draught from the ocean 
 of ether, the spirit-sea, which undulates 
 and floats over the world. Their you will 
 be forever happy and immortal." 
 
 Evening came, and Manna and Eric went 
 hand in hand to the castle. 
 
 The moon stood over the stream, bathing 
 with trembling light tree and bush, where 
 the buds were gently bursting and the 
 nightingale unweariedly singing. The 
 world was flooded with bliss. 
 
 For three days they remained alone at 
 the castle, and on the third evening they 
 came down again to Villa Eden. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A JOYOUS FAREWELL, AND HUMBOLDT'S 
 BLESSING ON THE JOURNEY. 
 
 In the Carp Inn Was a noisy hubbub. 
 
 The Cooper, as young host, was merrily 
 pouring the wine, and both fathers, ^the 
 Screamer and the Sevenpiper, looked on 
 delightedly, often clinking their ribbed 
 glasses. 
 
 It was known throughout the whole region 
 that the Cooper was a confidant of Roland 
 and Eric. Now came the young men from 
 all sides, wishing to be enrolled for the 
 American war ; there was even a deputation 
 appeared from Weidmann's cement factory, 
 begging for the passage-money for thirty- 
 two men. 
 
 The Cooper had given information of 
 what was going forward to Roland, who was 
 highly excited by the news. 
 
 Now has come a use for his wealth. He 
 would raise a regiment with which he would 
 go to America. They would land, and the 
 columns would march at once. 
 
 Eric, too, felt a great interest the carry- 
 ing out of this plan, but Weidmann opposed 
 it stoutly, affirming that we had no right to 
 withdraw from Germany the strength need- 
 ed for her development. 
 
 This objection was of no avail ; but an- 
 other remonstrance was decisive. He told 
 Roland that President Lincoln would be 
 absolutely obliged to take a step further, — 
 he must arm the negroes. Then it might 
 be Roland's part to give pecuniary assist- 
 ance, and it would be far grander that the 
 negroes themselves should fight for their 
 own liberation and for that of their breth- 
 ren. 
 
 Roland had been before the court, where 
 he had been declared of age ; he now came 
 into the Carp Inn, where ail were full of 
 astonishment when the young man informed 
 t*hem that be «hould only take with him three 
 young physcians — the Banker had under- 
 taken the expenses of one of the three — 
 that he should engage no one else, as the 
 negroes themselves must fight for their 
 liberty. 
 
 He went back to Villa Eden, accom- 
 panied by Claus. 
 
 There lived the Major. 
 
 He also made a wedding-tour, with the 
 Frau Majorin. They stopped awhile in 
 that part of the garden called Nice. 
 
 They went through the park and ascended 
 the hill, where there was a view down the 
 Rhine. The Major said in a tone of supreme 
 satisfaction : — 
 
 "Now, Frau Majorin, here we are, on 
 the highest mountain in Switzerland. 11 
 
 And at the lake he said : — 
 
 " Frau Majorin, will you have the good- 
 ness to admire the Lago Maggiore ? " 
 
 They went through the conservatories, 
 and the Major declared that the world had 
 
532 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 collected here: its most beautiful show of 
 flowers, in order to spare them the great 
 annoyance of travelling. He besought his 
 wife to excuse him if he did not show her 
 the devotion of a newly married husband 
 during the following days. So much had 
 yet to be provided before the departure of 
 the new knights of the Brotherhood. 
 
 There were, indeed, so many things to be 
 settled, that Eric was at last obliged to en- 
 trust much that was essential to Weidmaun 
 and the Justice. Before he could start, he 
 must obtain his discharge, as he was in the 
 reserve corps. The reply to his application 
 was, that the Prince desired a personal 
 interview. He was obliged to go to the 
 city, and was not a little surprised by the 
 gracious and complimentary expressions of 
 the Prince. lie said that he was not willing 
 to give such a man his discharge, but he 
 would grant him leave of absence for an in- 
 definite time. 
 
 Eric's pride, however, was very soon 
 humbled, for the Prince hinted that Eric, 
 now made the possessor of so much wealth, 
 had better remain in the country. 
 
 During his stay in the city, officers also 
 came to Eric, offering either to accompany 
 or to follow him to America. 
 
 Eric positively declined all such offers. 
 
 Joseph the valet came with his betrothed. 
 Means had been given him to set up an inn 
 of his own in the capital, but he conducted 
 himself like a servant of the house. 
 
 Fassbender's son, who had been working 
 in the Bankers office, was going to the New 
 World, wishing to engage in the occupation 
 of ftis brother, who was an influential build- 
 ing-contractor. In compliance with the 
 urgent request of Claus, he took with him a. 
 great quantity of birds, by which means he 
 was to establish a regular bird-trade with 
 the Old World. 
 
 The deaf-mute from the cement factory, 
 to whom Roland had given a knife, came 
 on the eve of their departure, bringing him 
 ;i mug, on which was marked in very clumsy 
 letters : " Come back. 11 
 
 Roland made permanent provision for the 
 care of the forsaken youth. 
 
 it was very hard for Roland to take leave 
 of the horses and dogs. He had wished to 
 take Griffin with him, but gave up the idea 
 when the difficulties of so doing were repre- 
 sented to him. Laying his hand on the 
 dog's head, he said : — 
 
 "My old friend, I can't take you with 
 me ; I must leave much more than you be- 
 hind me. I don't myself know how it will 
 end. Just stay quietly here, and wait till I 
 come back. 1 ' 
 
 The dog looked up sadly at his master. 
 
 On the morrow there was a great pilgrim- 
 age from the Villa to the steamboat-land- 
 ing. 
 
 They sent the carriages on before. Weid- 
 mann walked with Eric, holding his hand, 
 the Major with Roland, and Knopf with the 
 negro. Manna walked between the Pro- 
 fessorin and the Major's wife. The Aunt 
 and Professor Einsiedel had remained be- 
 hind at the Villa. Roland wept; and 
 Manna, weeping also, leaned on the arms 
 of those who led her. Looking up at the 
 churchyard, she said : — 
 
 "On the bank of this river we are at 
 home : here rests our mother in the earth. 
 I remember an old saying, but where it 
 came from I do not know : — 
 
 " ' The nomadic races wander and wan- 
 der ; but -where they have dug a grave 
 for one of their number, there they must 
 finally remain.' " 
 
 Her voice failed her. After a time she 
 went on : — 
 
 "There stand the trees which father 
 planted." 
 
 Tears choked all further utterance. 
 
 Arrived at the landing, they found a 
 great assemblage of people. Claus kept 
 laughing and nodding, having made a merry 
 night of it at the Carp, wishing to have 
 one more good time before he went forth 
 into the wide world. 
 
 The Cooper, now landlord of the Carp, 
 and the Sevenpiper presented, in behalf of 
 a large number of donors, a keg of virgin 
 wine, crowned with fresh garlands. 
 
 Now the Screamer became animated, and 
 speedily reckoned up what would be the 
 daily portion of each of the travellers until 
 their arrival in New York. It would be at 
 least two bottles apiece ; and he instantly 
 tendered his services in despatching the 
 virgin wine, as probably Eric would not 
 drink his whole share, and perhaps Roland 
 too would fall short. 
 
 The Ganger told in doleful fashion how 
 the voyagers would to-day have the good 
 luck of travelling with a young married 
 couple, for the steamboat which was coining 
 was called the " Beethoven," and the stew- 
 ard of the " Beethoven " had married the 
 " Lorelei." 
 
 Eric and Manna sat by their mother, 
 holding her hand ; and she said to them 
 consolingly : — 
 
 "Eric, spare your life; but should you 
 fall in the great cause, I shall mourn, but I 
 will not bewail your loss." 
 
 "Mother, I am confident of returning 
 home alive out of this struggle ; and yet, if 
 I should fall, mother, be steadfast : I have 
 lived the highest life, through you, through 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 my father's, and through my Manna's, love. 1 ' 
 The Mother silently pressed his hand. 
 Now came the Doctor and the Justice 
 with their wives, and Lina with her hus- 
 band. The Doctor put the finishing touch 
 by imparting the intelligence, agitating to 
 all, that Pranken had entered the Papal 
 army. 
 
 Weidmann was much moved by this 
 news ; he exhorted Eric to keep upper- 
 most in his thoughts, even above the grief 
 of parting, the wonderful way in which all 
 this had come to pass : Pranken there and 
 he here. He expatiated on this with em- 
 phasis, and succeeded in his intention of 
 dispelling personal sorrow by the consider- 
 ation of universal views. That which this 
 man and this youth had done in accordance 
 with their own choice and the leadings of 
 destiny, that was no longer at the disposal 
 of their own individual free will, but was ab- 
 sorbed into, and had become a part of the 
 great whole. 
 
 And now the real mirthfulness of Rhenish 
 life began to display itself. ' The glee-club 
 made its*appearance with a band of music, 
 and clear songs rang out from the pretty 
 and graceful steamer which now came down 
 the stream. The cannon were fired; the 
 boat stopped ; and hurried partings were 
 made. Eric, Manna, and Roland kissed 
 the Mother, who cried : — 
 
 " Be faithful to the end." 
 
 They were soon on board. 
 
 The steamer had pushed off, when a cry 
 was heard. The dog Griffin had .broken 
 loose from the Cooper's hold upon his collar, 
 sprung into the Rhine, and was swimming 
 after the boat. She stopped once more : 
 the dog was hoisted out of the water and 
 taken along with them. 
 
 The party on shore waved their farewell 
 signals, and were answered from the boat, 
 as long as they could see each other ; but 
 for a long time after this, the gaze of the 
 departing ones lingered on the Villa. 
 
 What will become of the house ? What 
 shall they be when they return? What 
 kind of life will there be established ? 
 
 As Manna stood leaning on Eric, some- 
 thing came softly up to them. 
 
 The dogs, Rose and Thistle, had forced 
 their way aboard. Roland, who had like- 
 wise been standing lost in thought, sud- 
 denly brightened up, for Griffin was also 
 with them. 
 
 And now they had a fresh surprise. No 
 one had noticed that the Major had not 
 been among those who had bid them good- 
 bye. He now emerged from the cabin with 
 his wife. He was now making his wedding 
 tour, and accompanied the wanderers as far 
 
 as the Lower Rhine. It seemed as if they 
 had with them a goodly portion of the 
 home. 
 
 There was music on board, and the 
 Major soon brought up the steward and 
 stewardess, to whom he introduced himself 
 and his wife, and Eric and Manna, as newly- 
 married couples. 
 
