"I want you to be good now, and make up for all the trouble I gave to my old teacher; do be well-behaved."
Knopf continued to object, and at last he brought out, in a plaintive tone, that he had no straps to his pants. Everybody laughed, and Roland in the midst of his sorrow laughed too. Knopf was extremely happy to find that Roland could laugh, and now he yielded. Roland helped him mount, stroking the arm of his former teacher, and stroking the horse; Knopf and the Prince rode off together. But Eric did not mount again; leading his horse by the bridle, he went hand in hand with Roland to the Villa.
And now, in the still night, Eric was incessantly occupied in thinking of what the Doctor had said; how great was the discord in the whole modern world, so that the life of states, and even many of the occupations of private life, were not regulated by ethical principles. Not in the way prescribed by the Doctor, – besides, it had left no impression whatever on Roland, – would the youth gain rest and strength, nor in any way but in the acknowledgment that each one must strive earnestly to conform to the moral law, and make it an integral part of his actual life.
Roland listened to him quietly, occasionally clasping the speaker's hand with a firmer hold.
When they were approaching the Villa, Roland said, sighing deeply: —
"Ah, Eric, now the house is robbed in a very different way from what it was when we came back from Wolfsgarten."
No change had been wrought in the dejected feelings of Roland by what the Doctor had said, nor by Eric's utterances; the only effect was to enable him to express himself freely.
CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW PILLORY AT THE CHURCH DOOR
The swallows were flocking together and twittering over Villa Eden, over the jail not far from the house of the Justice, over the military club-house in the capital, and wherever they flocked, everybody was talking of Sonnenkamp, of what had happened and of what would happen to him.
In the basement, in the large room near the kitchen, Sonnenkamp's domestics were sitting at table. Bertram's chair was vacant. Somebody was saying that the porter would have to scrape the writing off the wall, and that he had already given the master notice that he should leave. The "chief," who spoke German quite fluently when he was in anger, was cursing the rascality of domestics in leaving their master, who had no farther to concern themselves than to get their regular pay. The Cooper contested this, Of course, the honor of the master was the honor of the servant, but they ought still to remain with Sonnenkamp; if there was a good deal in him that was bad, there was also much that was good. Joseph, whose personal opinion did not have its just weight, on account of his confidential relations with Sonnenkamp, was glad that the Cooper had hit the right point.
The second coachman, the Englishman, who also wanted to give notice of leaving, now said that he should not do it; but of course he must always be ready for a boxing-match.
The Squirrel expressed his fear that some one would set fire to the place, for the whole neighborhood was possessed by the devil. Lootz was not there, and nobody knew where the master had sent him. Old Ursel mourned over the innocent children, at the same time eating away with a fearful appetite, and uttering loudest lamentations with her mouth full.
The stuttering gardener made the proposal that they should remain, but should make a joint demand for higher wages. All agreed to do this, except Joseph and the Cooper, but were puzzled how it could be brought about.
The subterraneans were unanimous in their eulogies of Pranken. He was a nobleman whose like could not be found, who did not desert the master for a single moment. He had ridden out with him in the broad daylight, and did not concern himself as to what his noble relatives might say of him.
Here, underground, they were also glad to know that men were ungrateful and base. It was even known here that Sonnenkamp had made a present of the Villa to the Cabinetsrath, for what the latter had given for it was only a trifling sum; and now the gardener of the Cabinetsrath had reported that the country-house and the vineyard had just been sold to the American Consul, as a sort of gibe at Sonnenkamp; for the family of the Cabinetsrath wished to have no more intercourse with Villa Eden.
In just the same way, although by men of a different position in society, were Sonnenkamp's circumstances discussed in the military club-house of the capital, as well as in the beer-houses. For some time, Adams, the negro servant of the Prince, had everywhere been the topic of conversation. There were various wonderful stories how five men were hardly able to restrain the raving negro; that he had tried to choke Sonnenkamp, – only with the greatest difficulty had they succeeded in getting him out of the capital, and removing him to a hunting-seat. Then the conversation would turn upon Sonnenkamp. Everybody asked what he would do now; no one could understand how it was that Pranken stood by him, and how the family permitted such a thing. In the military club-house there was also an Ursel, but here she took the form of a pensioned lady of high rank, who also ate heartily, and, while eating, spoke very compassionately of the poor children of the millionaire.
