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CHAPTER XI.
AN EXTRAORDINARY SCHOOL-COMMITTEE

Frau Ceres was jealous because the Professorin devoted less time to her, and surprised them by suddenly expressing the desire to be present at the lessons, saying that she had more need of instruction than the rest. And Sonnenkamp also betook himself to Roland's room. He could never be idle, and so, when he did not smoke, he had the habit of whittling all sorts of figures out of a small piece of wood; and he was especially fond of cutting into grotesque shapes fragments of grape-vine roots. This was the only way he could sit and listen.

Eric saw that his instruction was interfered with by this heterogeneous assemblage. The Mother understood his disquiet, without a word being said, and staid away from the lessons. Frau Ceres and Herr Sonnenkamp soon did the same.

While Eric was enabled to banish, by a strict fulfilment of his duties, every trace of the disturbing element introduced by Bella, the Mother was full of restlessness. She had attained what had been the object of her strongest wishes, access to a large garden of plants and unlimited sway therein, and yet she was not quite content.

One morning, as she was walking early in the park with her son, she said: —

"I have discovered something new in myself: I have no talent for being a guest."

Eric interposed no questions, for he knew that she would reach the goal, even if she took a roundabout way. The Mother continued: —

"I have the feeling that I must bring something to pass; I cannot be forever a passive recipient; and here is the special danger of riches. The rich look upon themselves as guests in this world; they themselves have nothing to do, and others must do everything for them. I tell thee; my dear son, that I cannot stand it, I must do something. You men, you can work, create, influence, and renew your life by what you do, while we women can only recreate and restore our life by loving."

Eric suggested that she accomplished her part by simply being, but the Mother very energetically responded: —

"I am always vexed with Schiller for this: he should not have said, it isn't like him to write, 'Ordinary natures pay with what they do; noble ones with what they are.' That sounds like a carte blanche for all do-nothings, with or without coronets upon their seals."

Eric held up to her the satisfaction arising from her influence upon Frau Ceres; but the Mother shook her head without any remark.

She had placed great hopes in that, but such an enigmatical and incomprehensible person was presented to her view, that she seemed to herself wholly useless. She would not acknowledge to her son that the house had something oppressive to her; that the family had all its glory and pride in external possessions, so that everything here appeared external, directed by alien hands, and altogether destitute of any strength developed from within.

Fräulein Perini spoke always of Frau Ceres as "the dear sufferer." From what was Frau Ceres suffering?

The Professorin had once lightly touched upon the thought how greatly Frau Ceres must miss her daughter; when, with eyes sparkling like those of a snake as it suddenly darts up its head, she sent Fräulein Perini, who was at hand, into the garden; she then said to the Professorin, looking timidly round: —

"He is not to blame; I, only I. I wished to punish him when I said that to my child; but I did not mean she should go away."

The Professorin begged that she would confide the whole to her, but Frau Ceres laughed like a person wholly beside herself.

"No, no, I shall not say it again, and certainly not to you."

The distress which the Professorin had experienced at the first interview with Frau Ceres was felt anew. She believed now that she knew the suffering of the dark-eyed woman, who, sometimes listless, and sometimes restless as a lizard, was troubled by a thought which she could not reveal, and could not wholly keep back.

Like a child to whom a story is told, she was urged by Frau Ceres to tell her over and over again about the court fêtes, which alone seemed to awaken any interest. Frau Ceres was delighted to hear the same things repeated.

But the mother took care to show that a princess has a special employment for every hour, and that a regular performance of duty was of great importance. She spoke earnestly, and came back often to the consideration, that a woman like Frau Ceres, born in a Republic, could have not the remotest conception of all this, and that it was like being suddenly removed into another century.

"I understand everything that you and your son say," Frau Ceres stated, "but what other people say, except the Major, I hear it indeed, but I don't know where I am. Just think, I was afraid of you at first."

"Of me? No one was ever afraid of me before."

"I will tell you about it some other time. Ah, I am sick, I am always sick."

The Mother did not succeed in arousing Frau Ceres out of her life of mere alternate sleeping and waking.

Sonnenkamp met the Mother with demonstrations of deepest respect, and seemed to practise upon her his airs and attitudes of genteel behavior. He delicately hinted that he had faithfully kept the agreement, and had never asked her what his wife said and desired; and now he would only beg to be permitted to make one inquiry, whether Frau Ceres had never spoken of Manna.

