The Goose Man Part 16

"Get up, Gertrude, get up and come with me!" said Eleanore.

Gertrude was taken back to her room. After she had been in bed for a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. It was Jordan; he asked how she felt. Eleanore told him everything was all right.

Until the moon had disappeared below the church roof, Eleanore sat on Gertrude's bed, and held her mute hand in her own. Though she had thrown a cloak about her shoulders, she was cold. Gertrude lay with open, lifeless eyes. Every movement of Eleanore's face revealed the changing moods of her soul: she was thinking over an unending series of grave thoughts. When it became quite dark, Gertrude turned her face to Eleanore, and said softly: "Please get in bed with me, Eleanore. If I see you sleeping, possibly I can sleep too."

Eleanore laid the cloak to one side, and slipped in under the covers.

The two girls cuddled up to each other, and in a few minutes both were sound asleep.

VOICES FROM WITHOUT AND VOICES FROM WITHIN

I

Daniel gradually gained followers. Those whom the "little slave" won over to his cause were hardly to be called patrons: they were patriots.

They were delighted at the thought that a _maestro_ should have been born and risen to fame in soulful old Franconia. In the actual life of their protege they took but little interest.

Daniel's followers were young people.

Professor Herold was a strange man. His reputation reached far beyond the boundaries of his native province, and yet, owing to his whimsical peculiarities, he had not the slightest desire to leave home. On such sons and daughters of the natives as were diligent in their pursuit of musical studies, he poured out the whole of his sarcasm. His chief, his darling ambition was to wean them away from their fondness for worthless music and clap-trap performances of it. He did not succeed: you were not considered educated unless you could play the piano, and in the homes of these merchants education was highly regarded.

Enticed by his name, all kinds of people came from a distance to take lessons from Professor Herold. Having read the score of "Vineta," he said to two of these: "Fetch me that fellow dead or alive." And they fetched him.

The two came more frequently to Daniel, and then others, pupils of Professors Wackerbarth and Doderlein. At times he would take luncheon with them in the students' restaurant. We will call them the long-haired, or the pale-faced. Many of them looked like snake-charmers.

They were almost without exception hopelessly stupid, but they all had some kind of a bee in their bonnet.

There were some young girls among them; we will call them the dreamy-eyed, or the lost-in-dreams. Daniel had no use for them whatsoever. His patience with the long-haired was equally lacking.

He told "the old man," as Professor Herold was called, of his antipathy to these students. Professor Herold snapped like a vicious dog, brushed the white bristles back over his enormous head, and said: "Well, my young original, you have made a discovery. Don't you know that music cajoles into its magic circle the very riff-raff of any community? Don't you know that music is a subterfuge for the neglect of human duty? Don't you know that the voluptuous fumes it spreads over the cities results in the general corrosion and consumption of men's hearts? Don't you know that of every five hundred so-called artists, four hundred and ninety-nine are nothing but the cripple guard of G.o.d above? Therefore he who does not come to music with the holiest fire burning in the depths of his soul has his blood in time transformed by it into glue, his mind into a heap of rubbish."

Whereat he pushed Daniel out of the door, so that he might work undisturbed on his little pictures. Of these the walls of his room were full. He painted them in his leisure hours. They were small in size, and smaller still in merit; but he was proud of them. They represented scenes from country life.

II

On New Year's Eve, Dormaul, the impresario, gave a dinner in the Little Swan, to which he invited Daniel. Dormaul was quite well disposed toward Daniel. He said he had recognised the young man's talents at the sight of his very first note. He promised to publish "Vineta" and also the work Daniel had finished in the meantime, ent.i.tled "Nuremberg Serenade."

He also seemed inclined to consider favourably Daniel's appointment in his newly founded opera company.

Among those present at the dinner were Professors Herold and Wackerbarth, Wurzelmann, a few of the long-haired and a few of the lost-in-dreams. Andreas Doderlein had promised to come in later. He appeared, as a matter of fact, five minutes before midnight, and stood in the wide-opened door as ceremonious as the New Year itself.