 "Yes," said he to Eric, "you know I 
 have been a drummer. Til tell you the 
 story some time or other. Yes, when you 
 come back you shall have it. 11 
 
 At the station before the Island, the 
 Major and wife disembarked. Here they 
 had dwelt in the first days .of their union, 
 and here they wished to be again for a day, 
 and to show themselves as married people 
 to those who had then been friendly to- 
 ward them. The Major still waved his 
 hand from the row-boat, and strove to show 
 a cheerful countenance, but the tears ran 
 down his cheeks, and as he bent over the 
 side of the skiff, they flowed into the Rhine. 
 
 Silently they glided on, and, as they 
 passed the Cloister Island, a flock of white 
 doves were winging their way over it. The 
 nightingales were singing so loud as to be 
 heard, in spite of the continual plash of the 
 paddle-wheels. The chüdi-en of the Island 
 were walking along the shore, two by two, 
 and singing. 
 
 Manna sighed deeply, and wafted a greet- 
 ing over to them. 
 
 No one imagined who was passing by, 
 away, away to the New World. 
 
 When, at evening, the vessel stopped for 
 the night, Eric remembered a sheet of 
 paper which Weidmann had given him. 
 lie read it. It contained words from the 
 close of Humboldt's Cosmos : — 
 
 "There are some races more civilized, 
 more highly ennobled by culture than 
 others, but there are no races nobler by 
 nature. All are equally destined for free - 
 dom." 
 
 BOOK XV. 
 
 EXTRACTS OF LETTERS FROM AND TO THE 
 NEW WORLD. 
 
 [Eric to his Mother.] 
 On board the Benjamin Franklin. 
 Our ship bears the name which my father 
 always uttered with peculiar fervor. 
 My mother ! 
 
 I am transformed into a life full of novel 
 excitement. I have seen the sea for the 
 first time. Now I am living upon it, and I 
 seem to be writing to you from another 
 world. 
 
 A joyful event ushered us out* of the 
 Fatherland. 
 
534 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 As we drew near the shore, on the first 
 evening, I espied a broad, benevolent, com- 
 fortable-looking man, at the window of the 
 corner-house at the landing. He bowed to 
 me, I returned the salutation, but did not 
 recognize him. But when we were on 
 board, he came up to us ; it was Master 
 Ferdinand, whom I had helped out at the 
 musical festival. 
 
 I quickly told him our story, and he, 
 with a despatch which could only have been 
 inspired by disinterested kindness, collected 
 his fellow artists, together with some culti- 
 vated amateurs of the town, and we sang 
 and played far into the night. 
 
 With music in our souls we left the 
 Rhine, — we left Germany. 
 
 Manna and Roland will write to you 
 themselves ; they are now on deck, reading 
 the Odyssey : it is the only thing one ought 
 to read here. All movement on the high- 
 way^ on shore, all household interests and 
 surroundings, seem far removed. 
 
 Such a ship is a world in itself. 
 
 Herr Knopf, too, has had a wonderful 
 meeting. He is writing to the Major : get 
 him to show you the letter. One thing 
 more I must tell you about. 
 
 We reached Liverpool at evening, and 
 intended to rest there a day. On the next 
 morning I was standing alone, looking at 
 the harbor, and thinking how Liverpool was 
 the first English port in which slave-ships 
 were fitted out, when I was roused from 
 my reverie over the changing events of 
 history, by seeing an outward-bound vessel 
 weighing anchor. On the deck stood a man, 
 who, I cannot doubt, was Sonnenkamp. 
 He now wears a full beard ; but I recog- 
 nized him m spite of it. He has either 
 been in Europe all the time, or else has re- 
 turned here. He seemed to recognize me, 
 took off his broad-brimmed hat, beckoned 
 to some one, and a figure appeared which 
 I could not recognize with certainty, but 1 
 think it was Bella. 
 
 I learned from the brother-masons, to 
 whom Weidmann had given me a letter of 
 introduction, that a man quite answering to 
 the description of Sonnenkamp, was send- 
 ing a shipload of arms and ammunition to 
 some Southern port. 
 
 I dare not think how terrible, at this 
 juncture, a meeting would have been. 
 
 Strangely enough, as I was walking with 
 Manna at noon, through the city, she said 
 to me: "I feel as if I must meet father 
 here. I keep thinking he will come round 
 some corner, on one side or the other ! 11 
 I do not think I have done wrong in not 
 telling ner of what 1 saw. 
 
 Mv>t agonizing is the thought that, per- 
 
 haps, father and son may fight against each 
 other in opposing armies. My consolation 
 is, that Sonnenkamp, being an old sailor, 
 will probably enter the navy. 
 
 Roland is the darling of the whole ship. 
 He is indefatigably zealous to learn about 
 the arrangement of the vessel, and about all 
 the duties of the crew. He is busy with 
 them first in one place, then in another, 
 and I am glad to see that, by this means, 
 all his hard thinking and speculation are 
 driven away. 
 
 We have favoring winds. 
 
 Very merry, too, is the chirping and 
 singing of the birds that Claus has brought 
 with him. The blackbird strikes an atti- 
 tude on her perch, like that of a renowned 
 singer on the stage, looks eoquettishly 
 round on the bystanders, and sings her 
 "Rejoice in your life." You know she 
 never gets beyond that : but we like to have 
 it said and sung to us: "Rejoice in your 
 life." 
 
 On the second evening out. 
 
 Now it is night. Manna is alone on 
 deck, looking at the stars. What a won- 
 drous world ! Overhead the innumerable 
 stars, and around us the boundless sea. 
 I feel as if I must, on this voyage, let 
 all hard thinking, reflection, and specula- 
 tion take wings and fly away, in order that 
 I may tread the soil of the New World as 
 simply a man of resolute action. There has 
 always been a vein of romance running 
 through my life and nature. What is it 
 that leads me thither, to stake my whole 
 being in a great crisis of human history ? 
 No longer to be a mere spectator, but to 
 act, to live, and, perhaps — no, mother, an 
 inward assurance tells me I shall come 
 home alive from this conflict. 
 
 Home ! Home ! Oh, mother, my soul 
 wings its way across to it, over the bound- 
 less billows of life : we are with you, and 
 Villa Eden makes true its name. And yet, 
 if Fate has otherwise decreed, be firm : 
 your son has been perfectly happy ; he has 
 enjoyed all the fulness of life. I have had 
 you, father, Manna, knowledge, pure aspi- 
 rations, action. All has been mine. 
 
 Here I sit, and the billows bear me on. 
 We rise and fall with the waves, and well 
 for him who feels, as I now do, that the 
 goal at which he aims is a good one. 
 
 It seems as if your hand were on my 
 brow: I am well and free. And, oddly 
 enough, I see myself in my mind's eye, 
 transported to the University town again. 
 Now it is evening ; in the parlor at the 
 " Post," the regular guests are seated, who 
 meet there every evening, though, in truth. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 535 
 
 they cannot endure each other. They sit 
 round a table covered "with black oil-cloth, 
 with their glasses before them, discussing 
 the affairs of the world, telling anecdotes, 
 and hoaxing one another, and then the talk 
 turns upon that unsteady adventurer, Doc- 
 tor Dournay. I am a fruitful theme for 
 them. Tall Professor Whitehead lights a 
 match, and says with satisfaction, "I al- 
 ways knew he would desert Science," and 
 then the everlasting "Extraordinary" says — 
 Enough ! I was once on another planet, and 
 believed myself at home there. 
 
 I have not written for five days, and now, 
 mother, the man who is writing to you has 
 been, with bis nearest and dearest, in the 
 jaws of death. 
 
 We have lived through a storm such as 
 our captain, a seaman of three-and-twenty 
 years 1 experience, has never seen before. 
 
 I must confess, I was not among the 
 brave. And, in the midst of the tempest, 
 — such is the double-action of the soul, — 
 I could not help often thinking of the ever- 
 lasting " Extraordinary, 1 ' at the long table 
 in the Post, speaking of my death, and 
 lamenting his having abandoned poetical 
 composition : our end would have made a 
 fine subject. The coolest in the midst of 
 the storm were Roland and Knopf. The 
 latter, however, was not with us, but on 
 the forward deck with his betrothed. Man- 
 na held me clasped in her arms. We 
 wished to die together. 
 
 Oh, why should I recount our dangers ? 
 They are past. Now that we are safe, we 
 talk of them no more. 
 
 On the next morning, when the sky was 
 so clear, and the sea so calm, we celebrated 
 a betrothal on board. It was friend Knopf 
 who was betrothed ; he will write you a 
 more detailed account of it all. The cask 
 of virgin wine, which had been given to us, 
 was shared among the crew on that day. 
 The Rhine poured joy into the veins of us 
 all. 
 
 There was singing, dancing, jubilation. 
 All the flags were hoisted, and at table 
 friend Knopf made an address no less amus- 
 ing than touching. I believe he is going to 
 send Fraulein Milch his speech. We had 
 music, too ; Knopf played the flute, and 
 persuaded Manna to bring her harp on 
 deck. All the passengers and the sailors 
 stood around her with suspended breath, 
 and, when she had ended, shouted and 
 huzzaed. 
 
 In three days we shall each land ; I do 
 not know whether I shall write again till 
 then ; my first step on the soil of the New 
 World will be to send you this letter, unless 
 
 we should meet, on the way, some vessel 
 which will take it to Europe. 
 To Europe ! 
 
 I feel raised so high above the world, that 
 it seems as if I could play with whole con- 
 tinents. 
 
 Be joyful in thinking of your happy son, 
 
 Eric. 
 
 [Knopf to the Major and Fraulein Milch.] 
 Dear Brother and Sister, 
 
 Oh, how delightful it is that J, who have 
 never been able to calf any one by these 
 names, can now apply them to you ! 
 
 In the red blank-book which you, dear 
 sister, gave me, are many notes of travel, 
 which I hope to be able, some time, to write 
 out : now I cannot. Out with the best 
 thing : I am betrothed ! ! ! It occurs to me, 
 while making these three exclamation marks, 
 that their form has a meaning. They seem 
 to me like the image of a comet. Do ask 
 Professor Einsiedel if I have not made a 
 great scientific discovery. 
 
 Do you remember, dear sister, my telling 
 you of my meeting a girl with two boys in 
 the forest, that time when I was coming to 
 find our friend Herr Dournay ? That girl 
 is my betrothed. Her name is Rosalie, like 
 yours. She looks enough like you to be 
 your sister. Yes, she is your sister. She 
 has brown eyes, like you. 
 
 "But who is she, then ? 11 I hear you ask, 
 laying aside your sewing and looking at me 
 with both eyes — I had almost said, with 
 both hands. 
 
 Well, just let me tell you quietly. 
 
