Chapter VIII: Still More Riddles and Their Solution

EARLY next morning, after rattling through the hall with his big boots and spurs, Jul opened the schoolroom door, whence he had heard loud sounds of practising. He knew Miss Hanenwinkel gave no lessons so early in the day and was most surprised to see Lili at the piano, Willi eagerly awaiting his turn to play.

"What is the matter with you?" Jul called in to them. "Is this the beginning of another dreadful scheme of yours?"

"Be quiet, Jul, we don't want to lose any time," Lili replied, in deep earnest.

Jul gave a loud laugh and went his way. He met Miss Hanenwinkel below, and asked her, "What has struck the twins, I wonder? Are they really trying to become virtuous all of a sudden?"

"Children seven years old sometimes succeed better in that, than those of seventeen, Mr. Jul," was the curt answer.

Jul had to laugh, as he went towards the front door. Here he met his mother, who was just about to use this early hour and go to the physician to find out if Dora's injury was really serious. The aunt's frightened words had made her anxious, and she wanted to know if the wound might have serious consequences for the little girl.

"Somebody seems to be playing on the piano, Jul," said his mother. "What can it mean at this early hour?"

"Dear mamma, I think the world is coming to an end," the son replied. "Lili is rushing through her finger exercises as if they were giving her supreme delight, and Willi stands besides her burning to do the same."

"This is curious," remarked the mother, "for only yesterday, Miss Hanenwinkel complained that Lili was even too lazy to practise her little piece, not to speak of her finger exercises, which she would not touch at all."

"As I said before, mamma, the world is nearing its end," concluded Jul, taking leave of his mother.

"Perhaps, on the contrary, it is beginning," she retorted, starting on her errand.

As soon as Mrs. Birkenfeld was admitted to the doctor's office, she inquired after Dora's wound and was informed that it was healing rapidly. To her anxious question if the arm might remain stiff for life, he laughed and said that was out of the question. When young people had been foolish, he often found it advisable to keep them in suspense in order to teach them a lesson, for such a mishap might be more serious a second time. The doctor was quite sure the injury would be healed in a couple of days. Mrs. Birkenfeld was intensely relieved, as she could not have borne the feeling that her thoughtless children had caused the little stranger a permanent injury.

Before returning home, Mrs. Birkenfeld stopped at her neighbor's house to see Aunt Ninette and reassure her, too, about Dora. When talking about the little girl, she heard from the aunt for the first time that Dora, for urgent financial reasons, was to become a seamstress.

This deeply grieved Mrs. Birkenfeld, for Dora seemed too young and frail for such confining, constant work. She was quite glad that the child would have a long holiday before going back to the city. Mrs. Birkenfeld begged the aunt to let Dora off from sewing till her arm was completely healed, and let her be out of doors and play with her own children. A seamstress she knew could sew some shirts meanwhile if necessary.

Mrs. Birkenfeld's quiet, thoughtful ways had a most beneficent influence on Aunt Ninette, who never once complained during their long conversation. All her recent worries had somehow vanished and her outlook had grown bright and cheerful, which made her feel quite strange. She spoke gratefully of her husband's well-being in the pleasant, airy summer house, which he liked so much that he was unwilling to forsake it, even late at night. Upon leaving, Mrs. Birkenfeld invited her neighbor to come to her garden as often as possible, since otherwise she would be so lonely. Aunt Ninette promised to do this, quite forgetting the noisy children who had annoyed her so much at first.

Dora had hardly opened her eyes that morning, when she was out of bed with a jump. The joyful prospect of going over after breakfast had made her wide awake at once. She had to wait quite a little while, though, before she was allowed to go, because her aunt did not approve of being too forward. Only after Mrs. Birkenfeld, who had stayed quite a while, asked for Dora, was she called, and then allowed to go. This time she neither paused nor looked about her shyly, but in a few leaps, was in the corridor of the big house.

Through the open door of the living room, she received a many-sided welcome. The twins, Paula, and Hun, ran towards her and led her into the room.

