Chapter I (1)

I must preface the following record with the entreaty that it may not be regarded as puerile vanity if I begin with my insignificant self and allow my own personality to appear in the course of my story more frequently than it may deserve. The nature of the case requires it. My own valueless destiny is as inseparably connected with the life of the principal personage as the insignificant thread is a part of the pearl necklace whose costly gems are strung upon it. Unfortunately, there are some parts where the jewels are missing, and then only the gray thread appears. But I will try to make these spaces as short as possible; for I am only too well aware that my own existence has merely gained what little worth it possesses because Providence brought me into the vicinity of so rare a creature, and permitted me to move around her and receive light and warmth, as a planet from the sun.

True, I certainly did not begin life with so modest an estimate of myself. Nay, I imagined that I was well fitted to let my light shine as the center of a little planetary system of my own. At a very early age I was praised in my family and notorious among my school-fellows as a pattern boy, and the blows I received from the latter--and had richly deserved by my ridiculous boasting--only helped to increase my arrogance. All exalted minds, I said to myself, have been obliged to atone for their superiority by calamity and persecution. Nay, I even went so far as to compare myself with the Son of man, and should not have been surprised had some Herod yearned for the life of the child who felt himself destined to redeem the poor, sinful world, and meanwhile showed his teachers in the town-school contemptible cajolery and faultlessly written exercises.

When I was fourteen my father, who was a true Christian and a faithful servant of the Word, was transferred from the town parish to be superintendent in Berlin. My mother had died young, and my father, who was completely absorbed in his official duties, left me--with too much confidence--to myself. An elderly, somewhat weak-minded aunt, who even in the great city kept house for us, regarded me as a small miracle, and, therefore, had neither judgment nor power to uproot the weeds of spiritual arrogance from my heart. The latter had already flourished so rankly that they continued to grow luxuriantly even in the freer air of the capital. When, at eighteen, I entered the university, I instantly formed a pietistical society, which behaved almost like a students' consistory. We preached to each other to our hearts' content, debated the most difficult theological points of controversy, wrote hymns, which I set to music and accompanied on our harmonium; in short, we were a set of insufferable young saints, not a single one of whom, had he knocked at the door of heaven with his long locks and meekly turned-down collar, would Saint Peter have admitted.

I need scarcely state that I held aloof from all worldly amusements, considered the theatre a vestibule of hell, and the other beautiful arts as mere pagan jugglery. But the thing that now seems to me the drollest of all is the relation I then occupied toward the female sex. With the best intentions, I could imagine pure maids and matrons in no other guise than as a devout congregation in Sunday attire, gazing upward in gentle ecstasy at their pastor, and drinking in with fervent gratitude the heavenly dew that fell from his lips. In some far remote background of time I beheld one of these humble creatures nestling in my embrace, trembling in the ecstasy of her bliss, and overwhelmed with gratitude at the knowledge of being chosen before all her sisters to stand by the side of the man of God--whom she had long secretly worshiped--as his unworthy wife, iron his snow-white bands, embroider his slippers, and write down his sermon every Sunday.

In this state of supernal self-glorification, I considered it only natural that, as soon as I had passed my examination with special brilliancy, and crossed the threshold of the position of candidate, the most advantageous projects should open to me from more than one direction. My dear father's heart was far too kind, and he practiced the injunction of Christian charity of his own impulse in too wide a sense, to permit him to find his salary sufficient either in the little town or the great capital, and when suddenly summoned from this life he left me nothing but his blessing and a choice theological library, the only luxury he had ever allowed himself.

I was now forced to rely, with God's assistance, upon myself, and as, with all the innocence of the dove, I possessed a sufficient measure of the wisdom of the serpent, I did not merely examine superficially the three places offered to me, but made careful inquiries to discover in which one I should have the softest bed. All three were tutor's situations in the country, with a prospect of the pastorate, which would fall vacant in a longer or shorter time. I decided in favor of the estate of the most aristocratic of the three employers, who also owned two villages located in a region described to me as being very fertile and not lacking in rural beauty. The pastor there was almost eighty; the baron's children, whom I was to teach, were but two in number, a boy, and a girl twelve or fourteen years old; my patron was reported to be particularly strict in his religious views, and--a fact by no means least influential--his letter, which my dear father received with tears of joy on his death-bed and read aloud to me in a trembling voice, expressed emphatic praise of my admirable self, a pleasant report of my gifts and virtues having spread through the country.

So in my heart I praised God, who so paternally provided a fitting career for his favorites here below, embraced my poor old aunt, who was left behind in a wretched attic, and set forth on the journey to my paradise with proud hopes and a joyousness but slightly subdued by my recent grief.