 Now, then, the maiden whom I met in 
 the green-wood, my wood-maiden, is the 
 daughter of a teacher, and — I beg you to 
 hear this respectfully — she has passed her 
 own examination as a teacher, and her 
 brothers are splendid fellows. I did not 
 venture to approach the girl, although I 
 recognized her at the first glance. I tried 
 to ingratiate myself with the brothers — 
 and said one day to the smaller one, who 
 took to me at once — " Tell your sister I 
 met her in the forest, last May, on her way 
 to chapel with you ; she had on a brown 
 dress. 1 ' 
 
 "Why don't you tell her so yourself? 1 ' 
 asked the little fellow. 
 
 I had no time to answer him ; for just 
 then my wood-maiden came along, and be- 
 gan reproving her brother for annoying the 
 strange gentleman, when the little one 
 shouted, " Why, it's the gentleman you 
 imitate, when you show how he looked over 
 his spectacles at you." 
 
 Now it was out. She had made fun of 
 me ? She too ? I took off my glasses, and 
 
536 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 must confess, I should have liked to throw 
 them into the sea, and myself after them. 
 
 " What did she say? 11 you ask. 
 
 She spoke kindly and heartily : she said 
 she had not ridiculed me — Oh. I don't re- 
 member the rest — she gave me her hand, 
 and 
 
 I cannot write it ; you shall hear all about 
 it sometime, and, even if I don't describe 
 it, you know just the same : I, Emil Knopf, 
 girls 1 tutor through so many generations, 
 am engaged to an angel. That is a hack- 
 neyed phrase. Wh6 knows whether angels 
 could stand the teachers 1 examination ? 
 
 I say with Herr Weidmann : I should 
 just like to know how men can manage not 
 to believe in God. Could only humari un- 
 derstanding devise such a story as this ? I 
 had not the slightest idea where she came 
 from, or who she was ; and now she is put 
 aboard the same ship for me, or you may 
 say, I am put on board, and now the war 
 breaks out, and she has an uncle in America 
 — It is a tine thing that there is an uncle in 
 America. I think I have met my father-in- 
 law. And do you know what is the best 
 thing ? 
 
 To have a beloved one to live through a 
 storm. 
 
 In the midst of the storm, and it was no 
 ordinary one, I thought, ' How would it 
 have been, if you had been obliged to sink 
 into the sea alone, and had never known 
 what it is to kiss a maiden's lips, and how 
 it feels to have a soft hand stroke your face, 
 and even to be told, "You are hand- 
 some, 11 — just think of it ! I, Emil Knopf, 
 famous as the least dangerous of men, I am 
 handsome ! Oh, how blind were all mothers 
 and daughters in the blessed land of Unifor- 
 mingen ! Rosalie has a little mirror, and 
 when I look into it, I am really handsome — 
 I am pleased with myself. But do not 
 think I have gone mad ; I am in full posses- 
 sion of my mental powers. Herr Major, I 
 pledge myself to explain to you the law of 
 the centre of gravity and of the line of gra- 
 vitation. I retain my understanding intact. 
 
 'One thing, however, is hard for me. I 
 find that I am no poet. If I were, I should 
 now, of necessity, compose such poems that 
 the whole world would hear of nothing else. 
 The sailors could not refrain from singing 
 them, nor the soldiers, coming away from the 
 parade ground, nor the white-handed young 
 lady at the piano, nor the journeyman by 
 the roadside, when he takes off his oil-cloth 
 hat and lays his head on his pack. Oh, I 
 feel as if I must have something which 
 should appease the hunger of the whole 
 world, crying to all men, u Do you not see 
 how beautiful the world is ? " 
 
 But now I beg for a wedding gift. You 
 and Fräulein Milch must have your photo- 
 graphs taken, for my sake. Oh, excuse 
 my writing Fräulein Milch — I mean the 
 Majorin. I see that I have kept writing 
 Fräulein Milch thoughout the whole letter. 
 Do not be vexed if I do not alter it. 
 
 In the New World I shall write again ; 
 but now not another word. I have written 
 enough, my whole life long, and now I wish 
 to do nothing but frolic and kiss. Oh ! that 
 beautiful air from Don Giovanni occurs to 
 me. 
 
 I will say but this one thing more : Man- 
 na behaves sweetly and kindly to ray Rosa- 
 lie, and so do Adams and our three doctors 
 and young Fassbender. Every one rejoices 
 in our happiness, and my young brothers-in- 
 law are jolly fellows. We are all practis- 
 ing English, but we mean to remain true 
 Germans. 
 
 In sight of land. 
 
 In three days we shall be in New York. 
 
 I do^t know what I may have to en- 
 counter there. Rosalie, says too that I 
 must write now : she is sitting beside me. 
 But I really cannot write my inmost 
 thoughts, when any one is in the same room 
 with me, and especially when such dear 
 eyes are looking at me. I will try, though : 
 Rosalie thinks I have spoken so beautifully 
 that it ought not to be lost. She makes 
 me vain, she thinks so much of everything I 
 say. 
 
 You know that we had a frightful storm, 
 and that we were formally betrothed the 
 day after. It was only a little betrothal 
 feast ; but in spirit we invited the best peo- 
 ple to it, and I summoned and addressed 
 you all ; you first, dear Major — or, rather, 
 pardon me, dear brother, and then you, 
 dear sister. Your cap with the blue ribbon 
 was a good centre for my thoughts. 
 
 I spoke as follows : — 
 
 Oh, you good people, I cannot. They 
 all say', I spoke as if I had received the 
 gift of tongues. It may be so, but write 
 it I cannot. I must give my Rosalie a kiss. 
 Major, give yours to the Majorin. 
 
 There, that's enough. 
 
 P. S. I have given Rosalie what I 
 have written to read. She is taking notes 
 of a severe criticism forme. Yes, that is the 
 way with teachers that have passed their 
 examination. 
 
 New York. 
 To put into a letter what one has experi- 
 enced in New York in three days, nay, in 
 one, would be like holding fast in our 
 hands the changeful images in the clouds. 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 537 
 
 I have given up writing in my diary ; there 
 is too much to say. 
 
 When we landed, the Uncle was waiting 
 for us, but did not accept me as a nephew 
 very willingly. I wish I had you here, 
 dear Brother Major, to explain to him who 
 I really am, and how circumstanced. Now 
 I must wait till he finds it out for himself ; 
 perhaps that will never happen. I doji't 
 blame the Uncle, he had already picked 
 out a husband for Rosalie. When I intro- 
 duced Captain Dournay to him, he said : — 
 
 " Dournay — Dournay ? " but nothing 
 more. He must have had to do with one 
 of the family, some time or other. 
 
 The Uncle is very reserved ; but great as 
 his reticence is the openuess of every one 
 in Dr. Fritz's house. Ah, dear brother 
 and sister, now I know what Herr Weid- 
 mann's home must have been when he was 
 young, only Herr Weidmann has more sons, 
 and here there are daughters. And what 
 splendid creatures they are ! And such a 
 wife ! I can only say, when she looks at 
 you with her great eyes you are satisfied. 
 
 Oh, what glorious people we Germans 
 are ! Wherever we are transplanted, here 
 in the air of freedom especially, we shoot 
 up, and show, for the first time, what we 
 really are. 
 
 I stood by when Roland and Lilian met ; 
 they must have some secret sign of recog- 
 nition, for their first word was "Pebble.' 1 
 Yes, in love affairs some secret understand- 
 ing is always formed. They merely held 
 each other by the hand, and then went out 
 together. Children live here in great in- 
 dependence. 
 
 Things go on beautifully at Dr. Fritz's, 
 only nobody has any time. 
 
 I now understand the American saying, 
 ' Time is money.' There is an extraordi- 
 nary restlessness everywhere. 
 
 Here is war — war ! Most people think 
 it will soon be over, but Dr. Fritz says 
 that the obstinacy of the Southern States is 
 great, and that they are the better armed. 
 
 What is to become of me ? you ask. 
 Dr. Fritz thinks it strange that I still wish, 
 in earnest, to become a teacher of negroes, 
 especially as I do not yet speak the lan- 
 guage with ease. He gives me hope, how- 
 ever, of being able to carry out my plan, 
 by-and-by. And my thoughts go even fur- 
 ther. A* Normal School must be founded 
 for negro youths ; I shall keep this in view. 
 Meantime I am giving music lessons here, 
 and it seems so strange, when I come out 
 of a house where we have been practising, 
 to hear in the street the noisy roll of the 
 drum. 
 
 Adams is in despair ; the President will 
 
 not yet permit any blacks to enlist. 
 Adams has been told to work on the forti- 
 fications, but this he will not do. 
 
 Young Fassbender will have nothing to 
 do with the bird-trade which Claus wanted 
 to draw him into with his brother; he has 
 undertaken to furnish supplies for the 
 army. I hope he will behave honorably, 
 for, sad to say, I hear that a great deal of 
 cheating and embezzlement is carried on 
 even in this Republic. 
 
 [Knopf to Fassbender.] 
 
 and tell me, did I ever meet at 
 
 your house a teacher by the name of Run- 
 zler ? It is very important to me to know 
 this, for he was my father-in-law. 
 
 I think he was at your house, and took 
 snuff out of a large box. 
 
 Yes,, it is so. I have just asked my 
 Rosalie. Her father used to take snuff 
 from a big beech-wood box. So my idea 
 was correct. Memory is a whimsical thing. 
 We ought, professionally, to take it into 
 consideration far more than we do. I re- 
 member actually nothing but the beech- 
 wood snuff-box ; but I beg you to tell me 
 what we talked about at that time. You 
 recollect, or rather I remind you, that I 
 was at that time much saddened by the 
 childish prank which Roland had played off 
 upon me. I was so troubled, that I cannot 
 remember any thing that passed. So write 
 me all about it, and you will be doing me a 
 great favor. You will soon receive a card 
 inscribed thus : 
 
 EMIL KNOPF, 
 
 Rosalie Knopf, nek, Runzler, 
 
 Married. 
 
 I tell you the world is full of romances ; 
 the whole of life is but a romance. 
 
 The philosopher Sendling is right; 
 poetry, art, government, religion, every- 
 thing, had their origin in myths. 
 
 My good Roland has described to me his 
 visit ' to Abraham Lincoln, and I have a 
 good poem about it in my head. Unfortu- 
 nately I have as yet only the title ; but it 
 is a "beautiful one, for the piece is to be 
 called: 'In Abraham's bosom.' Think 
 how much can be included under such a 
 heading ! 
 
 Your son is an extremely practical man ; 
 you will have much satisfaction in him. 
 
 If your under-master chooses to come 
 here, I can procure him much employment 
 in piano lessons. We have teachers 
 enough in Germany to export some. 
 
538 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 [Roland to the Professorin.] 
 
