Waldfried Part 30

I declined with thanks, as I had promised Annette to make use of the vacant dwelling that belonged to her.

CHAPTER XI.

The deputies were all in a state of great excitement. There is no greater test of accord among a body of men than a sudden calamity. Just as, with an individual, a lazy resignation will, in times of doubt and indecision, alternate with vehement energy, and self-distrust succeed overconfidence, so did it happen with this large a.s.sembly. All felt that a bold operation was necessary, but who was to be the surgeon, and whence was he to come. It was necessary to wait for the hour of danger, and even then there was great reason to fear that when the treatment had been decided on, our cousin on the other side of the Rhine, who had been praised as the great saviour, might interpose his objections.

In a secret session, we were informed of the stipulations that had been determined on by the North German Confederation in regard to a union of German forces, in case of coming danger. We were sworn to secrecy, for all were afraid of our neighbor in the west.

My son-in-law, the Major, left on a long furlough. I have never yet been able to discover whether he pa.s.sed his time in Paris or in Berlin.

The work and the angry debates in Parliament taxed our patience and endurance to the utmost.

When I returned to my home, I was frightened by my wife's appearance; her face showed the traces of great suffering. Although I took all pains to prevent her from seeing that I noticed it, she discovered my concern, and a.s.sured me that she was feeling quite well, but was sometimes weak; and that all would be right again in the summer, when she would accompany Annette to the springs. She was so active and cheerful that I silenced my fears. She had already learned of the death of our grandson Martin, and spoke of it with calmness.

She informed me of Martella's kind and considerate behavior. Rothfuss had been sick again, and even now was only able, with great exertion, to drag himself about the house. Martella took charge of all his duties, and, what with this and her instructions from mother and Annette, was kept quite busy; but she was never so happy and cheerful as when full of work.

My wife took great pleasure in explaining to me what strange counterparts Annette and Martella were.

Annette was endeavoring to free herself from the effects of overwrought culture and to get back to simplicity. Martella, who had become conscious of her own simplicity, was vexed thereat, and with iron industry sought to acquire the rudiments of an education. Annette had always lived out of herself; Martella had always lived within herself.

Annette had always tried to subject everything to critical a.n.a.lysis: Martella was merely artless impressibility.

It was certainly a strange pair that my wife was teaching to keep step with each other.

With great self-control Annette had accustomed herself to the quiet winter life of the village. She often said that she would leave in a few days. She seemed determined not to commit herself by any promise, in order that she might from day to day make new resolutions. When I told her that she was thus making both herself and us uncomfortable, she promised to remain until I should advise her to leave. She admitted that it was pleasant to her to be guided by another's will. She spun a.s.siduously, and, like a diligent child, showed me the result of her labor.

The old spinner maintained that Annette was learning all the secrets of her art. In spite of this, she was at times unable to control her restless spirits. She had the snow cleared away from the pond, and went skating on the ice, while half of the village stood around looking at her. My sons had sometimes skated on this pond; but it was quite a different sight to see the tall, handsome lady, with the black feather in her hat and the closely fitting pelisse trimmed with fur. She ordered a pair of skates for Martella, but could never induce the child to try them.

Annette left us occasionally in order to spend a few days with Baroness Arven. On her return it would always seem as if a wondrous change had come over her.

One day she came back in great excitement and exclaimed:

"Oh, if I could only have faith! I think I shall have to administer chloroform to my soul."

We could make no reply to this, and she soon again adapted herself to the quiet tenor of our life.

I was obliged to introduce a change that gave me almost as much trouble as my opponents in the House of Delegates had done. It was necessary to engage some one to replace or a.s.sist Rothfuss. I could do nothing without his consent; several whom I had proposed he had rejected, and when I at last obtained Joseph's consent to engage Carl, Rothfuss was scarcely pleased, although he interposed no objections.

Rothfuss always insisted that Carl, while a soldier, had behaved in the same way as the girl who said, "Catch me: I'll hold still."

He had allowed himself to be caught. If Ernst had only been smart enough to do likewise!

For the sake of his affection for Ernst, Carl submitted to this unjust reproach. He was indeed a brave and daring soldier, and felt provoked that during the whole war there had been nothing but marching hither and thither, back and forth, without once meeting the foe.

