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"What has happened?"

"Sevenpiper has drawn the grand prize, and Claus says that the money belongs to him. Come, he's like one raving mad."

Eric went down to the courtyard.

There sat Claus upon a dog-kennel, and looked dolefully up at Eric and Roland. He spoke so thick and confusedly, that they could not make out distinctly what he meant; this only was plain, that Sevenpiper had drawn the prize, and Claus asserted that it belonged to him.

Sonnenkamp, Pranken, and Manna also made their appearance on the steps, and now Claus screamed out that Manna must bear testimony to having given him the money for the ticket, and he had simply forgotten to redeem it.

Eric quieted Claus, and promised to go with him to Sevenpiper. He asked permission of Sonnenkamp to have the horses harnessed. Roland was urgent to accompany him. Claus took a seat with the coachman on the box, and so they drove to the village to Sevenpiper's house.

They met the cooper in front of the house, and he told Eric that Sevenpiper had just turned him out of it. He said that he was in love with Sevenpiper's oldest daughter, and that this attachment had met the approval of the parents on both sides; but now Sevenpiper had shown him the door, saying that he could obtain a better match for his daughter, and that most assuredly he would not marry her to the son of Claus, who wanted to claim his property before the world.

"Is't true, father, that the prize belonged to you?"

"Yes, indeed; and it belongs to me still."

"So! Now I understand all about it," said the cooper, taking his departure.

In the house of Sevenpiper the newcomers found everything in confusion; the oldest daughter was weeping, and the other children were running over one another.

They became quieted at last, and Sevenpiper said that he was not going to allow himself to be driven out of his wits; anyhow he would no longer be a day-laborer in the vineyard; he would just do nothing for a year, and then he would see what he would take hold of. The children screamed and shouted in all sorts of ways, and Sevenpiper tried to make them sing, but not one of them was willing; all that was past and gone forever.

Eric had induced Claus to wait outside the house; he now told them what the field-guard wanted.

As soon as he made known this desire, Sevenpiper raised the window and cried out to his former comrade standing in the road: —

"If you don't clear out from here, and if you claim a single red cent from me, I'll break every bone in your carcass. Now you know what to expect! Off with you!"

No appeal was of any use; Sevenpiper insisted upon it, that he would not give Claus as much as he could put into his eye.

Roland and Eric went away exceedingly cast down. They came to the house of Claus, who was asleep on the bench. His wife lamented that he had come home very drunk, and that the cooper was half-crazed.

Neither could Eric and Roland be of any assistance here.

On the way home, Roland seized Eric's hand and said: —

"Money! money! How speedily it can ruin people!" Eric made no reply, and Roland continued: – "I never heard that there were any lotteries in America. You see, Eric, this is something that we have wholly to ourselves."

In silence, inwardly disturbed, they reached the villa. There seemed to be some ghost stalking abroad, for they could not shake off the remembrance that the demon of sudden riches had ruined two families; and immediately on waking the next morning, Roland said: —

"I should like to know how Claus and Sevenpiper will feel this morning, when they wake up."

A messenger was sent to the village, and they were gratified to hear that the two families were getting along comfortably again; but the eldest daughter of Sevenpiper had left her parents' house, and had gone to the field-guard's.

CHAPTER VII.
THE FIRST RIDE

Manna was extremely gracious towards everybody, and no one would have suspected that this graciousness had pride for its basis. Every one appeared to her so poor, so forlorn, so trammelled! Whenever she was spoken to, her thought of the speaker was, "You, who say this, are but a child of the world;" and whenever she took part in any pleasure excursion, there was the perpetually recurring suggestion, "You yourself are not here, you only seem to be here, you are in a wholly different world, yonder, far above."

Every one was charmed with her friendliness, her gentleness, her attentive listening, and yet only a part of herself was really taken up with all this; she was elsewhere, and occupied with other interests.

No one ventured to exert any influence over her; but the Doctor agreed with Pranken and her father, that she must again ride on horseback.