* * * * *

This exalted mood was somewhat depressed when, on reaching the last railway-station, I vainly looked for the coach in which I was to make my entry into the place of my destination. The baron had written that he would send for me. I expected nothing less than a splendid carriage, not drawn by four horses, it is true, but perhaps hung with garlands as befits a young ecclesiastical conqueror. Instead, there was nothing stopping at the station but an insignificant cart, which I suspected was generally used for the transportation of calves or sheep, drawn by two plow-horses, dejectedly switching their long tails to and fro. An old man-servant, who did not even take the stump of a pipe from his mouth when he came up to me, asked in his surly Low German dialect if I was the tutor whom he was to take to the estate, then, with many a muttered oath, lifted my trunk and three heavy boxes of books into the cart, and pointed with his whip to the seat, where the sole provision made for my comfort was a thin leather cushion.

He himself--after relighting his pipe and starting his horses by a drawling Hi-i!--trudged beside the cart as it creaked slowly along.

I tried to bear my disappointment with Christian resignation, and, after we had gone a few hundred paces, asked in my gentlest voice how far the castle was, and whether we were to go the whole distance at a walk.

The horses were plowing all day yesterday, growled the old man, and the road was too bad for them to trot. We should be two hours at least, "p'raps a bit more"; the sand began just beyond the next village, and then, with the big boxes, we should move still more slowly.

Rustic ways! I thought, to console myself, jolted about on my hard seat for a while longer, and, at the beginning of the sandy road, which ran sometimes between fields and meadows, sometimes between low fir-woods, sprang nimbly from the cart to relieve the panting animals. It was toward the end of April, a warm spring wind blew over the wide, quiet country, the crows were perched in dense flocks on the freshly turned furrows, and the low twittering of birds was heard from the bare tops of the birches. At three and twenty the theological bark around my heart was not yet hard enough to prevent all this stir and movement of Nature from penetrating it. In a very short time, while striding a few horse-lengths ahead of my vehicle, I was so happy in the thought of my God that I seemed to myself like King David, and my great wooden trunk the ark of the covenant, and could scarcely refrain from falling into a dancing step and letting the hymns I was singing in my heart escape my lips.

Yet I was glad when the two hours and "p'raps a bit more" were over, and old Krischan, pointing with his whip to the roof of a tower, visible between the lofty elms in the avenue, muttered between his teeth: "Here we are!"

I had made several vain efforts on the way to question him about the lord of the castle and his family. I had learned nothing except that the baron was "a bit strict," and the old baroness "always very kind and gracious." Of the heir he only uttered a significant hum! and of the pastor merely said, "He's poorly just now." So my curiosity and impatience increased with every step the horses took in the grinding sand; and, as the rural charms of which I had dreamed were nowhere visible, the village through which I passed differed in no respect from an utterly unattractive Mark hamlet, and the few women and children who stared at me from the doors of the houses appeared extremely indifferent to the great event of my arrival, I climbed back with a sigh into the cart as we turned into the avenue and traversed the rest of the way at a trot.

We drove directly up to the castle, which looked very stately through the bare branches, and, as the road at last passed over a slight ascent, the horses relapsed into their former comfortable walk. Yet we overtook a queer little cart, to which the--according to the Mark ideas--considerable hill gave more trouble than to us.

A very old woman had harnessed herself and a spotted dog to a small hand-cart, heavily laden with a large, well-filled sack, several bundles of fagots, and various utensils and tools, the whole, tied together with old ropes, towering so high aloft that the swaying structure could scarcely keep its balance. The little dog's red tongue was hanging out of its mouth, and the old dame panted and coughed as she bent under the drawing-rope, which cut deep into her shoulder. Spite of her four-footed assistant, she could scarcely have pulled the load up-hill, had not a vigorous push from behind aided her. This was given by a tall, slender figure, a young lady dressed in city style, who, with both hands braced against the back, walked firmly on, relieving the toiling pair of half the weight.

As we passed she merely turned her face toward us for a moment without the slightest change of expression. I could not see her features distinctly, owing to the shifting play of the shadows cast by the bare branches above, but I perceived that the face was young and grave. It made a singular impression on me, though she flashed but a single glance at me and then instantly lowered her eyes. I noticed too that her smoothly brushed hair, over which she had knotted a black kerchief, was of a remarkable dark golden hue, somewhat similar to amber. I perceived also that she wore a blue polonaise of rather old-fashioned cut, trimmed with a narrow border of gray fur. Then the old vehicle was left behind, and I did not venture to look back.

"That's the Canoness!" said Krischan, who had taken his pipe out of his mouth and lifted his cap respectfully; "and the old one is Mother Lieschen."

"The Canoness!" I repeated in surprise. "Has the baron so old a daughter?"

"No, sir. The baron's daughter is only fourteen. She's Fraeulein Leopoldine. But the Canoness--hi!"

He urged on his bays with a loud crack of the whip, for we were just turning out of the avenue into the castle court-yard. I was obliged to repress my curiosity for the present.

* * * * *

The castle really did honor to its name. It was a very large building, dating back from the commencement of the previous century, with a lofty lower story, to which led a double flight of broad steps, above which was a second story richly decorated with stucco ornaments--a style, however, that did not exactly harmonize with the peaked roof and irregular attic windows. From this central building a wing extended at right angles on the left almost to the avenue of elms, while the right wing, which, as I afterward learned, had been destroyed by a great fire, was replaced by a clumsy square tower three stories high. Yet this tower bore above its four gables a gigantic cupola, garnished with pinnacles and battlements of all sorts, which gave it an air of chivalrous boldness.