 Pardon me if I no longer venture to call 
 you mother. It seems to me like an injus- 
 tice to my dead mother .that I ever did so. 
 I entreat you to have her grave carefully 
 attended to, and to keep it strewn with her 
 favorite flowers, ericas and pinks. 
 
 Now that is off my mind, I will write of 
 other things. 
 
 When I think of the green cottage, it 
 always seems to me as if it were floating on 
 the sea, and must come hither to us. 
 
 Eric and Manna have, of course, de- 
 scribed our voyage to you. While at sea, 
 I learned tolerably well how the ship was 
 managed, and I should have liked best to 
 enlist in the navy ; but Eric would not hear 
 of it. 
 
 It is probable that my father is fighting 
 against us by sea, so it is better for me to be 
 in the army. t 
 
 I have seen Lilian again. I can say to 
 you alone that we are engaged. Do not say 
 that I am but seventeen, and she but four- 
 teen years old. Events have made us older. 
 Why, Franklin wanted to marry Miss Read, 
 when he was only eighteen. We have 
 vowed to belong to one another when the 
 war is over. 
 
 Please let these lines be seen by no eyes 
 but yours. 
 
 We have been at Washington ; I have 
 seen the Acropolis of the New World. I 
 wished first to make a pilgrimage to Frank- 
 lin's grave, but it was better for me that I 
 could first see one of his greatest successors, 
 Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 I have seen, for the first time, a man of 
 immortal glory. Face to face with him, I 
 have uttered the name which will be handed 
 down to posterity. Those lips, whose 
 words now resound throughout the world of 
 to-day, and shall be reechoed by future 
 ages, have pronounced my name. I have 
 looked on greatness, and how simple it is! 
 
 It was at Carlsbad, in the course of that 
 memorable conversation, — I do not re- 
 member much of it, but this struck me, — 
 that some one, the Cabinetsrath, I think, 
 said : " He who has walked through a port- 
 rait gallery of his ancestors, traverses the 
 whole of life accompanied, as it were, by 
 those eyes." Oh, from Lincoln's eyes the 
 spirit of Socrates and Aristides, the spirit of 
 Moses, of Washington, of Franklin, gazed 
 upon me. And then I fell those to be the 
 forefathers whom every one can earn for 
 himself by honorable labor, by loyalty and 
 self-sacrifice. I have the loftiest ancestry, 
 and I will be worthy of it. 
 
 I enclose a photograph of Lincoln. He 
 resembles Weidmann, not in appearance, 
 
 but in the impression he makes on one. I 
 told him about Adams, and how unhappy 
 the negro was that he could not enter the 
 army, but could only be employed on forti- 
 fications. Lincoln told me to trust mature 
 discretion, and not to forget, in the exuber- 
 ance of youth, that we must use all means 
 in our power to bring about an understand- 
 ing, in order to be justified before our own 
 conscience and before God, if obliged to 
 go further, saying that this was a fraternal 
 strife, a war, not of annihilation, but of re- 
 conciliation. 
 
 I should like to enter a negro regiment, 
 and told him so. He was silent, and only 
 laid his broad, powerful hand on my head. 
 Manna remains at Dr. Fritz's. Eric has 
 probably already told you of his entering 
 the army with the rank of Major. I have a 
 comrade, Hermann, Lilian's brother, who 
 bears a strong resemblance to Rudolph 
 Weidmann, and is of the same age, but 
 much older in character. Here, one is much 
 older at eighteen than with us. He talks 
 very little ; but what he says, is so sensible 
 and decided ! Ah, he has had a beautiful 
 youth! — but I will say no more ofthat. 
 1 left Griffin behind, in Lilian's care. We 
 are in the cavalry. If we only had our 
 Villa Eden horses here ! Tell the Major to 
 write me word who has bought them. My 
 heart aches if I think of Villa Eden. 
 
 Just now, having written that word, I was 
 obliged to stop. Have patience with me : 
 you shall see that your great- goodness to 
 me has not been thrown away. You shall 
 hear of manly behaviour on the part of 
 Your 
 Roland Dournay. 
 
 I have taken the name of Dour nay here. 
 You will understand why. 
 
 [Manna to the Professorin.] 
 ... I long to throw myself upon your 
 breast, and there to say, "Mother!" and 
 nothing more. The pen trembles in my 
 hand, but I hear you say, " Be strong." I 
 will. I dare not think how it will be when 
 we are again with you. You are our home. 
 We must wait, who knows how long? Who 
 knows with what sacrifices ? I dare not 
 think that Eric may be taken from me — 
 from us. 
 
 It seemed like a dream to me, when we 
 trod the soil of this continent — of my native 
 land. I would gladly have floated on with 
 the ship forever. I am living in the house 
 of Dr. Fritz. Eric and Roland have to-day 
 gone to Washington to see Lincoln. I do 
 not realize that Eric is not with me, and yet 
 I must soon let him go, how differently ! 
 I We will not be afraid, will we, mother? 
 
THE COUNTEY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 539 
 
 A wonderful destiny has brought us together 
 and preserved us together ; it will remain 
 true to us. 
 
 I should like to tell you much of the home 
 where I dwell, and of all the good, intellect- 
 ually wide-awake people, and often, when I 
 hear the wife and children talking and see 
 them acting, I want to say, " That you get 
 from Eric's mother, from my mother. 11 
 There exists, over the whole earth, a com- 
 mon fund of noble thought, as every one 
 finds who bears a portion of it within him- 
 self. This is, to me, the meaning of the 
 words, "Seek and ye shall find, knock 
 and it shall be opened unto you. 11 You 
 have given me the power of seeking, of 
 knocking, and I find that it is opened unto 
 me. Oh, mother! Why must it be by 
 means of such tremendous events, poised 
 so narrowly between life and death, that 
 the greatness and goodness, the readi- 
 ness for martyrdom of the human heart, 
 must be developed? Why not in peace, 
 in love, in quiet cares? 
 
 That will be the millennium, you have 
 often said, when the best qualities will 
 no longer unfold in struggle, but in 
 beauty and peacefulness. You, my 
 mother, are a messenger and a witness 
 from the paradise-world beyond the 
 strife. Rejoice, as we rejoice, that you are 
 this messenger, this witness. I will be- 
 come like you, I am and will be your 
 daughter, and will grow evermore truly so. 
 
 It is well that I was interrupted in this. 
 Lilian has a fresh voice, and our friend 
 Knopfs betrothed sings beautifully. We 
 have practised pieces in which I accompany 
 Lilian's singing on the harp. Oh, if we 
 could send some of those tones over the 
 sea ! In the midst of the uproar of life 
 around us, here we sit and sing by the hour 
 together. Now I understand anew that 
 saying, that art is a redeemer; — that say- 
 ing of father's. 
 
 Why is the word father so harrowing to 
 my soul ? How happy it was for my mother 
 to be snatched away as she was ! When I 
 fall into this train of thought, I always feel 
 as if entering a desert, far, far away ; 
 nowhere anything cheering to the eye or 
 refreshing to the soul. We must bear it. 
 
 I see with sorrow that I am writing con- 
 fusedly ; but you know and believe me, 
 when I say that I am really calm, and, above 
 all, you are to know that I never burden 
 our Eric with these heavy thoughts. It is 
 less from intention than — no, as soon as he 
 comes, all dread and grief vanish ; every- 
 thing is light, sunshine, day. 
 
 Three days later. 
 Eric has returned with Roland from 
 
 I Washington. They have much to tell, and 
 Roland is in a state of enthusiasm which you 
 
 : can easily picture to yourself. 
 
 j Have I already told you that our friend 
 
 j Knopf has found a charming little wife ? 
 
 I She is full of intelligence, modesty, and 
 
 I energy. She, too, has had religious eon- 
 
 i tiicts to undergo, as I have, not so severe ; 
 
 ; but then she has had a hard fight with her- 
 self. Lilian, too, young as she is, is far 
 
 ! riper than her years, on account of her zeal 
 
 I for making converts. 
 
 She was sent to Germany, and our friend 
 
 ■ Knopf there accomplished a good work. 
 Lillian has become a sister to me, and we 
 talk much of how she shall go with ns to 
 the Rhine. She thinks, however, that Eric 
 and I will remain here ; but that will never 
 be. Our home is there. You are our home. 
 I kiss your eyes, cheeks, mouth, hands. 
 Ah, let me kiss you once more, once more ! 
 You are my — ah ! you do not know at all 
 what you are ; but you know that I am 
 Your daughter, 
 
 Manna Dournay. 
 P.S. Dear Aunt Claudine, send me a 
 great deal more good music, some soprano 
 songs with harp accompaniment, and send 
 them soon. At every tone I*will think of 
 you, and my naughty little finger, which you 
 took so much trouble to train, is now per- 
 fectly obedient. 
 
 [Eric to Weidmann.] 
 
 When I stood before Abraham Lincoln, I 
 thought of you, my revered friend. And 
 because I have known, in my short life, 
 what purely noble men breathe the same 
 air with me, I was unembarrassed and at 
 my ease. My lot is an exalted one : I can 
 look in the faces of the best men of my age. 
 And if wiseacres ever again tell me, conde- 
 scendingly, that I am an idealist, I can re- 
 ply to them, " I must be one, for I have met 
 some of the noblest of men on my life-road ; 
 I not only believe in the elevation of 
 pure humanity — I know it." 
 
 I will only give one incident of our inter- 
 view. 
 
 We heard the opinion expressed, among 
 those who surrounded Lincoln, that the 
 negroes ought not to be set free, because 
 they would do no work unless forced. 
 Roland said to me in a low voice : — 
 " Do the slaveholders work without being 
 forced? 11 
 
 Lincoln noticed that the boy was say- 
 ing something to me, and encouraged 
 him to speak without reserve. Roland re- 
 peated his question quietly but earnestly. 
 
540 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 You, who have helped me to awaken this 
 young spirit, will sympathize in my plea- 
 sure. 
 
 And now I will tell you about your 
 nephew. 
 
 Oh, our blessed German life ! In old 
 times travellers took with them into foreign 
 countries the images of their saints. We 
 Germans carry our poets, our philosophers 
 and musicians over the face of the whole 
 globe ; and your nephew's pleasant, com- 
 fortable, free home is the abode of true 
 culture. Here, in the midst of the tumult 
 of political and private life, reign immortal 
 spirits, who bring a devotion, a serenity, a 
 holy quiet, of a peculiar sort. 
 
 Your nephew has done well in always 
 telling me not to believe, with most people 
 here, that this war will be over in a few 
 months. I now think not of the end, but 
 only of the next day. 
 
 And, in the midst of this growth and 
 change of historic movement, I feel that 
 the individual is like the single cell in a 
 tree, or else that we are like boys on the 
 school-bench. We do not know the entire 
 educational plan. We do not know the 
 end to which all this leads. We must 
 learn our lessons ; and cell is built upon 
 cell, knowledge is added to knowledge, 
 until — who knows the end ? 
 