A new world seemed to be disclosed; inside the house, there was singing, dancing, playing, and outside, too, all went merry as a marriage-bell. Manna took pleasant rides on horseback with Pranken, Eric, and Roland in the country round. Sonnenkamp also, mounted on his great black horse, frequently joined the party. Their ride was full of enjoyment, and they received on all sides marks of respect, not only from those who had been the recipients of benefits through the Professorin and Fräulein Milch, but also from those who were well off and independent in their circumstances. Wherever they alighted, and wherever they reined up, there was always some fresh proof of the pride which the whole region felt in such a man as Sonnenkamp.

One day Manna, Pranken, and Roland, Eric and Sonnenkamp, were riding along the road bordered with nut-trees.

"Herr Dournay is right," exclaimed Manna, who was riding in advance with Pranken and her father.

Manna said that Eric had made the remark, that nut-trees were much more beautiful, and that it was a stupid and prosaic innovation to set out lindens and other common trees along the roads; that the nut-tree belonged to the Rhine, was beautiful and productive, and at least gave to the irrepressible boys a fine harvest time.

As she rode along she tore off a leaf of a nut-tree.

For some time her voice had been different; it was no longer as if veiled with tears. Turning to her father, she continued: —

"You can bring this about. Set out a nursery of nut-trees, and give to all the villages round as many nurslings as they can make use of."

Sonnenkamp promised to carry out the idea, and unfolded a plan which he had much at heart, of establishing general benevolent institutions, the first of which should be a fund for the widows and orphans of boatmen.

Manna stroked her beautiful white pony, to which she had given the name Snowdrop.

Pranken was happy that the horse proved itself worthy of its mistress, and voluntarily extending her hand, she thanked him for his care.

"Now trot. Snow-drop!" she cried, chirruping; and with Pranken on one side, and her father on the other, she rode boldly, rising in the saddle.

They now came in sight, of an advancing procession. Manna reined in so suddenly that she would have been thrown over her horse's head, had not Sonnenkamp held her by her riding-habit. They dismounted, and Roland and Eric were also obliged to dismount. The grooms led the horses, and Manna walked with the procession. Holding up her long riding-dress, not proudly, but humbly, she sang aloud with the pilgrims, and Pranken also. Eric was silent.

At a chapel by the way-side Manna knelt down, and Pranken also knelt by her side. When she arose, she was amazed to see that the rest had gone, leaving Pranken and her together. They were waiting in a pathway through the field, not far off, with the grooms who were holding the horses. The procession moved on, and Pranken and Manna were left alone. The murmur of the pilgrims was heard in the distance. Pranken held his hands folded together, and looked at Manna as if praying.

"Manna," he began, he had never called her Manna before. "Manna, such is to be our life. We acknowledge the grace of heaven, that we, possessed of wealth and inheriting noble names, can occupy a lofty position, but are ready every moment to unite ourselves with our brothers and sisters who walk the holy paths in coarse shoes and barefoot, and to put ourselves on a level with them. Manna, thus will we live!"

He took her hand, which she allowed him to hold an instant, and then drew it away. He continued: —

"I have never yet told you that I too have wrestled with the holy resolution to renounce the world, and to assume the priestly vow. You also, elevated and pious, have struggled, and have returned to the world. I place my heart, my soul, my soul's salvation in your hand. Here, on this consecrated spot, come with me into the chapel." He seized her hand, and at the same moment, Eric cried: —

"Fräulein Manna!"

"What's the matter? What do you want?" exclaimed Pranken.

"Fräulein Manna, your father wants me to tell you that yonder is a boundary-stone convenient for you to mount your horse."

"I shall not ride again, I shall walk back to the house," replied Manna; and turning round, whether she knew that Pranken was not following her, or did not know it, she went on with Eric. After they had gone some distance, turning round she saw Pranken still standing motionless in the place, and she called to him to come with them.

In spite of all urging, she would not mount her horse, but walked the whole distance in her heavy riding-dress.

She said nothing; there was a strange look of defiance in her countenance.

She locked herself in her room, and wept and prayed for a long time.

The struggle had come sooner than she thought, and she seemed to herself all unarmed. Pranken had a right to address her in that way. And would it not be better that she should enter into life? At this thought she looked around, as if she must ask Eric what he thought of this conclusion, what opinion he would form of this fickleness. Again she looked around, and it seemed to her that Eric had come into the room with her, and still she was alone.