A servant in a light-green livery received me at the top of the steps, said that his master was expecting me, and ushered me into the house with condescending familiarity, as if he considered me a sort of colleague. The cool, dim hall paved with tiles, the broad stone staircase, the antlers that adorned the walls, the numerous servants of both sexes, who were peeping curiously from different doors, produced a strong impression upon me, though I secretly regretted the absence of a more formal reception by my future patron's assembled family. But I consoled myself with the thought that this was the genuine aristocratic demeanor, and resolved to maintain my own dignity and command the respect due my ecclesiastical character even from high-born laymen.

Meantime I had climbed the steep stairs to the highest story in the tower till I was fairly out of breath. But when I entered the apartment the footman showed me as mine, I was instantly reconciled to the quarters gained by the toilsome ascent. It was a corner room with four wide, almost square windows, which afforded a most superb view, over the tops of the trees in the avenue, of fields and moorland, forest and farms, and the village houses gathered about the handsome village church like a flock of chickens around the clucking hen. The whole scene was steeped in the brightest noonday sunlight, and filmy bluish clouds floated from the chimneys of the low straw-thatched roofs, pierced by single sunbeams, and swayed to and fro by a fresh April breeze.

Dinner would be served in fifteen minutes, the servant said. Did the Herr Candidate want anything? I asked for my trunks, and had just time to brush the dust of my journey from my clothing, when a big, hollow-sounding bell, which roused a welcome echo in my empty stomach, began to ring in the hall below.

I cast one more glance into the tiny mirror, which, like the rest of the furniture, did not produce a very magnificent impression, and, after having combed my hair smoothly, and pushed my long locks neatly behind my ears, descended the steep tower-stairs, spite of the consciousness of my ecclesiastical dignity, with a somewhat quickened pulsation of the heart.

The dining-room was on the lower floor, directly behind the entrance-hall, a vaulted apartment, whose four high windows looked out upon the garden. The wide glass door in the center opened on a small terrace, from which a few steps led to the flower-beds. But I did not notice all this at my first entrance, as my whole interest was engrossed by the various persons who were assembled.

A tall, extremely dignified gentleman, with very handsome, regular features, and mustache and whiskers cut in military fashion, came up to me, held out his well-kept hand, and said, in a voice whose musical tones he himself seemed to enjoy: "May the Lord bless your coming and going, Herr Candidate!"

I bowed silently, and was led to a little lady attired in a black silk dress and a large white lace cap, who sat in the depths of a tall arm-chair.

"Here, my dear Elizabeth," said the baron, "I present to you Candidate Johannes Weissbrod, who, with God's blessing, will aid us in the education of our Achatz! Achatz!" he called, turning to a pale-faced boy, evidently backward in mental development, who stood giggling with a tall young girl at the other end of the hall. The lad came slowly forward, eying me askance with mingled shyness and defiance, and only at his father's repeated desire gave me a thin yellow hand. I noticed at the first glance the striking resemblance between him and his mother. The latter was remarkably plain; she had a shrunken, withered face, which strongly reminded me of old General Zieten, to whom, I afterward learned, the baroness was distantly related. Even a little Hussar mustache was not lacking, and the sight of the tiny witch-like scarecrow was so melancholy, especially by the side of her husband's stately figure, that in my first confusion I actually forgot the fine speech with which I had intended to present myself, and could only bow silently and kiss the diminutive hand the little specter extended to me.

But, as I straightened myself again, a warm, irresistibly kind glance fell upon me from the small gray eyes, and such a touching, child-like voice came from the little withered mouth, saying, "I shall be deeply grateful to you, Herr Candidate, for everything you do in behalf of my dear son," that I lowered my eyes in actual confusion, and felt a sincere reverence for the little lady, whom I had just held in such light esteem. I would make every possible effort, I stammered, laying my hand on the boy's rough fair locks. But he shook off the friendly touch so rudely that I instantly saw that the effort would certainly be no easy one.

Meantime his sister had also approached me. She bore as strong a resemblance to her handsome father as the boy to his mother. I addressed a pleasant remark to her, which she answered by a haughty curl of her full red lips. But there was still another feminine member of the company, a lady, whom I supposed to be about thirty, not so tall as the young baroness, but of a more elegant figure and with serpent-like swiftness of motion. "This is a beloved member of our household, Mademoiselle Suzon Duchanel," said the baron, as he led me to her. "She is a true blessing from the Lord to us all, shortening the long hours to my suffering wife, helping my daughter in her French lessons, and sometimes chatting my own anxieties away." As he spoke he bent over the young lady's hand, and, with chivalrous gallantry, pressed it to his lips.

I know not why the act displeased me. My knowledge of the world and society was still slight, and nothing could be more natural than an act of courtesy by which the master of the house endeavored to lighten the discomfort of a subordinate position to a lady. Nor was there anything worthy of censure in the Frenchwoman's conduct. She was studiously polite to every one, not excepting her insignificant fellow-slave, myself, and, after becoming accustomed to a certain piercing light in her dark eyes, no one could help thinking her attractive. So I could only explain my strange aversion by the belief that, in her society, I was almost always conscious of my defective French, and therefore, though she spoke to me only in German, I felt her presence as an embarrassment.

