The Lost Manuscript Part 88

"According to the account of the lackey, there have been no visitors from the city, nor any letters; everything as usual in the afternoon.

When the strangers were sitting in front of the door, the lady had spoken of a journey to Switzerland, but her husband replied that there could be no thought of it until he had finished his business. Then there had been an uncomfortable silence. In the evening both attended the theatre."

The Sovereign nodded, and dismissed the official. As he sat alone, he pushed his chair against the wall, and listened to the sound of a small bell which, from the further end of the room, was scarcely audible; he hastily opened the door of a niche in the wall, and took out the letters which a confidential secretary had sent up through a tube from the lower story. There were various handwritings: he pa.s.sed quickly through the contents. At last he held a bundle of children's letters in his hand. Again he laughed. "So the great ball has burst already." His countenance became serious. "A genuine peasant, he has no sense for the honor of having the top-boots of a prince among his fields." He took another letter. "The Hereditary Prince to his sister. It is the first letter of the pious John Patmos, saying nothing, as if it had been written for me. That may possibly be so. The contents are scanty and cold. He expresses the wish that his sister also may pa.s.s a pleasant time in the country. We wish the same," he continued, with good humor; "she may pluck flowers and talk with scholars about the virtues of Roman ladies. This wish shall be fulfilled by all parties." He laid the letters back in the niche, and pressed a spring in the floor with his foot; there was a slight rustling in the wall, and the packet glided down.

The Sovereign raised himself from his chair and walked about the room.

"My thoughts hover restlessly about this man. I have received him with complaisance; I have even treated his insane hopes with the greatest consideration, and yet this unpractical dreamer mocks at me. Why did he make this insidious attack on me? He did it with the malicious penetration of a diseased person, who knows better than a sound one what is deficient in another. His prating was half vague reflection and half the silly cunning of a fool who also carries about him a worm in his brain. It does not matter: we know one another, as the Augur knew his colleagues. Between us a family hatred burns, such as can only exist between relations--an enduring, thorough hatred, which conceals itself beneath smiles and polite bows. Trick for trick, my Roman cousin. You seek a ma.n.u.script which lies concealed with me, but I something else, which you would withhold from me."

He sank back in his chair, and looked timidly towards the door; then put his hand into a pile of books, and drew out a translation of Tacitus. He tapped the book with his finger.

"He who wrote this was also diseased. He spied incessantly into the souls of his masters; their pictures so filled his fancy, that the Roman people and the millions of other men appeared unimportant to him: he suspected every step of his rulers, yet neither he nor his generation could do without them. He gazed at them as on suns, the eclipse of which he investigated, and which reflected their light on him, the little planet. He began to doubt the wisdom of the order of things; and that to every human mind is the beginning of the end. But he had wit enough to see that his masters became diseased through the miserable meanness of those like himself, and his best policy was that of the old High Steward, to bear all with a silent obeisance."

He opened the leaves.

"Only one, whom he has included in his book," he began again, "was a man, whom it moves one to read about. This was the gloomy majesty of Tiberius: he knew the rabble, and despised them, till the miserable slaves at last placed him among the madmen. Do you know, Professor Tacitus, why the great Emperor became a weak fool? No one knows it--no one on earth but me, and those like me. He went mad because he could not cease to be a man of feeling. He despised many and hated many, and yet he could not do without the childish feeling of loving and trusting. A common youth, who had once shown him personal devotion, caught hold of this fancy of his earthly life, and dragged the powerful mind down with him into the dirt. A miserable weakness of heart converted the stern politician of Imperial Rome into a fool.

The weak feelings that rise up in lonely hours are the undoing of us all; indestructible is this longing for a pure heart and a true spirit--undying the seeking after the ideal condition of man, which is described by the poet and believed in by the pedant." He sighed deeply; his head sank on the table between his hands.

There was a slight sound at the door. The Sovereign started. The servant announced--"The Grand Marshal von Bergau." The Grand Marshal entered.

"The Princess inquired at what hour your Highness will take leave of her."

"Take leave?" asked the Sovereign, reflecting. "Why?"

"Your Highness has been pleased to order that the Princess shall this morning go to her summer castle for a few days."

"It is true," replied the Sovereign. "I am well today, dear Bergau, and will breakfast with the Princess. Will it be agreeable to you to accompany her?" he asked, kindly.

"I am very grateful to my gracious master for this favor," replied the Grand Marshal, honestly.

"What lady has the Princess chosen as her attendant?"

"As your Highness has given her the choice, she has decided upon Lady Gottlinde."

"I agree to that," said the Sovereign graciously. "The good Lady Gottlinde may be invited to breakfast, and you yourself may come also, that I may see you all once more about me before the journey. I have one more thing to say. Mr. Werner will follow you; he wishes to examine the rooms and chests of the castle for his scientific purposes. Render him a.s.sistance in every way, and show him the greatest attention. I have also a confidential commission for you."

The Grand Marshal made a piteous face, which plainly indicated a protest.

"I wish to win for us this distinguished man," continued the Sovereign.