It was a severe conflict, and only this one point was gained, that she would no longer allow herself to be robbed of herself by such distractions.

A boat-sail upon the Rhine had been appointed for the evening. Manna, who had promised to go, now positively declined. She stood at the window of her silent chamber without opening it, and she wished that it was grated. She saw the gentlemen and the ladies go down to the river, and heard Lina singing a beautiful song accompanied by a fine manly voice.

Who is that?

It is not Pranken, nor Roland; it can be no other than Eric.

On the boat, Lina requested Eric to sing the "Harper's Song," set to music by Schubert. Eric considered it entirely inappropriate to sing aloud here, in a joyous company upon the Rhine, the plaint of a sorely burdened soul breathed out to the lonely night.

But Lina persisted, and Eric sang, —

"He that with tears did never eat his bread."

The rowers stopped rowing, and Eric's voice thrilled the inmost soul. He paused, and then sang the words, —

"Ye lead us onward into life. Ye leave The wretch to fall; then yield him up, in woe, Remorse, and pain, unceasingly to grieve; For every sin is punished here below."

Schubert's air closes without any musical cadence, just as Goethe's words give no final solution. The strain, "For every sin is punished here below," filled the air as the boat glided past the villa. Manna heard the words, sank down, and covered her face with both hands.

Hour after hour passed away, and then some one knocked at the door. Manna waked from the sleep into which she had fallen in the midst of her anguish. It was quite dark. Roland and Lina were calling her name. Overcome by weariness of body and soul, Manna had not been able to keep from falling asleep, and now she joined the rest of the family, as if in a dream. It seemed to her as if it were morning, and yet it was night. She had a feeling of oppression in the society of those around her, all of whom looked upon her with loving eyes.

In order, as it were, to recover self-possession, she proposed another sail upon the Rhine by moonlight, and she asked Lina to sing.

Lina rejoined that she could not sing so beautifully as Eric, and that he ought to sing.

"Do sing," Manna said to him. "I cannot sing now," Eric replied.

The first request she had ever made of him he positively refused to grant. Manna was vexed at first, and then she was glad of this lack of friendliness. It is better thus; there is no reason why he should interest you in any way; you must again take the proper position in regard to him. And in order to show that she did not feel hurt by the refusal, she was more animated than she had ever been before.

When they returned from the excursion, Sonnenkamp met them as they were getting out of the boat, and told them that Sevenpiper had informed him, lest they should be taken by surprise, or be away – but no one was to know anything about it – that he was to be waited upon by the boatmen to-morrow evening, to thank him for the benevolent institution he had established.

CHAPTER VIII.
THOU SHALT LAUGH, DANCE, AND DRINK

"A house without a daughter is like a meadow without flowers," said the Major, who was watching, with Sonnenkamp and the Professorin, the young people playing graces in the lawn between the villa and the green cottage.

Lina had induced Manna to be present, and she was there in a bright summer suit. And Lina, together with the maid, had prevailed upon Manna to wear a deep red velvet ribbon in her black hair, and that her rich dark hair should be shown to the best advantage.

The young people formed a large circle, sending differently colored hoops swiftly through the air, and catching them upon the pretty sticks.

The Architect was present, too, having been invited at Manna's special request. No one except herself and Lina knew why this had been done.

Roland had requested Eric to join in the play; at first he declined, but Lina cried, —

"Whoever doesn't play wears a wig and is afraid of its being found out."

He made one of the circle. Pranken gave him a sort of military salute with his stick, as if it were a sword. They laughed merrily as they sprang about on the lawn, and it was a delight to the eye to witness Roland's, and, still more, Manna's graceful movements. When she looked up and reached out an arm, with her lithe and ethereal form, it appeared as if her eyes were fixed upon something else than the play; as if she were in an ecstasy, and were expecting not a hoop, but some heavenly vision. Pranken stood on her right, and Eric on her left; Pranken threw so skilfully that she always caught the hoop from him, while Eric sent it too high or too low, so that she was obliged to stoop and pick it up from the ground. It almost seemed as if he did it purposely, for in this movement Manna's grace was always displayed afresh.