We were about to take our places at the table, which, set for eight persons, stood in the middle of the room. The baron had already escorted his little wife to her seat opposite to the glass door, and the young heir had seized his sister's braids to drive her to the table like a horse, when the door into the hall opened and another person appeared, a tall, thin man in a plain gray hunting-coat, with horn buttons, high boots, and a shabby gray felt hat on his head. It was evident at the first glance that he must be a brother of the master of the house, only he lacked the elegance that pervaded the latter's whole appearance.

He entered noiselessly with a slight smile, half sad, half humorous, that lent his beautiful beardless lips a very pleasant expression, went slowly up to the mistress of the house, whose hand he silently kissed, and nodded to his niece, but without vouchsafing me anything more than an indifferent glance.

"Where is Luise?" asked the baron.

The little old lady gazed at him with a look of timid entreaty. I noticed that he had some angry remark on his tongue, but his son interposed.

"She harnessed herself to Mother Lieschen's dogcart," he said loudly, with a jeering laugh, which displeased me extremely; and then whispered into his sister's ear so that all could hear, "I laughed at her well, and she tried to hit me, but I was spryer."

And the little toad giggled spitefully.

The baron uttered a few words in French, which I did not understand. Then he clasped his hands on the back of the chair, and said: "Let us thank the Lord."

He asked a blessing, which did not seem to me amiss, only it appeared somewhat lengthy, especially as Achatz was constantly nudging his sister in the side with his elbow. Mademoiselle Suzon Duchanel made the sign of the cross at its beginning and end, which led me to secretly wonder how a Catholic could have been received into this rigidly Protestant family. Yet none of the others seemed to find it objectionable.

The company then took their places at the table, the baroness at the head between her two children, the master of the house next to Achatz, then the French governess, by whose side my seat was assigned. There was a vacant chair opposite, next Fraeulein Leopoldine, then came the baron's brother, to whom he presented me as we were taking our seats: "Herr Candidate Johannes Weissbrod--my brother Joachim."

Just as the soup was being served, the folding-door again opened and the missing Luise entered, who of course proved to be the Canoness whom I had passed in the elm avenue outside. She had taken off her blue polonaise and little black kerchief, and in a plain gray dress, with snow-white frill, looked even more slender than before, somewhat as ancient statues represent the goddess of the chase. Her face was slightly flushed, whether from embarrassment or her hurried walk I could not determine. Yet she did not hang her head like a penitent, but went straight up to the old lady, bent down and kissed her cheek, then bore the baron's reproving glance without lowering her lashes, and silently took the vacant chair between the daughter of the house and "brother Joachim."

Achatz stared and giggled, but grew as still as a mouse when she cast a sharp, quiet look at him across the table. I now saw that she had sparkling dark-brown eyes, against which the golden lashes stood forth in strong relief. Yet, on the whole, she did not seem to me so beautiful as when out-of-doors under the shadow of the elm-trees.

There was a stern, defiant expression in her face, very unlike my ideal of feminine charm and lamb-like meekness. Moreover, she seemed to entirely overlook my precious self, which gave me no favorable impression of her character. Without uttering a word, she exchanged a hurried clasp of the hand with her next neighbor at table and then began to eat as indifferently as though she had been entirely alone.

I was somewhat annoyed because I had received no special introduction to her; but my thoughts were soon directed from this perplexing young creature by the baron, who commenced a theological conversation with me, in which he showed himself a zealous Lutheran of the most rigid type. I was extremely cautious at first, having heard that he was a remarkably learned man. But I soon perceived that his knowledge was utterly unsubstantial; he merely scattered broadcast certain names and titles of books, which had been new years before, and persistently repeated a few established formulas, on which he set far too much value. He seemed especially to have received the stamp of the Schleiermacher school, repeated a pun on the name of its founder two or three times, but did not appear to have read even a page of his "Dogmatik" or of the "Discourses on Religion."

The whole conversation was evidently solely intended to inspire me with a high opinion of his knowledge and spiritual enlightenment, though he himself did not really feel the slightest interest in the matter, for he turned a deaf ear to my modest objections, and as--though I regarded myself a valiant champion of the true faith--I knew how to keep my polished sword in its sheath on occasion, this first theological tourney passed off with mutual satisfaction. I only regretted that my position in the house forbade me to stretch my opponent on the sand and receive from fair hands the prize of victory.

* * * * *

During the whole dinner no one except the baron and myself had spoken. The mistress of the house gazed into vacancy with a look of quiet suffering, ate very little, and only showed herself eager to fill her husband's glass as soon as he had emptied it, which in the zeal of his debate occurred every moment. The others drank nothing but water, except Mademoiselle Suzon, whose glass, spite of her coquettish reluctance, the baron filled twice with Bordeaux. Two liveried servants moved to and fro as if shod with felt; but for so aristocratic a household the meal seemed to me rather meager and niggardly.