"Certainly, but very briefly."

"And may I not be allowed to know what this brief communication was?"

"I don't know myself; it is still a riddle. But, I beseech you, do not lead me to disloyalty and breach of trust."

"Breach of trust." cried Sonnenkamp with trembling lips.

"Ah, it was not the right word. Your wife has confided nothing to me, but I believe, – I pray you not to mistake me, – I suspect, she is secretly afraid of Fräulein Perini, or is vexed or angry with her. As I said before, I am very far from meaning to blame Fräulein Perini, and I almost repent of having said as much as I have."

"You can be at rest on that point. My wife would like to send Fräulein Perini out of the house ten times every day, and ten times every day to call her back again. There is no person, not even yourself, who is more needful to her and more useful than Fräulein Perini." The Professorin longed to be out of the house, and she could find no adequate reason for the deep hold which the desire had taken upon her. She had no desire to be made the depositary of secrets, nor to solve riddles, and yet she was incessantly occupied with the thought of the daughter of the house. A child, a grownup girl, whom such a family abandoned, perhaps this maiden was a charge for her; but how it was to be, she could not perceive, and yet the thought would not leave her.

She wanted to question the Major, Clodwig, and Bella; and she would even have liked to have recourse to Pranken, but Pranken had not been visible for several weeks. She got Joseph to show her Manna's room one day; and while there, it seemed to her as if the dear child were calling her, and as if it were her duty to lend her a helping hand.

She wrote a letter to the Superior, informing her that she would pay her a visit at the first opportunity.

CHAPTER XII.
FRAU PETRA

When Sonnenkamp was alone in the garden, in the hot-houses, in the work-room, or his seed-room, he wore perpetually a complacent, triumphant smile, often congratulating himself upon his success in making persons and circumstances play into his hands, ruling, bending, and directing them, just as he did the fruit in the garden.

The refractoriness and the indolence of Frau Ceres were very serviceable, at first, in lending to the whole establishment an air of respectability. It gave the appearance of self-containedness, as if there was no need of other people; as if there was everything in their own circle, and what should be superadded to this would be received graciously, but was not an absolute necessity. But this appearance of seclusion soon became a sort of mysterious riddle, and excited curiosity and scandal.

Sonnenkamp had foreseen this, but had not anticipated that this state of feeling would last so long. The shyness and reserve of the dwellers in the vicinity in forming any intimate relations with him, and their failure to visit him on familiar terms, gradually disturbed him. This distance must not be allowed to have too much weight, it had better not be noticed; and complaisance must be shown towards these who hold themselves thus distantly, and it must not be seen that their bearing is remarked at all.

The relation to Otto von Pranken had begun with the stable, but proceeding farther, by the connection of the families promised now a firm basis in the future. Until now, Sonnenkamp's house, park, and garden, considered as a whole, seemed like some isolated, alien, and extraneous plant within a flower-pot. Through Eric and his family the roots had begun to spread, and the plant to grow independently in the open ground.

The intimate relation with Clodwig and Bella, which Pranken had not been able to bring about, had been effected through Eric; and now the Professor's widow was to carry that still farther, by giving and receiving visits which would naturally unite the families.

Sonnenkamp very cautiously expressed to the Mother his regret, that his wife did not incline to keep up a neighborly acquaintance with the respectable families around. The Mother had a desire to get a look into the life of this part of the country, and to express thanks to those who had manifested so much friendliness towards her son. She wanted first to visit the house of the Doctor. Sonnenkamp suggested that she should then call upon the Justice's family. He placed his whole house at her disposal if she wished to make invitations.

One beautiful Sunday in the latter part of summer was fixed upon for visiting the neighborhood.

Frau Ceres had promised to go with them, but when the morning came for them to start, she declared that it was impossible. The Professorin now observed, for the first time, a spice of artfulness in her; she had consented, evidently, to avoid being urged; and now she planted herself upon her own will, without making any plea of ill health.

Fräulein Perini remained at home with her.

They drove first to Herr von Endlich's, although they might have known that the family were absent; they wanted only to leave their cards.

From Herr von Endlich's Sonnenkamp returned to the villa, and left Roland, Eric, and the Mother, to proceed to the town. He called out to them at parting, that they must take care not to drink all the wine that should be offered them.

And when the Mother was now driving with Eric and Roland, the thought occurred to her that she was not making these visits on her own account; but she was just as happy in making them as the representative of her friendly host.