He went up to Daniel, and extended him his right hand.

"Look who's here! Our Benjamin and our John, not to mention our Daniel,"

he said, glancing at the last of the trio. "Congratulations, my young star! What do the annals from Andreas Doderlein's nose for news have to report? Back in Bayreuth, when we used to draw our wine by the flask, he merely had to sniffle around a bit to know just how things were. Isn't that true, Benjamin?"

n.o.body denied it. Benjamin let right yield to mercy. The mighty man removed his storm-cape from his shoulders as though it were ermine he were doffing before condescending to a.s.sociate with ordinary mortals.

Professor Wackerbarth had a wife who beat him and gave him nothing to eat: he regarded this as a rare opportunity to eat his fill and have a good time generally. But it was a poor sort of a good time.

One of the long-haired sang the champagne song, and Wurzelmann made a witty speech. Doderlein suggested that now was the time to let the mice dance and the fleas hop. When one of the lost-in-dreams sang David's March, which according to the rules of Bayreuth could not be cla.s.sed as real music, Doderlein exclaimed: "Give me Lethe, my fair one." By "Lethe" he meant punch.

Daniel drank Lethe too. He embraced old Herold, shook hands with Andreas Doderlein, and tried to waltz with Wurzelmann. He was not drunk; he was merely happy.

Then it became too close for him in the room. He took his hat, put on his overcoat, and hurried out.

The air was warm, mild. A south wind was blowing. Heaven above, heaven below, the houses were standing on clouds. One breath made him thirsty for the next one. There was a bay-window; it was so beautiful that he felt like kneeling before it. There was a fountain; it was so snug and exotic that it seemed like a poem. There were the arches of the bridge; in them was the dim reflection of the water. There were two towers; they were as delicate as a spider's web.

He rejoiced and exclaimed: "Oh world, art thou real? Art thou my world, and am I living in thee? My world, my year, my time, and I in it all, I myself!"

III

He stood on aegydius Place, and looked up at the windows in Jordan's house. They were all dark.

He wanted to call out, but the name that was on his lips filled him with anxiety. The pa.s.sionate flutter of his heart almost tore his breast asunder.

He had to do something; he had to speak; he had to ask questions and hear a human voice. Consequently, he hurried out to the Full, stood under Benda's window, and called Benda's name. The clocks struck three.

The blinds were soon drawn to one side, and Benda's stoutish figure appeared at the open window. "Daniel? Is it you? What's up?"

"Nothing. I merely wanted to bring you New Year's greetings."

"Do you think you are bringing me something good? Go home and go to bed."

"Ah, let me come in a little while, Friedrich. Let's chat for a moment or two about happiness!"

"Be reasonable! We might frighten happiness away by our talk."

"Philistine! Well, give me your blessing at least."

"You have it. Now go, night owl, and let the people sleep."

Another window opened on the ground floor. Herr Carovius's desolate nocturnal physiognomy appeared at the window, looked up, looked down on the disturber of the peace on the street, and with one mighty grim, grinning sound on his lips, his revengeful fist swinging in the meanwhile, the indignant man closed the window with a bang.

Something impelled Daniel to return to aegydius Place. Again he looked up at the windows, this time beseechingly. The storm within his heart became more violent. For a long time he ran through the streets, and reached home at last along toward five o'clock.

As he pa.s.sed through the dark hall, he saw a light up on the landing.

Meta was carrying it. She was already stirring about, ready to begin her morning's work. He hesitated; he looked at her; with three steps he was by her side.

"So late?" she whispered with premonitory embarra.s.sment, and began to finger her dress, which she had not yet b.u.t.toned up.

"Oh, what a joy to take hold of a living human being on this glorious day!" he exclaimed.

She offered some resistance, but when he tried to take her into her room, she bent her body backward, and thus pressed about his wrist. She was still carrying the light.

"Oh, if you only knew how I feel, Meta. I need you. Hold me tight in your arms."