After dinner the baron, lighting a short hunting-pipe, took me into his study and discussed the plan of instruction I was to pursue with the heir. Biblical history, the catechism, the history of his native country, a little geography--the lessons in the two latter branches were to be shared with Leopoldine. She was far more talented than her brother, my patron remarked; but the lad possessed the germ of a genuine old-school Mark nobleman and an orthodox Christian, though it was overgrown by all manner of boyish naughtinesses. His affectionate papa hoped, from my experience in teaching and theological training, that my pupil would soon visibly grow in favor with God and man.

At the same time the baron allowed me to see that upon my success would depend my future position and promotion to the living. The present pastor, with increasing age, would become less and less capable of maintaining the strict discipline that was desirable, already displayed a lamentable tolerance in matters of faith, and, if he did not shortly apply for a discharge from his office, it would be necessary to obtain his removal.

When I left my patron's study, I should have liked to give my pupil a short examination at once and commence the training of the young plant intrusted to my charge. Achatz, however, was neither within sight nor hearing, but had disappeared, like the other members of the Round Table. So I went up to my tower-room, and set about unpacking my books. An old servant, who appeared to be the factotum of everybody in the castle who wanted help, made me--as there was no book-case--two rude sets of shelves out of boards, which, however, after they were filled with my ecclesiastical works, looked very respectable. My pupil's room adjoined mine. "Who occupies the second story under us?" I asked. "The young baroness and Fraeulein Luise," was the reply. I don't know why this annoyed me, but I should have preferred to avoid the vicinity of the Canoness.

While thus occupied, twilight had closed in, and I resolved to walk down to the village and call on the old pastor.

As I entered the long village street, I prepared to assume the most gracious manner. The worthy folk should have an idea of what they might expect from their future pastor. But my nods and smiles, greetings and questions, did not produce the slightest impression. The children ran shyly away, and the grown people only gave me curt, suspicious answers, though they knew very well that I was the expected candidate, and enjoyed the favor of their noble church-patron. So I was not in the best humor when I reached the little old parsonage, whose dilapidated condition was revealed, at this early season of the year, by the bare vine-trellises and empty garden. Even the church, beside which it stood, only separated by the graveyard, urgently needed repairs, and I secretly wondered that so pious a man as the baron did not set more value on the proper preservation of the house of God.

But the interior of the parsonage looked all the brighter and more home-like. True, the walls of the rooms were only whitewashed, but there was not even a fly-speck on them; the thin white curtains seemed to have been freshly ironed only the day before, the floors were strewn with sand, and the household utensils were dazzlingly clean. A brisk, plump old lady, the pastor's wife, greeted me with so cordial a pressure of the hand, that I felt almost ashamed of having crossed her threshold with the selfish thoughts of a smiling heir.

She led me into a small back room, that was just illumined by the setting sun. Here, in an atmosphere so oppressive from the heat of the stove that I could scarcely breathe, an old gentleman was sitting by the window in a large arm-chair covered with calico. A small black cloth cap rested on his venerable head, and his gouty, swollen knee was wrapped in a woolen blanket. His kind, blue eyes gazed so affectionately at me that I involuntarily bent over his outstretched hand and would have kissed it, had he not withdrawn it, silently shaking his head. I was requested to sit beside him, and, while we were exchanging the first common-place remarks, I had time to again reflect what a brilliant young light of the church I was compared to this feebly flickering, almost burned-out tallow stump. For on the little book-shelf beside the desk stood a scanty group of theological works, so that, recalling my own abundant store, I seemed to myself, in the presence of this aged champion of God, like a hero armed to the teeth and clad in a steel corslet, opposed to an old warrior, who could only swing a rude iron-spiked club.

But I was not allowed to display my admirable armor, for the old gentleman subjected me to no theological examination, but merely inquired about my former life, parents, and relatives. When he heard that I had lost my mother when a child, he passed his withered hand over my arm with a gesture of timid kindness, and his old wife, who had often mingled in our conversation with some little jest, gazed at me with such maternal compassion that a very strange feeling came over me. Until then I had never realized my orphaned condition, but felt perfectly secure in my kinship to God.

To reach a fresher theme, I began to talk of the baron and his family, praising especially the spirit of genuine piety that pervaded this aristocratic household. I perceived with surprise that neither the old pastor nor his more loquacious wife assented to my fervent eulogy. Only when I paused, the old man nodded gravely, and with his eyes fixed on vacancy, said: "Yes, yes, the baroness--she is a woman after God's own heart." "And don't forget Fraeulein Luise!" added the old lady eagerly, then hastily quitted the room, as if summoned by some urgent necessity, and did not appear again even when I took my leave.

I explained this strange silence to myself by the supposition that there were dogmatic differences between the pastor and his patron. The baron had shaken his head over the old gentleman's toleration. Desiring to avoid any dispute on this first visit, I soon rose to take leave.