 In the first great struggle, in the New 
 World's war of independence, there were 
 Germans sold by German princes, to 
 fight for the English against the Ameri- 
 cans, and but few of our countrymen, tow- 
 ering up among them like Steuben and 
 Kalb, did battle for the Republic. At that 
 period the French — Lafayette's name rings 
 out clear among them — stood foremost 
 among the New World's champions of free- 
 dom. To-day the Union army contains 
 thousands of Germans, witnesses who have 
 emigrated or been exiled. Why are there 
 no Frenchmen ? I know the reason, and 
 so do you. 
 
 I see the poet of the future draw near. 
 The great drama of our epoch; the strife 
 between Caesarism and self-government, is 
 presented to his gaze in dimensions such as 
 no past age could know : he will compress 
 the struggle within narrow limits. 
 
 The Republic of the United States has 
 not yet existed a century. Oh, how differ- 
 ent is the aspect of things here from what 
 we had pictured to ourselves ! I have 
 found many who doubt the continuance of 
 the Union ; cultivated clergymen even told 
 me that there was certainly more power of 
 endurance in the monarchical form of 
 government. That is the feeling of dejec- 
 
 tion and despair: but it is, I believe, only 
 to be met with in single instances. 
 
 How often I am obliged to hear myself 
 called a philosophical idealist ! And they 
 
 I tell me I shall soon be converted. Your 
 nephew, whose comprehensive glance sees 
 all sides of a subject, "has solved this enigma 
 
 I for me. The people here have lived so long 
 for their own ease alone, feeling their claims 
 
 , of the State only occasionally, as voters. 
 They must now pass through the school of 
 military discipline, of staking their lives 
 for the life of the nation — only as an edu- 
 cation, of course, to be free again after- 
 
 J wards. 
 
 j The so-called slavery question is not so 
 I nearly decided, by a great deal, as we sup- 
 J posed. 
 
 Your nephew thinks the complete aboli- 
 I tion of slavery will become a necessary war 
 measure of vital importance to the con- 
 tinued existence of the nation ; that pat- 
 riotism must be wedded to humanity — 
 that the, £ure ideal must give place to 
 utilitarianism and necessity — that the 
 logic of events will bring about a decision 
 not to be effected by the logic of thought. 
 There is still a strong party here in the 
 North who do not wish to proceed to the 
 one extreme measure, as they call the abso- 
 lute abolition of slavery; but hope to sub- 
 due the South by war instead. 
 . We hope they will not succeed. The 
 words " necessity of State," so often mis- 
 used by tyrants, will now, we trust lead to 
 Liberty. 
 
 How much one is obliged to hear against 
 the negroes in this country ! 
 
 That the four million slaves represent 
 twenty hundred million dollars, is, of course, 
 the point first mentioned; then that the* 
 blacks have many vices, as though a perfect 
 model of virtue were to be expected from a 
 down-trodden race. Any nation, so long held 
 in bondage, tortured, martyred, condemned 
 to ignorance, would have been just what 
 they are. Moreover, tyranny has, in all 
 ages, proclaimed the oppressed to be low 
 beings, ignoring, of course, the fact that 
 if they have some base tendencies, it is the 
 oppression that has prepared the soil and 
 implanted them. 
 
 I have made the acquaintance here of a 
 distinguished negro, whose oration on the 
 present situation and the future of his race 
 I had heard. There was a touch of De- 
 mosthenes in it. He was a slave twenty- 
 two years, and has acquired a complete 
 scientific education. 
 
 Sometimes there is in his voice a quiver- 
 ing tone of lament, as of one drooping 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 541 
 
 under a weight of sorrow, and I admire him 
 for suppressing an avengeful anger. If a 
 single man can do much for his race, this 
 man, or one like him, might become an his- 
 toric character. 
 
 But the heroic age is past, entirely and 
 forever ; now we must depend on commu- 
 nity of action. 
 
 We are transported into the midst of an 
 historical or logical unfolding of events. 
 The attempts at peaceful reconciliation 
 have been of no avail. In spite of the cry 
 " No coercion ! " an army had to be raised, 
 and now the cry is, "No confiscation of 
 property ! " That means, no abolition of 
 slavery, and yet this must be the second 
 result, since it could not be the first. 
 
 The moral debt, neither noted down nor 
 paid interest on, nor cancelled on change, 
 is now becoming a great national debt 
 of the Union, which the country will be 
 obliged to liquidate with money and blood. 
 
 [Manna to the Mother.] 
 
 What a small matter was that 
 
 night-riot made by men with blackened 
 faces ! I have lived through a pro-slavery 
 riot. Doctor Fritz says it arose from 
 the bitter opposition to the conscription. 
 Many blacks were murdered, our friend 
 Knopf's school was laid in ruins, and the 
 negro orphan asylum burned to the ground, 
 the poor black children rolling crying on 
 the pavement. We have much to do. 
 The world has much to make amends for. 
 
 [Eric to the Banker.] 
 
 I perfectly understand your 
 
 sorrow over the fact that there are some 
 Jews among the Secessionists. General 
 . Twiggs, commanding in Texas, who went 
 over to the rebels with his army, fortress, 
 and munitions of war, was a Jew. 
 
 And that speculators on change also lend 
 assistance to the defenders of slavery ! 
 Why should they less than the professedly 
 pious English ? 
 
 Why do you require all the Jews, collec- 
 tively and individually, to stand on the 
 side of moral principle ? They have the 
 right of equality, even in ill-doing. They 
 are, if one may be permitted to say so, 
 equally justified in crime with other men. 
 It must be shown, it is now being shown, 
 that no religion has the monopoly of mo-« 
 rality. 
 
 You complain that the passion for enjoy- 
 ment has invaded even your innermost 
 circle of friends. 
 
 That belongs under the heading above 
 indicated. The more I think over your 
 letter, the more surely I arrive at this con- 
 
 I elusion : the Jews, so long and so cruelly 
 excluded from participation in national af- 
 fairs, and condemned to a sad cosmopoli- 
 tism, will now, in their days of liberation, 
 behave like natives of the different commu- 
 nities in which it is their lot to be*, and will, 
 above all, remain patriotic. 
 
 Moreover, I can assure you that many 
 Jews are here among us, fighting with 
 valor and self-sacrifice. 
 
 The young physician equipped by you 
 is exceedingly able. 
 
 The money which' you sent over is being 
 conscientiously expended. 
 
 I hope yet to sing with your daughter- 
 in-law, to whom please present my kind 
 regards. 
 
 My wife joins me in cordial remem- 
 brances of you. 
 
 [The Professorin to Eric and Manna.] 
 
 All is well. Would that I could send 
 you some of the spring fragrance and 
 beauty which surround us here. No tree 
 bears blossoms as countless as the bless- 
 ings which go out from my heart to you. 
 Here we sit in peace, and you are out there 
 in the battle. We can do nothing for you, 
 only I say to you, my son, and to you, 
 my daughter: whatever may come, abide 
 quietly in the assurance, that having fol- 
 lowed the leadings of the spirit, we must 
 silently recognize and bear our part. I 
 have been in the next village ; it must be 
 like a recent settlement in America. 
 
 It is a beautiful and great thing to be 
 able to help so many human beings to a 
 cheerful and active existence. 
 
 My son, why do you not write whether 
 you have inquired for Uncle Alphonso ? 
 Do not delay doing so. If he is yet .living, 
 tell him that I have never judged him un- 
 kindly, though he has been so hard upon 
 us ; and tell him that your father always 
 preserved a brotherly feeling for him. 
 But ah, I do not know whether he is still 
 alive. Do not delay to get some positive 
 information. 
 
 Our friend Einsiedel is busy in arranging 
 your father's papers. 
 
 Our good Major wants to have a room 
 built in the hot-house, and, next winter, 
 live there all day long among the plants, 
 breathing in their fragrance; then, he as- 
 serts, he should live to be a hundred years 
 old. 
 
 [Claudine to Manna.] 
 If you feel overwhelmed by the hard ex- 
 periences which you must bear, do not for- 
 get to keep up your study of astronomy ; it 
 takes us out of all our small troubles. 
 
542 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON" THE RHINE. 
 
 You will have to make new applications 
 of your astronomical knowledge to new con- 
 ditions in America. 
 
 [Lina to Manna.] 
 
 To-morrow I give my first large coffee- 
 party ; look upon me with respect. I 
 spread fine damask table-cloths, and have 
 my own gilt-edg&d cups. Ah. why can you 
 not be here ? People say that my voice is 
 much stronger now that I am a mother. 
 O Manna, the most beautiful song is that 
 which one sings to her child. 1 hope it 
 won't be long before you know it. 
 
 Pranken and his wife have come back, 
 but they are not to remain with us. He is 
 to be ambassador somewhere on the Lower 
 Danube, near Turkey ; I don't know the 
 name of the country. 
 
 I have thought* of ,a beautiful plan for 
 you. When you come home, you must es- 
 tablish a special singing-club of all the 
 matrons and maidens in the neighborhood, 
 and we'll sing in your garden, and in the 
 beautiful music-room, and in the pretty 
 boats on the river, and on the flat-roofs, 
 and everywhere. Ah, that will be life! If 
 to-morrow were only here ! 
 
 [Einsiedel to Eric] 
 Elevating thoughts are in these papers 
 which your father left behind him. It is 
 much to be regretted that one of them has 
 not been given to the world before this. 
 He foresaw this war in America quite clear- 
 ly. Connected and logical thought is a 
 kind of prophecy. I shall publish the 
 sheets with my positive assurance that they 
 were written by a noble recluse many years 
 before the events foretold. 
 
 [Weidmann to Eric] 
 
 We are in the midst of all sorts of work* 
 You wanderers took much of our peace 
 away with you, but now all is in its habitual 
 order again. 
 
 Thank you, dear Dournay, for your let- 
 ter. My nephew always sends me the 
 newspapers regularly. Do not allow your- 
 self to be distracted by thoughts of Europe, 
 and by too great a variety of interests ; 
 you are stationed at a post where you must 
 keep only the next duty, before your eyes. 
 Forgive me lor permitting myself to admon- 
 ish you thus. It was high time that this 
 disgrace should be wiped out from the con- 
 sciousness of our age, for it had begun to 
 appear that long habit was weakening the 
 keen and bitter sense of its sin and shame. 
 
 I am finding surprising confirmation of 
 this opinion. Herr Sonnenkamp corrupted 
 our district more than he knew; people 
 
 now speak well of him. " Ah, only a slave- 
 trader ! " "Nothing worse!' 1 may be 
 heard on all sides. 
 