Jul had just returned from his morning ride and had flung himself into an armchair, stretched out his long legs in front of him, as if extending an invitation for somebody to rid him of his boots. Dora immediately rushed up to him and asked obligingly if she might take them off, taking hold of the boots at once.

But Jul pulled his feet back hastily and exclaimed, "No, no, Dora, how can you dream of such a thing? I won't let you!" Then politely jumping from his seat, he offered it to Dora.

But the twins pulled her along between them and cried loudly, "Come with us, Dora, come with us!"

Hun, who had taken hold of her from behind, cried lustily, "Come with me, come with me!"

Paula whispered into Dora's ear at the same time, "Go with the twins first, or they will only cry and fuss. I will look for you later on."

"Dora," said Jul now, trying to subdue the little ones, "you had better stick to me, if you want to have a peaceful existence in this house. If you spend all your time with Paula, you are bound to become terribly romantic, and that will make you lose your appetite. With Rolf, you will find your whole life turned to an unfathomable riddle."

"Which it is in any case," remarked Miss Hanenwinkel, who at that moment was passing through the room.

"If you spend much time with Miss Hanenwinkel," Jul went on rapidly, in order to give the governess the chance of hearing his words, "you will be salted instead of sweetened like dried plums. If you stay with the twins, they will tear you to pieces, and Hun, sooner or later, will rob you of your sense of hearing."

But despite the threatening dangers, Dora let herself be drawn along by the twins, while Hun followed behind. At the piano, Lili immediately began her song. Whenever she finished playing it, she gazed at Dora, and seeing her listener nod her head, began again. Dora suddenly began to sing, and Willi, who was waiting in vain for his chance to play, joined in with little Hun, thus making a noisy chorus.

"Rejoice, rejoice in life
While yet the lamp is glowing!"

While singing, the musicians got more eager, and little Hun was inspired to the most ear-splitting performance. Suddenly Lili turned about on her stool.

"Just wait, Dora. I'll have a surprise for you tomorrow," the little girl cried with sparkling eyes.

Having practised so faithfully that day, Lili felt herself entitled to learn at least half a dozen new pieces from Miss Hanenwinkel.

A bell rang which called the twins to their lessons, and Hun greatly rejoiced at his chance to have Dora all to himself. She devoted the rest of the morning to him and entered so deeply into the clever tricks of his nutcracker, that he resolved never to let go of her all his life. But his plan was frustrated immediately after lunch. Paula, who had finished her French studies, drew Dora aside, with the mother's full approval. The two felt so much drawn to each other that they would have liked to spend all day and night together, and tell each other everything that they hoped and feared, their past experiences and hopes for the future. Both had the feeling that they could never get tired of each other, even if they spent a lifetime in each other's company.

They again forgot that time was passing, and only at seven o'clock, when the whole family had assembled for supper under the apple tree, the two returned. They seated themselves as quietly as possible, for papa had noticeably cleared his throat as a sign that something was not quite in order. During the meal, Rolf glanced several times at Dora as if to remind her his time had come.

When after supper, they all sat together talking merrily, Rolf kept a watchful eye on the firmament, and as soon as the first star began to sparkle through the branches, he leaped up and ran towards Dora.

"Do you see the star, Dora? Come now!" With this he pulled her with him into the most solitary part of the garden near some walnut trees, thereby preventing his brothers and sisters from taking Dora away from him. Rolf felt secure here, and standing on a suitable post, began to instruct her.

"Do you see your five stars there, Dora? First one alone, then two together and two again. Can you see them?"

"Oh, yes, I know them very well," Dora assured him.

"Good! They are called Cassiopeia, and now I'll show you another. But that reminds me of a charade I made up lately. Could you quickly guess it?"

"I will if I can, but I am afraid your charades are too difficult for me."

"No, no, just listen hard. I'll say it very slowly:"

"'My first in closest bonds can two unite,
My second like the shining sun is bright,
My Whole's a flower that thrives in summer light.'"

"Did you guess it?"