The old clergyman apologized for being compelled to remain seated. He was confined to the chair by a violent attack of his complaint, and would have been obliged to leave the pulpit vacant on the following Sunday had not God sent him so able a representative in my person. He begged me to preach in his stead, and only regretted that he could not be among my devout listeners.

I was grateful in my heart to his gout for affording me an immediate opportunity to display my lauded oratorical talent, wished him a speedy convalescence, and took my leave with a much calmer heart than I had entered.

* * * * *

When I returned to the castle, a servant received me in the hall and informed me that tea was ready.

I found the whole family, except brother Joachim, assembled in the dining-room around the tea-table, on which two large old-fashioned lamps diffused a somewhat dim light. As at dinner, there was no lack of silver tableware, so that everything looked very stately and splendid, though the fare was scarcely superior to that of a respectable farm-house.

The Canoness was making tea, and poured it from a heavy silver pot into the cups handed around by a servant. Again she did not vouchsafe me a glance. The others, too, merely bowed silently, as the master of the house, seated close beside one of the lamps, was absorbed in the newspapers, which were brought every evening by an errand-woman. The regular mail came but twice a week.

I, too, now ate, without speaking, a due amount of bread and butter, my sense of decorum and theological wisdom having prevented my fully satisfying my appetite at dinner. Achatz giggled and whispered with his sister, who now sat beside him; Mademoiselle Suzon had the headache and looked very much bored, but from time to time gave me a glance and murmured a question, her cold eyes meanwhile wandering to and fro with a strangely uneasy expression.

When the baron threw aside the papers, the whole party rose from the table; Fraeulein Luise led the baroness to an arm-chair beside the huge chimney-piece, which, however, spite of the chill evening air, served merely for ornament; and, after a little table had been pushed before her seat, and the children had said good-night, the Canoness brought out a pack of French cards and sat down opposite to play with her.

The baron had taken his place at a small chess-table with the French governess, who had suddenly recovered her animation, and, turning to me while arranging the ivory men, he said, "You can choose, Herr Weissbrod, which game you will overlook. It is really against my principles to allow card-playing in my house, but my wife's game is by no means an invention of Satan, unless tediousness is considered one of the torments of hell. I never touch a card myself, and suppose you have the same ideas. So, if you have no interest in chess, do not feel under any restraint, but go to your room, if you prefer. You have had a fatiguing journey to-day."

I thought this implied that my presence was no longer desired, and, after having watched both games for awhile--for civility's sake--without understanding anything about either, I bid the party good-night and climbed up to my tower-room.

The footman who lighted me seemed strongly inclined to have a little chat, and I was very anxious to put certain queries about the relations existing between the different members of the household. But I thought it was indecorous to question servants about their employers, cut short the tall rascal's opening remark, which tended in that direction, and remained alone with my wandering thoughts.

My pupil was already sound asleep. As I looked at him and noted the resemblance to his mother, which seemed even stronger than when he was awake, I resolved to struggle against my aversion to the saucy young lad and honestly strive to develop the half-stifled germ of which his father had spoken. It seemed as though the impulse was felt through the little dreaming brain, for the boy opened his eyes, stared at me, blushed, and then said in an entirely different voice, "Good-night, Herr Johannes."

I returned this good-night, passed my hand over his eyes, and went softly back to my room.

But I could not yet go to sleep. All the new experiences the day had brought were surging and seething in my head as if it were a witch's caldron. Opening the window, I gazed out into the calm, cool night, where the moon was shining so beautifully over the tree-tops, and gauzy veils of mist were hovering in the distance above the hills and meadows.

Conspicuous among all the figures which glided past me, as if in a spectral chase, staring at me with questioning eyes, was one which at last, when the other ghosts had vanished, remained standing before me--a slender girl with tawny hair and brown eyes, whose gaze rested on me so indifferently that my vain soul grew more and more insulted and angry, yet without being able to turn my thoughts from her. I said to myself that if this one woman did not dwell under the same roof I should be as contented here as though I were in Abraham's bosom. Then I wondered whether she had gone to rest, and imagined that she was even now thinking of me with a scornful curl of her lips, which idea strengthened my hostility still more. To calm myself, I lighted a long pipe and paced up and down the carpetless floor of my room, thinking of the sermon I was to preach on the following Sunday, and in which I meant to say all sorts of offensive things to the arrogant creature's face. Yet I possessed sufficient good-breeding to remove my squeaking boots and put on the soft slippers my good aunt had given me as a parting present.

I was just going to shut the window, for I was beginning to shiver, when a low melody rose below me, to which I listened intently. My little talent for music, as I first learned long after, was at that time the best and most genuine quality I possessed. So, at the first notes, I knew that the pure alto voice beneath me was no ordinary one, but issued from a thoroughly musical nature. But the piano on which the singer accompanied herself appeared to be a worn-out, tuneless old box, and she made the least possible use of it. I did not know what she was singing, but it seemed to me a magnificent piece by some great master, and I went close to the window that I might not lose a note. I afterward discovered that it was an aria from Gluck's "Orpheus."