Roland and Lina made fun of his clumsy play.

Lina and Roland kept up a constant running fight; she struggled with the boy as if she were a boy herself, and they tried to throw each other down in the endeavor to catch a hoop tossed beyond the circle. But Roland was not thrown down, and escaped from all her clutches as smoothly as a weasel. The Architect smiled as he looked at Lina's fawn-colored gaiter-boots. As Eric was leaping forward to catch a hoop which Manna had thrown on one side, he fell his whole length on the lawn.

Manna laughed outright.

As soon as Lina heard it she clapped her hands, exclaiming, —

"The princess is set free! Manna has, heretofore, been the princess who couldn't laugh. Captain, you've broken the spell! What name shall we give to the knight who has set our Manna free?" Lina was overflowing with merriment, and she might indeed take pride in having been the means of enlivening the whole house, and, more than all, Manna.

Eric succeeded in turning his fall into a joke, and he was at a loss, when he looked at his mother, to know why she shook her head so strangely. He had entirely forgotten how she reminded him with pride during those sad days when Bella was visiting the villa, that his father had said he had never had a fall.

Manna's cheeks had never before glowed so brightly as they did to-day; the spell upon her seemed broken; one deep, hearty, childlike burst of laughter had given her new life. She was sorely vexed, but she could make no suitable response when Lina said to Herr Sonnenkamp: —

"Your Highness! The king was obliged to give the princess in marriage to the knight who made her laugh, and public proclamation was made of it from the tower of the castle throughout all lands. Now say what you will give to Herr Dournay."

"I grant him a kiss," answered Sonnenkamp.

"Herr Dournay, you are authorized to kiss Manna, her father grants permission," Lina called out to the company.

They all stood amazed, and Sonnenkamp cried: —

"No, child, that was not my meaning. He can give you a kiss."

"I don't need your permission for that," replied Lina.

She was now entirely in her element; wherever there was any fun, any teasing, she seemed a different being, quick, inventive, excessively merry, full of fanciful suggestions; as soon, however, as the conversation took a serious turn, she always sat very quiet and attentive, but her look said: —

"All this is no doubt very fine, but I've no relish for it; I've never yet seen that people were any better off or any merrier for all their smart speeches."

They returned to the villa.

Lina had hung her hat upon a bush. The Architect carried it to her, stroking the brown ribbons, and regarding fondly the brown straw braid, and the artificial vine-leaves, of a brown autumnal tint. He handed the hat to Lina, and while doing it they pressed each other's hands, as the Architect said that he must go to the castle again, in order to make some arrangements for the next day. For an instant only, Lina looked thoughtfully after him, and then, giving her head a toss, she bounded up the steps and went into the music saloon. Placing herself at the piano, she played a dancing tune, for the day must be wound off with a dance; the release of the princess who had not been able to laugh must be celebrated with a dance, and Lina was so self-denying as to be willing herself to play. When Pranken now came up to Manna and jestingly invited her to dance, Lina jumped up from the piano.

"No, that won't do! The knight of philosophy gone to grass; he who freed the princess, he must come first."

Lina would not have it otherwise. Manna had first to dance with Eric, and the Aunt was obliging enough to play for them, so that Lina could dance too. With a very roguish, saucy courtesy, she challenged Herr von Pranken, who took her arm without any hesitation, and danced with her behind Eric and Manna.

"I can't realize that I am dancing," said Manna, as she floated rather than danced round the great hall.

"Nor can I," replied Eric.

Manna broke the pause which ensued, by saying: —

"Lina sets us all crazy."

Pranken now came and asked her to dance; she was still somewhat out of breath. He held her hand until he began to whirl with her in the dance. Roland was delighted that Lina was free, and the Aunt must still keep playing for him to dance with Lina, as he was unwilling to stop.

Sonnenkamp was quite happy as he stood there in the music-saloon; and he said to the Professorin that this was all so pleasant, and he had never thought that he should see his children dancing in this hall. He had sent to Frau Ceres, who would like to be a looker on, too. She came, and Pranken and Manna must dance again in her presence.