 There is always something commanding 
 in heroism ; the bold scoundrel is more at- 
 tractive than the unobtrusively virtuous 
 man. Not only the frivolous, but quite 
 sober-minded men think that the Prince 
 was unnecessarily scrupulous in refusing to 
 ennoble Herr Sonnenkamp. 
 
 A plant has become common in Europe 
 which is called the water-pest : you may 
 have read of it ; it came from Canada, 
 probably attached to some vessel, and has 
 almost choked the Thames with its roots 
 and entangled stems ; it has crept far into 
 the continent, and has now reached us, but 
 we will conquer it. Such a water-pest 
 spreads too in spiritual matters. 
 
 [Doctor Richard to Eric] 
 
 All the others have no doubt written 
 most edifying and sentimental letters ; I 
 have something better for you. First, let 
 me tell you to rejoice that you have some- 
 thing to do, and have done with speculating. 
 
 And now for a fine story : — 
 
 Otto von Pranken — for whom I always 
 had a sympathy, like all the rest of the 
 profane world ; he is no paragon of virtue, 
 but there's a good deal in him — has beaten 
 the black-coats in shrewdness ; he got him- 
 self recommended to Rome by them and 
 there he has played a smart trick. He en- 
 tered the Papal army with the rank of 
 Major, but got into some difficulty, on pur- 
 pose, as I believe. He wrote a letter full 
 of dissatisfaction over the organization of 
 the army, and this gave him an excuse for 
 resigning, and marrvincr the youns; widow, 
 the daughter of Herr von Endlich. When 
 you come home you will have some new 
 neighbors. They say, though, that Pran- 
 ken is to enter on a diplomatic career, and 
 I think he has talent for it. 
 
 Have vou seen or heard nothing of Frau 
 Bella? 
 
 (TheMajorin Grassier late Fraulein Milch, to Knopf.] 
 You can fancy how your letter rejoiced 
 us. My good husband was cheered up by 
 it into better spirits than he has had for a 
 long time. I am sorry to say that since you 
 all went off, he has been full of trouble. 
 For months he has not been able to get rid 
 of the thought why he was not younger, so 
 that he could have gone with you. And 
 then, don't laugh at us, we have a real 
 family trial, for our Laadi has grown blind, 
 and no physican can help her. People 
 laughed at us for tending the dog so care- 
 fully : they want us to have her shot, but 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. ' 543 
 
 that we can't do, and so we take care of 
 poor Laadi. My husband sits for hours 
 by her, talking to her, and even takes her 
 out for a little walk every day. Why must 
 the dog grow blind ? Ah, but I'm asking 
 stupid questions ; one has to be careful not 
 to grow sentimental ; Mother Nature is a 
 hard mother. 
 
 I knew the father of your Rosalie ; he was 
 once at our house with the school-master 
 Fassbender. 
 
 [Eric to Weidmann. 
 
 Adams was ordered to work in the 
 trenches, and a great number of negroes 
 with him, but he would not take the pick 
 in his hand ; then Roland did what I once 
 dissuaded him from doing, when he wanted 
 to labor among the workmen at the castle. 
 I think I told you about it. Now he joined 
 the negroes and used his pick with them, 
 and when I went to him once, as he wiped 
 the perspiration from his forehead, 1 saw a 
 light in the youth's eye, which said that the 
 crown of human honor rests on the brow 
 from which runs the sweat of toil. 
 
 Beginning this letter to you composes 
 me, in the midst of the constant excitement 
 of camp-life. 
 
 There is much discontent in the army ; 
 men are blaming Lincoln for maintaining a 
 vacillating, uncertain policy, or, to say the 
 least, for his extreme slowness. 
 
 I must leave it to Dr. Fritz, or rather to 
 time, to prove the truth of his words when 
 he says, Lincoln is not a genius, an indivi- 
 dual towering above the mass ; he is an 
 average man, the exact exponent of the 
 spirit of the people at its present stage of 
 progress. He is not remarkably distinguish- 
 ed, but a man of just the right stamp. 
 
 Perhaps that is true, and it is much to 
 say. This is not greatness in the old sense 
 of the word, and we may have entered up- 
 on an age which has outgrown the heroic, 
 and those representatives of heroism around 
 whom all others seemed grouped as minor 
 figures. 
 
 Opposed to the Monarchic, the Aristo- 
 cratic, and the Monotheistic, stand the Re- 
 publican, the Democratic, and the Pantheis- 
 tic : they are only three different names for 
 three unfoldings of the same principle. 
 
 [ Roland to the Professorin.] 
 My first lines from camp shall be to you, 
 dear Frau Professorin. I thank you for the 
 motto which you once gave me ; I feel as 
 if I were not the same person to whom all 
 that happened. I promise you, and this 
 is a new oath of allegiance, to be true to 
 your motto. 
 
 Ah, why do you not know Lilian ? she 
 deserves that you should know her. 
 
 I have told her a great deal about you ; 
 she thinks she should stand in awe of any 
 one so wise and learned, but I tell her she 
 need not. 
 
 And oh, Dr. Fritz is such a noble man. 
 He told me that he was a pupil of your 
 husband, and it must make you happy that 
 your husband's spirit lives on in such a man, 
 here in the New World. 
 
 I must try not to think too much of you 
 and of the past : I ought now to give my 
 thoughts only to what we have before us ; 
 and I am tired out. I have had a very fati- 
 guing drill. 
 
 Eric is held in great respect here. All is 
 still ; in camp it is said that to-morrow we 
 shall come under fire for the first time. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 The battle is beginning ; I hope to do my 
 duty. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 I have been promoted on the field. 
 [ Eric to Weidmann.] 
 
 In Camp. 
 
 We have fought a battle ; we have been 
 defeated. Roland has distinguished him- 
 self, and been promoted. I have to use all 
 my influence to restrain his daring. 
 
 The coolness and deliberation of your 
 grand-nephew Hermann are a great help 
 to me. 
 
 The hardest thing in this war is, that 
 thousands must necessarily be sacrificed in 
 order to teach the officers the art of war. 
 There is a deficiency of experienced and 
 tried leaders ; and it is no small thing that 
 the army, wholly without any confidence in 
 the military skill of its generals, maintains 
 itself so bravely. They must learn how to 
 fight by fighting ; and in this particular the 
 Southern States have the advantage. 
 
 I have very great doubts whether our 
 opponents fight with the hope of triumph ; 
 I mean, whether they honestly believe, that 
 if they conquer, their principle can be per- 
 manently established. 
 
 Their very bitterness, which exceeds all 
 bounds of a common humanity, the very 
 vindictiveness with which they carry on the 
 contest, shows me that they believe in a 
 victory by war, but not by peace. And here 
 the question presents itself to me : Why 
 must an acknowledged ideal principle always 
 and forever be attained through blood ? 
 
 This is the great enigma of history. But 
 it is the same as it is in a smaller sphere 
 and in individual life ; humanity is rational, 
 but its predominating characteristic is pas- 
 sion, impulsive affection, which urges for- 
 
 / 
 
544 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 ward and renovates the life of humanity 
 as it does that of the individual. I am re- 
 minded of an expression of yours, that 
 nothing is so conducive to the growth of 
 vegetation as a thunder-storm. It is per- 
 haps the same in the history of man and of 
 humanity. Schiller's dream, that the highest 
 form of poetry would be the peaceful idyl 
 of an equilibrium of opposite forces without 
 any great sacrifice, is but a dream. It is 
 not found in the sphere of pure thought or 
 poesy, because it is nowhere found m actual 
 life. 
 
 As Goethe said, this America has no 
 middle ages to conquer, but he was mis- 
 taken in saying that it had no basaltic 
 strata, for it is now just coming out of its 
 own peculiar condition of feudalism. Its 
 history, like that of a dramatic poem, is 
 condensed into a briefer period of time, 
 and brought more directly under our view. 
 
 This America has been engaged in no 
 war for dynasty or religion, and it must 
 now fight for an idea. Independence was 
 the first great question, and that may be 
 also an egoistic question. The emancipa- 
 tion of others is the second and purely 
 ideal one ; and to be taken entirely out of 
 the strife for wealth and material goods 
 where external well-being is the sole in- 
 terest, the final and supreme concern, and 
 to be placed in a period of history where 
 life must be imperilled for an idea, this 
 gives ideal power. America now for the 
 first time brings her new element, her sac- 
 rificial gift, into the Pantheon of humanity. 
 Until now, it might be said that the his- 
 torical greatness of America bore no com- 
 parison with its natural greatness. 
 
 America has had, compressed into a sin- 
 gle epoch of existence, its migration of the 
 nations, its crusades, and its thirty years'* 
 war ; and there is something of the rapid- 
 ity and the instantaneousness of the elec- 
 tric telegraph in its history. 
 
 Here I am, sitting in camp, and writing 
 like a schoolmaster. But it has done me 
 good. I feel collected, refreshed, and 
 strengthened while turning my thoughts to 
 you. 
 
 [Roland to the Professorin.] 
 We have been beaten ! Mother, we have 
 been beaten ! Eric consoles me and con- 
 soles us all ; he says that it is good for us, 
 we must learn to stand the brunt. Well, I 
 will learn. 
 
 (Eric's Postscript.) Mother! I found 
 these lines which Roland left behind, and I 
 send them to' you. Roland is missing, and 
 has either fallen or been taken prisoner; he 
 
 has borne himself bravely, and had been 
 promoted to be an officer. O my Roland ! 
 
 [Eric to Weidmann.] 
 
 In Camp. 
 
 The great, the necessary step has been 
 taken ; the negroes have been called to 
 serve in the army, and we have enlisted in 
 a negro regiment, — Roland, Hermann, and 
 I. Now the contest, is for the first time 
 complete. The negroes show themselves 
 willing and docile, and are always merry. 
 This discipline of the army is an excellent 
 preparatory school for life. 
 
 We have learned from one of our spies 
 that a man who calls himself Banfield, but 
 who from the description I think is Son- 
 nenkamp, is in the army in front of us, and 
 with him there is a woman in man's dress, 
 a great beauty, who receives the homage 
 of all. I had hoped that he would enter 
 the Navy ; it is horrible to me that he and 
 his son are now fighting in hostile ranks, so 
 directly face to face with each other. I 
 trust that Roland will hear nothing of it. 
 
 But it is very pleasant to see the beau- 
 tiful comradeship of Roland and your 
 grand-nephew, Hermann ; they are insep- 
 arable. 
 