This solitary nocturnal singing, which could proceed from no other lips than those of the Canoness, instantly disarmed me. It sounded very subdued; Fraeulein Leopoldine slept in the next room, and must not be disturbed. But this _mezza voce_, in its melancholy gentleness, contradicted everything I had imagined of the singer's nature. It was like the lament of a proud, free soul, that disdains to impart its grief to any one, and only in a secret soliloquy makes the moon and the night its confidants.

When the singing ceased, it was long ere I could resolve to seek my bed. I still waited to learn whether it would begin again. Midnight had passed when I at last shut my window, and, absorbed in thought, prepared to seek repose.

* * * * *

Yet I was up very early, and had much difficulty in persuading my pupil, who had hitherto slept below next his mamma's room, to leave his bed, as among other bad habits he had been accustomed to stretching and turning lazily on his couch in the morning.

I found it difficult to keep the resolution I had made the night before over the sleeper, now that he sat wide awake before me with his impudent little face, especially as I soon perceived with horror that the young nobleman was deficient in nearly all the rudiments of knowledge, and, moreover, did not appear to feel at all ashamed of his ignorance. I found myself obliged to begin from the very commencement in all the branches except writing, for which he was indebted to the village school-master, and the catechism, which he could repeat faultlessly with the volubility of a starling.

Yet, even in the first hour, I succeeded in uprooting some weeds of error in his head and heart, and at least in conquering his absent-mindedness, so that we were tolerably well-satisfied with each other when, toward ten o'clock, the baron entered in his own sublime person. He merely asked carelessly what I thought of my pupil then, with an exclamation of surprise, went up to my books and glanced over their titles. "Ah, Neander! Marheineke!" he said, as if greeting old acquaintances. "You are certainly a thorough scholar, Herr Weissbrod. Only don't soar too high! Let us have no unfruitful knowledge. 'Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth.' There is this Neander, for instance--h'm! Yet he's not one of the worst." (Good Heavens! Candid Neander! That soul of child-like purity!) "And yet--h'm! Well, with God's assistance and favor, his day of Damascus will come."

He talked a great deal more of such conceited, equivocal trash; and though even then some irreverent doubts arose in my mind as to whether his own theological wisdom was correct, I was impressed by his oracular speeches, and endeavored to make one answer and another which should lead to a more professional conversation. But he cut me short by remarking that there would be time enough for us to come to a clearer understanding. I might now accompany him down-stairs to his daughter, and then give the two children their first lesson in history.

We found the young lady's room already in order, and she herself, in a by no means studious mood, sitting at a table which stood in the middle of the apartment. The Canoness sat by the window with some sewing in her hand. At our entrance she rose hastily and returned her uncle's cold good-morning with a slight bend of the head. I did not appear to have any existence for her.

Again I felt my blood boil with indignation. But I only strove the more to do my work well, in order to show her what a remarkable fellow I was; nor did I succeed badly, in my own estimation. I began to relate the history of the Mark from its earliest origin, and as I was myself a native of the country, and, moreover, very familiar with this subject, I had the satisfaction of interesting not only my two pupils, but their papa, to such a degree, that the baron remained a full half-hour, and was first reminded that he had long since outgrown his school-days by the announcement that the steward was awaiting his orders.

I was especially pleased to see how Achatz fairly hung on my lips during the narrative of the battles and victories of his ancestors in this once pagan land. The ice was broken, at any rate, and even Fraeulein Leopoldine, who at first had sat with an insufferably condescending expression, was evidently excited. Only the grave face at the window bent like a stone image over the industrious hands, without any token of interest. I began to doubt whether the beautiful nocturnal melody could have issued from those obstinately compressed lips.

At dinner, when I again saw the mistress of the house, I could plainly perceive that my first appearance as a pedagogue had produced a favorable impression. The little lady, with a kindly glance from her timid blue eyes, held out her hand to me, and asked whether I had slept well and if I needed anything for my comfort. Achatz displayed in motley confusion all sorts of crumbs of his new knowledge, and Mademoiselle Suzon granted me more than one long look from her Catholic eyes. When I said that the old pastor had requested me to take his place the following Sunday--which was the next day--the baron said he was very curious about the conception held by the young school of the preacher's office, but warned me not to drag my Neander and Marheineke into the pulpit with me, which of course I smilingly promised.

Uncle Joachim, according to his custom, did not utter a word. The Canoness looked at her plate, and I noticed that she sometimes made a low remark to her neighbor, who always responded by a quiet smile or a twinkle in his honest gray eyes.

When, that afternoon, I was again alone in my tower, I prepared to study my sermon with great composure of mind, for I felt perfectly sure of myself. I had brought from the university and our religious society a bundle of outline sermons, one of which I took out and read over again with constant reference to my new hearers. Of course this masterpiece seemed a thousand times too good for the rural congregation, but I had intended it principally for my patron and his family, not least for the obstinate face that, willing or not, must listen to me for a full half hour. I changed a few details, repeated the whole in a low tone, while veiling myself in clouds of tobacco-smoke, and, when I had finished, patted my stomach caressingly, as though I had just swallowed a dainty morsel, and resolved to take a short stroll in the park as an aid to digestion.