"Sound him as to what place or distinction would be acceptable to him.

I wish you to observe that I am most anxious to keep him."

The Grand Marshal, much discomposed, answered:

"I a.s.sure your Highness, with the greatest respect, that I know how to value your confidence, yet this commission fills me with consternation; for it exposes me to the danger of exciting the displeasure of my gracious master. I have had opportunities of remarking that one cannot count upon grat.i.tude from these people."

"You must not offer him anything; only endeavor to make him express some wish," replied the Sovereign dryly.

"But if this wish should exceed the bounds of moderation?" asked the Marshal hesitatingly.

"Take care not to object to it; leave it to me to decide whether I consider it immoderate. Send me a report immediately."

The Sovereign gave the signal of dismissal; watched sharply his bow and departure, and looked after the departing gentleman and gravely shook his head.

"He is not old, and yet the curse has overtaken him; he becomes grotesque. Here is another riddle of human nature for you learned gentlemen: the person who has every hour to control his countenance and manner, to whom the most rigid tact and correct forms are necessary in his daily intercourse, should, just when he becomes older, lose this best acquisition of his life, and become troublesome by his weak chattering and unrestrained egotism. You know how to answer. Emperor Tiberius, why your service, clever man, gradually made your servants caricatures of your own character? Now they have revenged themselves on you; it is all right. There is a desperate rationality in the links of the world. O misery, misery, that we should both have so little cause to rejoice at it!"

He groaned, and again buried his head in his hands.

Shortly after Ilse received the latest letters from home.

"How can the four-leaved clover be lost out of a well closed letter?"

she asked her husband. "Luise, on her birthday, found some clover leaves and sent them in her former letter, to bring you good luck. The child is just at the age in which such nonsense gives pleasure. The dried clover was not in her letter, and as she is careless, I scolded her for it in my answer. To-day she a.s.sures me that she put them into the envelope the last thing."

"It may have fallen out when you opened the letter," said the Professor consolingly.

"My father is not contented with us," continued Ilse, discomposed; "he does not like it that the Prince has come into the vicinity; he fears distraction in the farm and gossip. Yet why should people gossip? Clara is still half a child, and the prince does not live upon our estate.

There is a dark cloud over everything," she said; "the light of the dear sun has ceased to s.h.i.+ne. Nothing but disturbances, the Sovereign ill, and our Hereditary Prince vanishes as if swept away by a storm.

How could he go away without bidding us good-bye? I cannot set my mind to rest as to that; for we have not deserved it of him, nor of his courtly Chamberlain. I fear he does not go into the country willingly; and he is angry with me, Felix, because I said something about it. No good will come of it, and it makes me heavy at heart."

"If this trouble leaves you any thought for the affairs of other people," began the Professor, gaily, "you must allow me a small share.

I think I have found the hidden castle which I have so long sought. I see from this chronicle that in the last century the country seat to which the Princess is going was surrounded by a forest. I hear that in this remote place much old household rubbish is preserved. I feel like a child on the eve of its birthday. I have made known my wishes to fate, and when I think of the hour when the present shall come to me, I feel the same heart-beating expectation which scares away sleep from the boy. It is childish, Ilse," he continued, holding out his hand to his wife, "I know it is; but have patience with me; I have long wearied you with my dreams, but now it will come to an end. The hope indeed will not come to an end, but this is the last place I have any reason to search for it."

"But if it should again happen that you do not find the book?" asked Ilse, sorrowfully, holding his hand.

A gloomy expression came over the Professor's face; he turned around abruptly, and said, harshly:

"Then I shall seek further. If Fritz had but come!"

"Was he to come?" asked Ilse, with surprise.

"I have requested him to do so," replied her husband. "He answered that his father's business and his relations with Laura prevented him. To him also it appears that a crisis is impending; he has suspicions with respect to the specification that I found here, which I consider unfounded."

"Oh, that he were with us!" said Ilse; "I long for a friendly face, like one who has for many days been traveling through a desert wilderness."

The Professor pointed towards the window.

"This wilderness looks tolerably humanized, and a visitor, such as you desire, seems already coming up to the house."

Ilse heard the rumble of wheels coming along the gravel of the castle road. A carriage stopped before the Pavilion, and the country coachman cracked his whip. The servants hastened to the door; Gabriel opened the carriage door; a little lady descended, gave a parcel to the lackey and a bandbox to Gabriel, and called out to the coachman to inquire about putting up the horses. She hastily ascended the steps, and, as she did so, gazed on the paintings and carved scrolls.

"This is a great pleasure, Mrs. Rollmaus," exclaimed Ilse, delighted, meeting her at the door.

The Professor hastened to the stranger and offered her his arm.

"My dear Ilse," cried the little lady; "revered and highly honored Professor, here I am. As Rollmaus has been charged with the superintendence of an estate in the neighborhood, in trust for a nephew, and as he has had to travel into this country to put things in order, and will stop only a short time, I thought I would take the pleasure of paying you a visit. Your father, brothers, and sisters wish to be remembered to you. Clara is growing up the very image of you."