 [Roland to the Professorin.] 
 The final step has been taken. Eric, 
 Hermann, and I have enlisted in a black 
 regiment. This is just what I wanted. I 
 may be allowed to say it to you, these 
 bondmen now struggling for a manhood 
 which would not have been accorded to 
 them in peace, thuy love me. I think of 
 Parker's word. Oh, what a day that was 
 when I heard his name from you for the 
 first time, there going out of church, and 
 then 
 
 Forward ! this is now our watchword ; 
 there must be no looking back now. One 
 thing more. I have found a friend, and a 
 better one you could not have wished for 
 me out of your own full loving heart ; and 
 my Hermann is Lilian's brother. I dare 
 not dwell upon the thought that he is fight- 
 ing from his own voluntary choice, and I — 
 No, I, too, stake all freely. 
 
 [Eric to Weidmann.] 
 
 In Camp. 
 
 my friend ! Roland is missing. We 
 have gained a victory. I have searched 
 the battle-field with our surgeon, Adams, 
 and Hermann. O what a sight ! We did 
 not find Roland. Our hope is that he has 
 been taken prisoner. 
 
 What a hope ! 
 
 1 am obliged to console myself while 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 545 
 
 consoling Hermann. The youth feels to 
 the very depth of his true soul sorrow for 
 the lost one, but he is far from exhibiting 
 any weakness ; the good training of a free 
 Commonwealth, and of the German paren- 
 tal home, has now its effect. Hermann is 
 now my tent companion ; he is entirely dif- 
 ferent from Roland. Here in America 
 every one has room for development, and 
 all the branches live and spread forth on 
 the tree ; and besides, Hermann has no 
 sorrowful conflict with fate in his soul, such 
 as my poor Roland had. 
 
 I beg you, if any news comes from Son- 
 nenkamp addressed to me, that you would 
 write to him that his son is a prisoner. 
 
 I am tired to death. The images of the 
 wounded, the dead, the trampled under 
 foot, will never fade from my memory. 
 
 I don't know when I shall write you 
 again; but I entreat you to let Sonnenkamp 
 know about Roland immediately ; perhaps 
 you could insert it in some English news- 
 paper which circulates in the Southern 
 States. 
 
 Confer with Professor Einsiedel about 
 everything, but I beg you not to say any- 
 thing about it to my mother. 
 
 [Lilian to the Professorin.] 
 
 " Write at once to Eric's mother," says 
 Roland to me. 
 
 So you see, honored lady, that I have 
 found him. 
 
 The terrible tidings reached us that 
 Roland had either been killed or taken pri- 
 soner, and I could no longer endure it. I 
 went down into the enemy's country. Oh, 
 how much I have gone through ! I have 
 been on the battle-field, and looked into 
 the faces of hundreds of the mangled and 
 the dead. I have been in hospitals, and 
 heard the moans and the groans of the 
 sick and the wounded, but nowhere Roland, 
 nowhere any trace of him. 
 
 I still travelled onward, and they had 
 compassion for me, those terrible people ; 
 they pitied the lonely maiden who was seek- 
 ing her beloved. 
 
 I found him at last — no, not I. Griffin 
 found him, for the faithful animal was with 
 me. We found him in a barn. He is wound- 
 ed. Oh, he looked so emaciated, so changed, 
 that I scarcely knew him ! But now all is 
 well. 
 
 Roland relates that a woman in man's 
 clothing had him taken into the barn, and 
 he asserts that it was the Countess Bella. I 
 saw her once when I was at Mattenheim, I 
 have seen her now. I think it was she — 
 rushing past on horseback, and dressed like 
 
 a man. She looked at me, and must have 
 
 recognized me. 
 
 Oh, mother ! it is very wonderful. Per- 
 haps Roland has told you that he gave me 
 a pebble, and 1 gave one to him, when we 
 saw each other at Mattenheim. This peb- 
 ble he kept and wore over his heart, and 
 the pebble saved his'life. 
 
 I have sent an account of everything to 
 New York, but I do not know whether the 
 letter will get there. Letters will reach 
 Europe, and I beg you to forward the tid- 
 ings to my father and to Eric. Say, besides, 
 that Roland is wholly out of danger ; a 
 German physician in the army here gives 
 me this assurance. 
 
 Send the news also to Mattenheim, to 
 uncle and aunt and all the relatives. 
 
 Roland has just waked, having had a 
 good sleep. 
 
 He wants me to request you to take the 
 deaf mute to the Villa, and give him some- 
 thing to do in the garden ; he talks a great 
 deal about him. 
 
 [Eric to Weidmann.] 
 • Now the worst is over ! I don't know 
 how to put it into words. 
 
 It was a hot day, and the battle was a 
 severely contested one on both sides. We 
 have gained the victory, and our loss is 
 great. Adams came to me ; he was bleed- 
 ing, and foaming at the mouth. I wanted 
 to bind up his wounds, but he pushed me 
 away, crying, — 
 
 " Come ! come ! I did not kill him, he 
 gave the masonic sign — I dared not kill 
 him — he's lving outside there." 
 
 "Who?'' 
 
 " The man — the man." 
 
 I had great difficulty in getting him to 
 speak the name. It was Sonnenkamp. 
 
 I took a physician with me, and we hur- 
 ried past the wounded calling for help. 
 
 We came to a hill ; there he lay. I could 
 hardly get my breath as I stood there before 
 him, but at last I cried, — 
 
 "Father! " 
 
 " Father ! " screamed he. " Awav ! leave 
 me! " 
 
 He stared at me with glassy eyes. He 
 tore up the grass, and digging out the earth, 
 he buried his face in the fresh mould, 
 trVing to inhale that peculiar odor which 
 had always refreshed him; but he shook 
 his head, appearing unable to perceive the 
 earthy smell. 
 
 He now turned round and stared at me. 
 
 The physican made preparations to dress 
 his wounds, from several of which the blood 
 was flowing. He thrust the physician away 
 with violence. 
 
546 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 "I will not be bound! Off with the 
 whole of you ! " 
 
 I kneeled down, and said that he had not 
 been fighting against his son ; that Roland 
 had been missing for three months, and had 
 evidently been taken prisoner. 
 
 "A prisoner! woe ! woe! woe!" he 
 shrieked. " A prisoner ! Oh, she is to blame 
 
 — she ! she ! I did not want to ! I had to 
 
 — she wanted to ride on horseback — she 
 sits splendidly — to play theamazon. 11 
 
 He burst into a scornful laugh. " On the 
 sea — on the ocean — " continued he," there 
 I wanted to be — I had to follow — I saw 
 her fall — she was beautiful even in death 
 
 — an enchantress — an enchantress ! " 
 The physician beckoned to me ; I knew 
 
 what he meant. I asked him if he desired 
 anything. 
 
 He stared at me. 
 
 ' ' Yonder — give me that — give ! " 
 He pointed to a beautiful heath-plant not- 
 far off. Adams had observed our look and 
 the words. He tore up a whole bunch of 
 ericas, and gave them into the hand of the 
 dying man, who gazed at him with eyes 
 almost starting out of his head. Then a 
 smile came over his face ; drawing himself 
 up with a mighty energy, he fell back utter- 
 ing one terrible shriek, and his limbs were 
 straightened in death. He died with the 
 heath-plants in his clenched hand. 
 
 Oh, how much I have gone through, how 
 much I have been forced to suffer ! Nothing 
 harder can ever befall me. 
 
 As we buried him in the earth, and cover- 
 ed him over with heaths, I wept over a man 
 whose vast powers had led him astray. What 
 would have been his fate, if 
 
 Here I was interrupted in the midst of 
 my writing. Since those lines were penned, 
 I have buried another corpse. 
 
 I was called to Adams, who had neglected 
 having his wounds attended to, and now it 
 was too late. He asked after me. I stood 
 at his bed-side, and with a last exertion of 
 strength, he asked me : — 
 
 " Herr Major, can any one steal a thing 
 like that ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Can a man like that belong to our order, 
 and have the sign ? " 
 
 " You see that he can." 
 
 " What do the brethren have swords for 
 then ? Why did I not — " cried he, gnash- 
 ing his teeth. 
 
 He clenched his fists, raised himself up, 
 and then sank back. His savage nature, 
 which had been only repressed and held in 
 constraint, broke out in the last death- 
 struggle. 
 
 Oh, I can write nothing more. I have 
 
 been deceived in myself. I believed myself 
 fortified against everything, but I am not. 
 I beg you, dear Herr Weidmann, to inform 
 my mother of the death of Manna's and 
 Roland's father. 
 
 If I could only go to sleep, if I could 
 only rest ! 
 
 [Postscript in Manna's hand-writing.] 
 This letter, written thus far, was found in 
 my Eric's pocket when he was drawn from 
 under his horse's hoofs. In his excited, and, 
 in fact, delirious state, he had mounted his 
 horse, thinking he was going into battle. 
 He was thrown. I send the letter. He 
 does not yet recognize any one, and is still 
 delirious, but the physician gives me some 
 hope. 
 
 I shall keep the letter until I can give 
 some more favorable tidings. 
 
 Three days later. 
 
 My husband says that he finds invigora- 
 tion in thinking of you. I have also to-day 
 written to the Mother. 
 
 [Manna to the Professorin.] 
 
 Mother, he is saved ! All anxiety has 
 fled. He is saved ! He was down with a 
 fever days and nights, and did not recog- 
 nize me ; he knew my dogs, Rose and 
 Thistle, but not me. But once he ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 " Oh, the harp-tones ! " 
 
 I telegraphed at once to New York for 
 my harp to be sent to me ; the telegraphist 
 told me of a woman in the place who had a 
 harp ; she lived alone, and her lot had 
 been a hard one, as she had learned after 
 her marriage that her husband had another 
 wife living. I went to see the woman, and 
 this woman is the mother of my Heimchen. 
 The Superior had written to her of the love 
 of her child for me, and I had to relate 
 many things to the mother. And now — 
 yes, we are always living in the midst of 
 wonders ! Heimchen gave to me the harp 
 from which the tones are to come that will 
 give my husband rest. 
 
 I stationed myself in the next room, and 
 with the physician's consent, I played upon 
 the harp. Eric went to sleep, and when 
 he waked, said : — 
 
 " Why does not Manna come ? " 
 
 The physician forbade my entering the 
 room, as it was important he should receive 
 no violent shock. And so I could see him 
 only when his eyes were closed, until at last 
 the surgeon gave his permission. 
 
 In the wanderings of fever he always 
 saw me as I was in the convent when I had 
 on the wings, and he spoke French and 
 laughed at sister Seraphine. The shock of 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 5-17 
 
 my father's death had affected Eric so 
 deeply, that, as the physician told me, he 
 had been for a long time without an hour's 
 sleep. 
 