Roland wished them to stop as they were going along, for they met Claus, the field-guard. Roland introduced him to Eric's mother; she extended her hand, and said she would soon give him a call.

Claus, looking very much gratified, and pointing to Roland, replied: —

"Yes, yes, if I had to turn out a grandmother for him, it would be nobody else but you."

They laughed, and drove on. When they reached the town, the bells of the newly-erected Protestant church were just ringing. It stood upon a hill, from which there was a wide view of the country around.

The Mother stopped, and went with Eric and Roland into the church.

Roland had never been in a Protestant church while service was going on. The Mother requested him not to go in now, when she heard him say this, but to proceed directly with Eric to the town; he was bent, however, upon remaining with her.

They entered the simple, plain building just as the congregation was finishing the hymn. The Mother was pained to hear a discourse on eternal punishment, delivered in a high-pitched voice, and regretted in her own mind that she had yielded to Roland.

After they had taken a survey of the cheering landscape on coming out, the Mother took Roland's hand, saying: —

"When you are prepared for it, I shall make you acquainted with one of your countrymen, from whom you can get higher views."

"Is it Benjamin Franklin? I know him."

"No; the man I speak of is a preacher who died only a few years ago; a man of the deepest religious nature. I am glad to have known him personally; he has been a guest at our house, and I have taken him by the hand. He and your father, Eric, became intimate friends at once."

"Do you mean Theodore Parker?" inquired Eric.

"I mean him, and I feel elevated to have had such a man live with us."

"Why have you never spoken of this man?" said Roland, turning to Eric.

"Because I did not wish to interfere with the faith in which you were brought up."

Eric said this without meaning to reprove his mother, and yet she was alarmed when she heard his reply; she repeated, that Roland would learn about the man after his judgment had become more mature.

The mischief, however, had been done, of pointing out to the youth something which was now withheld from him; and as he had never been accustomed to being denied, anything, he would now, as usual, be eager after what was forbidden, and if it was not given him, he would take secret measures to get it himself.

Eric and Roland received the salutation of many coming out of church. Eric introduced his mother to the School-director, the Forester, his wife and sister-in-law, who all accompanied the friends into the town. The walk along the public highway was pleasant; there is nothing, on the whole, like this pleasant mood with which a large number of persons of various condition and character return from church.

"Wasn't the Doctor's wife at church?" asked the Mother.

They told her that she never went on Sunday morning, but staid at home to comfort the country people who came early on Sunday; she often gave them simple household remedies, and arranged the order in which they should be admitted to the Doctor on his return.

Eric now heard, for the first time, that they called the Doctor's wife Frau Petra. She had something of St. Peter's office, the keeping of the door into the heavenly kingdom of healing.

They entered the Doctor's house. The cleanliness of the entry floor and steps was notable as usual, and on the walls good pictures were hanging, no one of which seemed to owe its position to chance. Green climbing-plants were standing upon pier-tables, and sending out their tendrils in all directions. In the sitting-room the work-table was placed under the window, before which was a street-mirror; and on the table itself stood a camelia in full bloom. They heard the Doctor's wife saying in the next room, —

"Yes, good Nanny, you are talking the whole time about religion and conformity to the will of God, and now you are clear down in the depths of despair, and out of patience, and unwilling to take kindly advice. My husband can give medicine, but you must give yourself love and patience. And you, Anna, you give your child too much to eat and then you have to keep coming for help. One can't get understanding at the apothecary's. And you, Peter, you go home and apply a bandage wet with warm vinegar."

Nothing further was heard. Apparently the servant had come in and announced the arrival of the visitors.

The door opened, and the Doctor's wife entered. She gave a hearty greeting to the Mother, and ordered the servant to bring a bottle of wine and three glasses. In spite of the Mother's refusal, the gentlemen must drink.

When the Professorin lauded the beneficent influence of the Doctor's wife, the latter at once accepted the praise saying, —

"One can learn something in more than forty years' experience, such as I have had. At first I shuddered, but I was always angry with myself for it; now I have learned from my husband what stands me in the best stead."

"What is that?"

"Rude bluntness, the only effectual thing. Each one is thinking about himself, but why talk about myself?"

She expressed her satisfaction at becoming acquainted with the Mother. The two ladies smiled when Roland said: —

"We went to the church, and from there we came to you, and we think we are much better off here."