"No, Rolf, I can never guess that; I am so sorry, I know I am dreadfully slow. It will be awfully tiresome for you to be with me," said Dora regretfully.

"Of course not! You are not used to it yet, Dora," Rolf consoled her. "Try it a few times and you'll do it quite easily. I'll say another quite easy one now:"

"'My first is just an animal forlorn.
My second that to which we should be heir,
And with my whole some lucky few are born
While others win it if they fight despair.'"

"I can't guess that one either. Please don't take such trouble with me, Rolf. You see, I never did it before," wailed Dora.

"Wait, you might guess another," and before Dora could deny him, Rolf had begun to recite with a loud voice:

"'My first one oft bestows upon a pet,
My second makes a wholesome kind of bread;
My third is something each one tries to get—
And often spends my whole before he's dead.'"

"I know," said a deep bass voice behind the children, startling them for a moment.

But right after, Dora gave a merry laugh. "It is Uncle Titus. He is still working in the summer house. Come, Rolf, let's go to him."

Rolf was willing, and when the two entered, Uncle Titus, who was comfortably leaning against the wall, looked very much pleased.

Rolf, after replying pleasantly to Mr. Ehrenreich's greeting, asked him casually, if he had guessed the charade.

"I suppose it is patrimony, my son," said Mr. Titus, patting Rolf's shoulder.

"Yes, it is," Rolf answered, pleased. "Did you guess the others, too, Mr. Ehrenreich?" Rolf inquired.

"Possibly, my son," replied Mr. Titus. "Would I be wrong, if I said the first was marigold and the second courage?"

"Oh, you guessed them all!" exclaimed Rolf, rejoicing. "It is wonderful to make charades, if somebody can guess them. I have another, in fact three more. May I ask you another, Mr. Ehrenreich?"

"Surely, dear son, why not?" replied Mr. Titus kindly. "Just say them, and I'll do my best to solve them."

After refreshing his memory a little, Rolf began. "The first is the shortest and easiest:"

"'A tiny thing, my first, which yet may move;
While for my second you need not look far;
To be my third is still against the rule—
My whole goes far beyond what's learned in school.'"

"Can you guess it?"

"Perhaps so; go on."

Rolf went on:

"'My first is what no coward soul will do,
My second you will find in every face;
My third will often we ourselves replace—
My whole a Persian monarch, brave and true.'"

"Do you know it already?"

"Possibly. Now another!"

"A longer one now:"

"'My first a place where corn and wheat are ground,
My second about many a neck is found;
My third with succor does the meaning share,
My fourth is freedom from all work and care.
My whole a famous Greek of long ago,
Who put to rout the mighty Persian foe.'"

"Now, my son, I shall tell you what I think," said Mr. Titus, with a happy smile. "Number one, speculate; number two, Darius; number three, Miltiades!"

"Every one correct! Oh what fun! I have always longed for some one to guess charades," said Rolf, highly satisfied, "but I had to run around with them all unsolved. Now I can start on some fresh ones."

"I make you a proposal, son," said Mr. Titus, getting up from his seat with the intention of going home. "Come to me every night, and bring me the fruits of your reflection. I may give you some to solve, too, some day."

The study of the stars had to be put off for another evening, because it had grown too late.

Happy over the pleasant meeting, Rolf and Dora ran back to the rest of the family, who were expecting them, while Mr. Titus, delighted with having found such a pleasant young friend, went home.

Mr. Titus had always wished for a son, preferably one who came to this world at the age of twelve and had behind him the stage where he found it necessary to cry and scream, one who could be a sensible companion, with whom one could talk. Rolf answered his wishes exactly, while the boy himself was obviously delighted to have Uncle Titus's friendship. The scientist felt a real fatherly affection for the lad, which new emotion unbarred his solitary heart. As he wandered homewards, Uncle Titus suddenly began to sing:

"Rejoice, rejoice in life
While yet the lamp is glowing!"

For the melody had penetrated as far as his hermitage that morning and apparently had proved contagious.

Upstairs at the open window stood Aunt Ninette, saying to herself, "Is this really my husband?"