Sonnenkamp praised the happy suggestion of his wife, that she should give a grand ball in honor of Manna; but Manna decidedly opposed this, and the wise Lina, happy in her triumph, begged the parents in a low tone not to urge Manna any further to-day, and she would bring everything about in good season.

After tea, Lina wanted to have another dance; she would like to keep up all night, and that Sonnenkamp should telegraph to the garrison to have the military band sent by an extra train.

She was to-day so full of buoyant sprightliness, and so overflowing with cheerfulness, that even Eric, who had heretofore regarded her with indifference, approached her in a very friendly mood.

"Yes," she said, "do you remember that time? Would you have believed that you should ever have danced with your winged apparition? Isn't she a heavenly creature? Ah, and if you ever know her as she used to be, so full of glee! Ah, I am delighted to think that you will fall so deeply in love with Manna, – oh, so deeply in love, – so dead in love. Will you promise me something?"

"What, for instance?"

"That you will tell me the very first day when you fall in love."

"But if I should fall in love with you, what then?"

"Come, don't talk so. I am much too stupid for you. I should have been smart enough for Herr von Pranken, but I am engaged, and out of the question. Hasn't Manna told you anything about me?"

Eric said she had not, and Lina continued: —

"Yes, do this, do it out of regard for me, and snatch Manna away from Baron von Pranken. I beg of you, do it for my sake."

"What are you laughing at so merrily?" said Manna, coming up to them. "I have begun to laugh to-day, and now I should like to keep you company."

"Tell her," said Lina with a nod. As Eric was silent, she continued: —

"He can tell you, but he is awfully reserved and profound. Don't let him have any peace, Manna, until he has told you. Herr Captain, if you don't tell at once, then I'll tell."

"I have that confidence in your sense of propriety," said Eric very seriously, "that I do not believe you would wantonly turn a joke into sober earnest."

Lina's whole mien changed, and she said:

"Ah, Manna, he is so awfully learned! My father says so too, and he sees people through and through. Don't you sometimes feel afraid of him?"

Without making any reply, Manna took Lina's arm and went with her through the garden, Lina chatting, joking, and singing incessantly, like a nightingale in the shrubbery.

After Manna had gone to her room, it seemed to her there that the pictures on the wall looked at her and asked: Who can this be? She shut out the dumb pictures by closing her eyes, threw herself upon her knees, and a voice within her seemed to say: It must be thus; thou art to become acquainted with the world, and all the vain delights of life, in order to gain the victory over them. Yet she felt down-hearted, for in the midst of her contrite prayer she seemed to hear the lively waltzes sounding in her ears, and she heard a burst of laughter. Could it have been she herself who had so laughed?

The next day she had to enter into fresh gaieties.

In the afternoon they drove to the castle, and there the Architect contrived a new delight. He was a genuine priest of the May-bowl, and with a sort of solemnity he mixed the various ingredients of the fragrant beverage. The whole company sat upon a projecting wall of the castle, and looked out upon the broadly-extending landscape, while Lina, in her exuberant joyousness, sang and caroled without intermission. She sang in the open air, as a general thing, better than in a room; and she had a good accompaniment, for she sang a duett with the Architect.

Eric was again asked to sing, and again he declined.

Lina induced Manna to drink a whole glass of May-wine, and said, in joke, that if she could only get Manna once a little intoxicated, the old Manna, or, more properly, the young Manna, would again show herself. She seemed ready to make her appearance, but Manna had strength enough to hold herself in restraint, though she laughed to-day at Lina's most trifling jokes.

Roland nodded to Eric, but he whispered to him that he must not call attention to Manna's cheerfulness, as that would put an end to it.

Wreaths were woven, and Lina recalled the time when Eric first came to Wolfsgarten; with wreaths on their heads they all drove from the castle back to the villa.

At the last declivity. Manna bounded lightly down the hill and Lina after her; at the foot the latter embraced her old schoolmate, saying to her: —

"You are released! You have done the three best things in the world; you have laughed, danced, and drunk – no, this is not the best; the best is yet to come."

And again Manna burst into a ringing laugh.