The wine came, and Eric and Roland drank the health of the Doctor's substitute. Then they went to the study of the Physician, and Eric explained the anatomical charts to Roland.

The Mother urged the Doctor's wife, with whom she was visiting, to return her visit soon, and expressed the hope of great good to result to Frau Ceres from her resolute nature.

"I should be afraid of being too blunt," answered the Doctor's wife, whose nature was in reality exceedingly gentle and considerate.

"I trust you will pardon my boldness; is it true that Manna is to be taken from the convent, and have her education completed by you?"

The Mother was amazed. What was to her only a vague thought, was the gossip of the neighborhood. She could not imagine what had given rise to it, and the Doctor's wife could not tell where she had heard it.

When the Mother now made particular inquiries about Manna, the Doctor's wife said that Roland was the only one of Sonnenkamp's family whom she knew. She knew nothing at all about Manna; but Lina, the Justice's daughter, had been her friend, and from her something definite might be learned.

The Physician joined them, but did not stay long. He waited only to get, as soon as he could, the report from his wife.

The Mother took leave, and Frau Petra did not urge her to remain, saying that she had still to speak with several of the patients before they went.

In lively spirits they left the house.

They had to wait longer at the Justice's, for wife and daughter must first make their toilet. When they finally appeared, they had many apologies to make for the disorderly appearance of the room, and for their own hurried toilet; yet dress and room were as neat and pretty as one could wish.

The messenger was sent after the Justice, who was taking his Sunday's glass; and when at last the Professorin had taken a seat in the corner of the sofa, where one could hardly find room among the embroidered cushions, a pleasant conversation ensued. The Justice's wife had adroitly made mention of her father, whom the Mother knew, and they gradually established an agreeable intercourse, after the first awkward preliminaries were all over. The Professorin knew how to draw Lina out, and was greatly pleased with her bright description of the convent-life. Lina was encouraged by this, so that she became more and more animated and communicative, to her mother's great astonishment.

The Justice made his appearance. He had evidently swallowed down his glass hastily, for nothing ought to be left unfinished. He shook the hand of the Professorin longer and harder than was at all necessary, and assured her humorously – humor seemed very odd on the little man's grave face – of his magisterial protection. He then gave an account to Eric and Roland of the Pole's having broken out of the House of Correction, and of their having put up an advertisement for his apprehension, but they would be glad never to see him again.

The Justice's wife and Lina put on their hats, and went with their guests by a circuitous path along the Rhine to the house of the School-director, not without some consciousness, perhaps, of the good appearance they were making. Eric walked with the Justice's wife, the Justice joined Roland, and Lina went with the Professorin.

Lina began of her own accord to talk of Manna, of her present melancholy, and of her former liveliness; she had cherished the most enthusiastic love towards her father, so that it seemed as if she could not leave him for a single day; and Lina begged the Mother to use her influence to have Manna return once more.

The Mother carefully refrained from making any inquiries, but it struck her strangely that from these visits, made only out of politeness, a new duty seemed to be unfolding before her.

If she had been able to imagine that she was only used by Sonnenkamp to play into his own hands, she would have been still more astonished at the various phases which one simple occurrence may assume.

They did not find the family of the School-director or of the Forester at home; as they were returning in the carriage and driving by the Doctor's house, his wife was standing in the doorway; she called to them to stop.

She came out to them, and said that she had forgotten to remind the Mother to call upon the Major and Fräulein Milch to-day; the Major was very good-natured, but he was very sensitive in regard to the respect shown him, and he never forgave any one for neglecting to pay the proper attention to Fräulein Milch. Fräulein Milch was a very excellent, respectable person, if they could overlook one thing.

They returned to the villa in good spirits.

The first person they met in the courtyard was the Major. He looked somewhat out of humor, but his countenance lighted up when the Professorin said that she had intended to call upon him and Fräulein Milch to-day, and to get a cup of coffee, as she unfortunately could not fall into the ways of this part of the country, and drink wine every day.

The Major nodded; but he soon went off to send a child of the porter's to Fräulein Milch with the welcome message.

The Mother was very animated, and Eric expressed his joy that his mother experienced something of that exhilaration produced by a sight of the life of the people and the life of nature along the Rhine.

When Roland came to dinner, he said in a low tone to the Professorin: —

"I have looked into the Conversations-Lexicon, and to-day is Theodore Parker's birthday; to-day is the twenty-fourth of August."

The Mother whispered that it would be well for him to speak of it to no one but her.