 Sedatives were given to Eric, but they 
 seemed to be attended with some risk, and 
 had to be discontinued. Then there was 
 another battle. All besought him to keep 
 quiet, as he had already distinguished him- 
 self so highly; but he mounted his horse 
 and rode off. The horse stumbled and 
 threw him headlong, and he was taken up 
 for dead and carried into the hospital. I 
 received the news and hastened hither. 
 Everything is going on well now, but he is 
 still very weak. 
 
 But he begged me, and it is just like him, 
 to confer the pleasure upon the rest of the 
 wounded, so I have to play the harp for 
 hours together. It is an unspeakable re- 
 freshment to the patients, and the surgeons 
 assert that the wounds heal more rapidly, 
 on account of the cheerful state of mind 
 thereby induced. And when I come back 
 to Eric, and the surgeon tells him how 
 beneficial the music is to the sick, his coun- 
 tenance lights up. He speaks but little ; 
 he holds my hand silently, and only says 
 that he has, during his life, talked too 
 much. But, mother, you may feel easy. 
 
 Eric wants to be allowed to write a word 
 to you. 
 
 (In a trembling hand was written as fol- 
 lows :) 
 
 Thy living, loving, beloved son Eric. 
 (Then in Manna's hand-writing:) 
 Don't be alarmed at these unsteady 
 strokes. The physician says that all danger 
 is over, and nothing is needed but absolute 
 rest. 
 
 Oh, mother ! How can I adequately thank 
 the Eternal Spirit that my Eric lives ; that 
 I am not a widow, and that a life is not 
 made fatherless from its very birth ? Be 
 easy ; I remain strong, and I have a three- 
 fold duty in living. 
 
 [Manna to Professor Einsiedel.] 
 I was called in the hospital to a prisoner 
 from the Southern army, severely wounded, 
 who had heard my harp-playing. He asked 
 about me, and was told that I was a Ger- 
 man. The man related to me that he had 
 an uncle in Germany, who had been a 
 book-keeper in a large banking establish- 
 ment. One evening when his uncle was at 
 the theatre, he robbed him and fled. I told 
 him that I had become acquainted with such 
 a man through you at Carlsbad, that is to 
 say, I had seen him ; I gave as good a des- 
 cription of him as I could. The wounded 
 man asserted that it was his uncle, and 
 
 begged me to write to him that he repented 
 of what he had done. He had always 
 hoped that he should become wealthy some 
 day, so as to return and make full restitution ; 
 this could not be realized now, as he must 
 die poor; but he desired that his uncle 
 should know of his repentance. 
 
 You will impart all this to the man. 
 
 [Eric to his mother.] 
 In the midst of the wanderings of my 
 fever, I kept saying to myself: Thou hast 
 promised thy mother to return home safe 
 and sound. Thou must not be ill, must not 
 die. Thou must keep thy word. And 
 this thought was ever by me, sometimes 
 making me quiet, sometimes restless. I was 
 forever thinking that I could certainly do 
 something to force nature to remove the 
 shadows, the heaviness, the dullness which 
 weighed me down. There were two souls 
 in me. And once I very plainly heard you 
 saying to me : Keep perfectly quiet ; you 
 are undermining your life with your perpet- 
 ual thinking ; for once let thinking alone. 
 And then I was standing on the stage at 
 the music festival to sing, but I could not 
 bring out a solitary note. I have gone 
 through a great deal of suffering, but I am 
 now in perfectly good spirits. 
 
 [Doctor Fritz to Weidmann.] 
 A strange riddle has been solved by 
 means of Eric's being wounded, an account 
 of which was given in the newspapers in 
 connection with the victory. A small, deli- 
 cate-looking old man came to me, who ad- 
 dressed me in German, but with difficulty, 
 showing that he had probably not made use 
 of the language for many years. He asked 
 me if I was acquainted with a Major Dour- 
 nay. I said yes, and after a great deal of 
 trouble, I succeeded in finding out that 
 this was Eric's uncle, a man of very great 
 wealth. He wanted to know all about the 
 family, and especially whether his sister 
 Claudine was yet living. Luckily, Knopf 
 could tell him all the particulars. 
 
 [Eric to his mother.] 
 Mother ! My uncle has been found ! 
 Through my fall from the horse, but yet 
 more through Manna's playing on the harp, 
 that was spoken of in the newspapers as 
 some marvellous tale, my uncle came to see 
 Dr. Fritz. My uncle visited me while I 
 was very ill, and I thought that I had seen 
 my father. They tell me that I became so 
 excited that my life was again endangered, 
 and they had to withhold the news until I 
 had wholly recovered. I showed your 
 letter to my uncle, and the old man, who 
 
548 
 
 THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON 1TIE RHINE. 
 
 has heard nothing from Europe for ten 
 years, wept bitterly. He will go back to 
 Europe with us. 
 
 [Knopf to Fassbender.] 
 
 The classic age had great, noble, heroic 
 forms, but it had no uncle in America. 
 And how did the world before Columbus 1 
 day get on without any uncles in America ? 
 I think that our good Lord, as he rested on 
 the seventh day, dreamed, in his mid-day 
 sleep, of the uncle in America, meditated, 
 and created him. 
 
 My friend, Major Dournay, has now 
 found his uncle with a fortune ; I don't 
 know how much it is, but a large one, and 
 all honorably earned. Now he is himself 
 put in a position to solve the riddle of what 
 should be done with so much money. He 
 will not build my music hall, but he will do 
 something else that's great. 
 
 [Doctor Fritz to Weidmann.] 
 
 Two children are born to us. Manna 
 has a son, and Frau Knopf a daughter. I 
 was with Knopf when his daughter was 
 born, and when he saw her face the first 
 time, he exclaimed aloud : — 
 
 " Pure Caucasian race ! " 
 
 Then he acknowledged to me, that in 
 spite of his liking for the negroes, he had 
 always feared that his Rosalie's child 
 would be black, because she had black 
 children so constantly around her, since 
 she had been their teacher with him. And 
 now he is delighted that his daughter, who 
 is to be named Manna Erica, is a pure 
 Caucasian, and he merrily extols the fate 
 which has decreed that the first-born of 
 the girls' teacher shall be a girl. 
 
 Manna's child has received the name of 
 Benjamin Alphonso. Uncle Alphonso is 
 god-father ; he has, in his will, divided his 
 property equally between his sister Clau- 
 dine and his brother's son, and already 
 transferred one-half of it. He means to go 
 to Europe with his nephew, but I do not 
 think the good little man will live long. I 
 have already told you that my daughter 
 Lilian sought out pur young Roland in the 
 enemy's country, and rescued him. Ro- 
 land is still very weak, but his youthful 
 vigor will restore him. 
 
 The great war is drawing to a close, and 
 with the rejoicings over victory we shall 
 celebrate Roland's and Lilian's wedding. 
 They are to remain here with us. 
 
 Roland has borne himself bravely. We 
 are to use the greater part of his property 
 to buy land for the negroes, furnish them 
 with all necessary supplies, and establish 
 schools for them. 
 
 [Eric to his mother.] 
 Mother! Grandmother! all is well. 
 Ah, what more is there to say ? After all 
 our suffering we are happy. And, mother, 
 I am coming, coming home with my wife 
 and child, and Uncle Alphonso. The 
 waves will bejfcr us up, the ship will carry 
 us, the land will stand firm, and, mother, I 
 shall hold you in my arms again, and lay 
 my child in your arms ; we shall live and 
 work. 
 
 [ Eric to Weidmann.] 
 
 We have entered Richmond with our 
 black regiment. 
 
 The noblest experience has been mine : I 
 have been allowed to take part in the great- 
 est struggle of our country. 
 
 Slavery is no more. 
 
 Now let the gentlemen in gowns and bands 
 come, and show us heretics a deed which 
 shall bear such mighty consequences as this. 
 
 • Later. 
 
 Read this ! A murder, an assassina- 
 tion ! Why was it not to be ? Why can 
 nothing be carried out purely to perfection ? 
 Lincoln assassinated ! 
 
 Does it not often seem as if a malicious 
 demon ruled the world ? 
 
 This deed is a standing proof of how far 
 the supporters of an aristocracy, the defend- 
 ers of a privileged class, the deniers of 
 human rights, have sunk into barbarism. 
 In future days such wickedness will not be 
 believed; but now it stands plainly before 
 us as assassination, and not the deed of a 
 single individual ; it is the work of a sworn 
 band of conspirators. 
 
 The fanaticism of the Southern States 
 had burst forth in war, now it has its seal 
 of blood. 
 
 [Knopf to Weidmann.] 
 
 Our friend Dournay's uncle is dead ; he 
 was ill, and the news of the assassination 
 of President Lincoln killed him. 
 
 Eric, Manna, and their child are going 
 home. 
 
 [Eric to Professor Einsiedel.] 
 What I am now interested in arranging 
 is not the filling out of my own life, the new 
 calling into which I have entered. It is the 
 torment attendant on the self-renovation of 
 the modern mind, that doubts and questions 
 immediately set themselves in opposition to 
 action. 
 
 I want to establish a refuge for laborers 
 in the intellectual field, but the question 
 comes up to me : — 
 
 Is not this a direct contradiction to the 
 spirit of this modern age ? 
 
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE. 
 
 549 
 
 Is not the desire for solitude a necessary 
 part of that free individual life which is our 
 noblest characteristic ? 
 
 Could I imagine a Lessing, in his old 
 age, in this house of refuge which I would 
 found? 
 
 Is not the quiet communion with one's 
 self, which is our most precious treasure, 
 destroyed or banished by living in such close 
 relations with others ? 
 
 I think that it is not, and only those who 
 pine for rest shall enter the home. 
 
 I beg you not to consider this as the roof 
 of my life-building ; it is to be only a merry 
 green bough which I would set up. 
 
 [Eric to Weidmann.] 
 This letter goes only three days before us 
 to Europe, to the Rhine. 
 I am coming home. 
 
 Deliver the enclosed legal document to 
 the proper authorities. 
 
 I herein declare that only a life interest is 
 
 retained in Villa Eden for myself and Man- 
 na, my wife. I herein declare the house, 
 the garden, the park, as described in the 
 Registry office, and a sufficient sum, here- 
 after to be determined, irrevocably as- 
 signed for the maintenance of deserving 
 scientific men and artists. 
 
 My friend and teacher, Professor Einsie- 
 del, is commissioned to draw up the rules 
 regulating the admission and the mode of 
 life of those who are to be inmates of Villa 
 Eden. 
 
 My wish is, that there should be a peace- 
 ful refuge for deserving intellectual labor, 
 a home for voluntary work, in Villa Eden, 
 the Country House on the Rhine. 
 
 (P.S.) I have promised Roland, if I 
 live until the year 1887, to come back here 
 to celebrate the hundredth birthday of the 
 American Republic. Then will we see and 
 compare what each of us has accomplished 
 in his father-land and for his fellow-men.