Hitherto I had only seen the grounds through the glass door of the dining-room, and I now marveled at their extent and beauty.

* * * * *

Low farm-buildings, stables, and barns extended on both sides in the rear of the castle, and were separated from the flower-garden in the center of the park by dense rows of splendid fir-trees. The dry basin of a fountain, ornamented by a crumbling sandstone statue, served as an abode for an aged peacock, which could now spread only a very ragged and shabby tail, as he constantly circled around it, keeping a distrustful watch. No one except the Canoness, as I afterward noticed, was permitted to approach without his uttering a shrill, spiteful scream.

The beds, at this early season of the year, were still empty except for a narrow border of crocuses and snowdrops, but they were neatly raked and carefully marked out; even the paths between were free from dead leaves. From this place ran a broad walk fenced on both sides by tall, closely clipped hedges in the French style. But the tops of the ancient elms and oaks soared above them into the air, and the solemn splendor of a German forest far surpassed the Italian prettiness. Never in my life had I seen anything so beautiful, for the Berlin Thiergarten, so far as the size of the trees was concerned, could not bear the least comparison to it.

When, studying my sermon, I had strolled some distance under the lofty crowns of foliage, a strange figure came toward me, whom I at once supposed to be the gardener--a short, gray-haired man in a peasant's jerkin, over which a green apron was tied, a green cap, horn spectacles on his sharp, hawk's nose, an axe in his bony hand, and with one foot slightly dragging. I went up to him, greeted him in my affable manner, and asked if it was due to his care that the beautiful park was in such admirable order.

At first he nodded silently, scanning me from head to foot with the air of an expert examining some new plant to see whether it would be likely to thrive in this soil. Then he said, by no means sullenly, that he was the gardener Liborius and I was probably the new tutor. As this was a leisure evening, he would do me the honor to show me the park.

While walking by his side, I had a strange conversation. In the first place, he modestly refused my praise of his skill in gardening. He would not be able to accomplish half without Uncle Joachim, who planned everything that was to be done. True, he himself knew more about cultivating flowers, because he had been educated for an apothecary, and, had he not been compelled to enter the army, would probably be one now. But while serving as the baron's orderly--the elder brother--he had been shot in the foot; so, after he had obtained his discharge, his master had made him gardener on the estate. At that time the park was a perfect wilderness, everything higgledy-piggledy, and at first he had only bungled, until at last the younger baron came. "Yes," he added, glancing at me as if somewhat doubtful whether he might venture to speak openly, "many things would go wrong if it were not for Uncle Joachim. There's no telling all he has on his shoulders--half the management of the estate, the garden and stables, and the few cattle, for the larger portion of the land is leased. And yet he gets small thanks for it. They say that as a young officer he was what people call a sly chap, ran in debt, gambled, had love affairs; we know how things are with young noblemen who serve as officers. Then his brother once helped him out of a scrape and made him take an oath to lead a regular life, and he has done so too. But they always treat him like the prodigal son in the gospel, only there is no fatted calf killed for him. And why? Because he doesn't go to church. You pull a long face over it, Herr Candidate, but you can believe this: he's more religious at heart than many a man who can repeat the whole hymn-book; if he were not, there's much that would look very different here. For our master, he's not exactly a bad one, but very strict, like our Lord in the Old Testament, and looks after the pennies and wages, so, though the heavens should fall, he never abates any of the work the peasants are obliged to do for him. Unfortunately, he is obliged to look after his due, for the estate was heavily laden with debt when he took possession of it, and had he not made the wealthy marriage he did--for the money comes from _her_--he could not have lived here, especially as he, too, in by-gone days, led a jolly life and spent a great deal. Well, he's tolerably well over that now, but he nips and saves at all the ends and corners, always saying it is for his children. Would you believe it, he wanted to send me off six years ago, after the grounds here were at last in proper order and the park could be seen again. His brother could attend to it with one of the servants. Then I said: 'Don't send me away, Herr Baron; I'm no longer a young man, and have forgotten my training as an apothecary, and my heart clings to the old trees as we cleave to an old love. If it's only the wages, I'll gladly give them up, if I can keep my room and have the little food I eat.' So he let me stay, and I drudge away in Heaven's name and for the sake of Uncle Joachim, who could not manage it all alone. And now Fraeulein Luise helps us, too."

"The Canoness?" I interrupted.

"Yes, indeed. She has charge of the vegetable-garden, because she knows best what is wanted in the kitchen. Ah, yes, she is for a woman what Uncle Joachim is for a man, and gets just as few thanks for it. You know, of course, Herr Candidate, that she is an orphan, the daughter of a third brother of our baron, who also squandered his property and died young. She has lived here at her uncle's since her eighteenth year--she will be twenty-four next Whitsuntide--and as her aunt has been an invalid so long, and her uncle is often absent for months, because he finds the castle tiresome, Fraeulein Luise is obliged to stand in the breach everywhere. Well, she can do it, for she has the brains, and her heart is in the right place; our Lord will reward her some day for what she does for her old aunt."