Rothfuss and Martella had much to say to each other about Ernst, to whom Martella clung with unshaken confidence.

Whenever the letter-carrier came, she was all anxious expectation, but had enough self-control to conceal her feelings for my wife's sake.

My wife never mentioned Ernst's name, but ever since the day on which news had come from him, her sleep had been restless.

When I returned from the session she said to me, "I am sure you have no news that you are concealing from me?"

I could truthfully a.s.sure her that I had none, and after that she seemed as tranquil as if she had been speaking of an indifferent subject. And yet this grief preyed on her incessantly.

Annette received many letters; and, as she could have nothing to do with any one without feeling a personal interest in him, she would always have something to eat and drink ready for the country letter-carrier. She soon knew all about the toil and trouble inseparable from his work, and also inquired in regard to his family circ.u.mstances, and a.s.sisted him as well as she could.

She ordered a sheep-skin coat for him, but he was obliged to decline it, because in his walks over hill and dale the weight of it would have been insupportable. She presented the skin to a poor old man; and, indeed, tried to do good to every one in the village and neighborhood.

The oldest house in the neighborhood is yet standing down in the valley. It is built of logs, and is known as _the hut_. The smoke fills the whole house and forces its way out through the crevices.

Annette found this smoky atmosphere particularly grateful. She often went down to the hut, and the people would come from the houses near by and listen to her stories and her strange jokes. She was always in good spirits on her return.

Annette had once encountered Rautenkron. She attempted to engage him in conversation, but he rudely turned on his heel; and when she was telling us of the manhater, my wife made a remark which I shall never forget:

"This man must have come from a respected and well-to-do family, for the child of poor parents can never become a misanthrope."

Although Annette kindly cared for the poor and did not permit herself to be repelled by any rudeness or vulgarity on their part, she was both severe and void of pity with the faults of those who were in better circ.u.mstances.

r.i.m.m.i.n.ger, who had taken his discharge and had married the only daughter of the rich owner of the saw-mill, endeavored, as an old comrade of her deceased husband, to bring about friendly relations between Annette and his household. She kept him at a distance, however, and expressed herself quite forcibly on the subject. She maintained that the young wife always looked like an _ennuied_ d.u.c.h.ess, and was constantly trying to show that she had been educated in Paris.

My wife said that she disapproved of such personalities. Annette looked at her with surprise and then cast her eyes to the ground.

Our days were full of work, our evenings all leisure; and Annette called our attention to something that had never occurred to us. She found it very strange that there were no playing-cards in our house.

She could not conceive how, living in the country, we could have overlooked this pastime. But we had never felt the want of it.

Annette had a rich, musical voice, and would often read aloud to us.

Joseph and his wife would come and listen, while Martella would spin so softly that one could not hear her wheel.

Rothfuss would sit on the bench near the stove, and would artfully prevent us from noticing when he fell asleep. When the reading was over, he was always wide-awake, and would insist on being permitted to light the way to Joseph's house for Annette.

In her letters to Richard, my wife described our pleasant genial life; and yet, for the first time, Richard did not visit us once during the whole winter. He regretted that he had an extensive work in hand which could not be laid aside, and believed that he was about to finish a novel and important contribution to his favorite science.

Annette had procured various fugitive articles of Richard's that had been published in scientific journals, and during the winter had read all of his books, as well as an essay of his on the "Origin of Language."

She once said: "I do not consider it vanity when a writer asks me, 'Have you read such and such work of mine?' How can he believe that one faithfully listens to his words if one does not care to become acquainted with the best that he has done--the fruit of the deepest labors of his calmer hours?

"I read the Professor's writings, and find much in them that I cannot understand; but he wrote them, and I read them for that reason, if for no other. And then again, I often chance on pa.s.sages which are quite clear to me."

My wife looked at me with a significant glance, and for the first time it occurred to me that it might be possible that Richard was in love with Annette, and for that reason held himself aloof from her.

It was towards the end of February. There was grief among our nearest friends. Joseph's father died. On the day that he was buried, Annette received a letter informing her of the illness of her mother-in-law in Paris.

I, of course, advised her to depart at once; and thus we were again left to ourselves. We all felt the void that Annette's departure had made, but soon after new and heavy troubles fell upon us.