Villa Eden Part 92

The same sun that shone at Wolfsgarten, where Bella was maintaining a severe internal 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 mother sat by the window filled with flowers, in the piano recess, at her silent work, thinking 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 consolation. 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 possession of another soul. At first he mentioned 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 impression 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 a.s.sent to this, for she had also noticed how deeply interested Bella had been in making inquiries concerning Eric's youthful years. But she said further to her sister-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-collection.

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 handwriting, 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 precise; the whole had an appearance of uniformity, 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 grat.i.tude 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 friends.h.i.+p such as he had scarcely dreamed of. Lastly, he appealed to their mutual personal acquaintance, 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 coa.r.s.e 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 postscript 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 sentence 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, 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 entered.

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 execute 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 hundred times: and now it came out so clumsily, 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, I'm 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 Cabinetsrathin, and desired that the letters should be read immediately, as they would render it unnecessary for him to say anything.

The Professorin read, and the Major watched her countenance while she was reading, with peculiar marks of quiet satisfaction.

The Professorin bade him welcome, and called her sister-in-law, who came in.

The blinds were opened, and the instreaming light shone upon cheerful faces.

"What shall we decide upon doing?" asked Aunt Claudine.

"There is no longer any question of deciding; we accept the hearty 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 Major. "You've given me fire, and I promise 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-cla.s.s railroad car towards 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 BESIDES.

Claus and his wife were in the same carriage 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 halberd 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 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 rich 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 nonsense; 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.