But the conversation took a very peculiar turn in the house of Dr. Richard, where they were to-day giving a great coffee-party in honor of Frau Weidmann, who had come on a visit; it had been arranged several days before, and the Professorin, Aunt Claudine, Frau Ceres, and Manna had been invited; of course they did not come. Here and there they were earnestly discussing how they should treat the Sonnenkamp family, if they had the audacity not to leave the country as soon as possible.
Lina, who had returned from the trip with her betrothed, said that she would be the same in Sonnenkamp's family that she had always been, and that she would remain Manna's friend; for wherever the Professorin was, there any one might maintain social intercourse without detriment to one's honor.
The tone of the conversation became kindly as Frau Weidmann gave unreserved support to Lina; she spoke of the noble character of Roland, who had been on a visit to her house, and of the solid worth of Eric, whom her husband held in very high esteem.
Thus every one in the house, as well as in the neighborhood, seemed to be putting himself right, and adopting a moderate, kindly tone towards the Sonnenkamp family. But the bitter, detestable consequences of the occurrence manifested themselves in the green cottage on Sunday morning.
During the hour before mass, the indigent neighbors used to come for their regular weekly allowance; to-day there came only one solitary woman, in a sorry plight. She was a drunkard's wife, who was forever complaining and lamenting; she was constantly fretting about two children, one of which she held in her arms, and the other she led by her side.
It was only with some difficulty that the Professorin had brought herself to furnish assistance to this woman, because she was afraid that the drunkard would only be made more shiftless by so doing; she had yielded to the persuasion of Fräulein Milch, though she generally cut the talkative woman short. But she had to listen patiently to-day, now that the woman came alone and no others were there. The Professorin trembled when the woman said to her: —
"Yes, yes, such is the world! It's a topsy-turvy world. My husband makes wife and children unhappy because he squanders everything, and Herr Sonnenkamp makes wife and children unhappy because he has got everything. Yes, just so! It's a world turned upside down."
She assured the Professorin that she would take none of the gold of the slave-trader, if she could help herself in any other way.
And out of this gold my son is to enrich himself, said the Professorin, to herself, sitting there alone soon afterwards, as the bells were ringing. She sat quiet for a long time. Then Eric came in and said:
"Ah mother, another dreadful thing has happened!"
"Something new? Still another dreadful thing? What has happened?"
"He was bold and defiant; he went to church with Pranken."
"Who did?"
"Herr Sonnenkamp. And when he came out of the church, there stood all the people in a row, looking at him. He went up to a poor man and handed him a gold piece; the poor man took the money, and then threw it away, exclaiming: 'I will have nothing from you!' And they all cried out: 'We want nothing more from you! Take yourself out of the country.' Sonnenkamp went away, the piece of gold is still lying there before the church door, and no one will pick it up. O mother, the people are great and horrible at the same time."
"Did you see it too? Where did you hear about it? Were you too at the church?"
"No; Manna and Roland told me, and now they are sitting in the garden together, and weeping. I have hastened to you, for you only can help us. Comfort them, strengthen them."
"I have done all I can," said the Mother; "I am too weak, and I am afraid I shall be ill."
Eric called his aunt to remain with his mother, and returned to Roland and Manna.
The Doctor was sent for that very afternoon. The Professorin was sick.
CHAPTER XV.
A WHOLESOME ILLNESS
She whom all depended upon, to whom every one repaired, sure of care and assistance, – she was now unexpectedly in want of assistance herself, and was in a dangerous condition. The remarkable events and vicissitudes some had begun to overcome by means of their youthful strength, by stern defiance, and others by indifference; the Professorin alone felt a constant gnawing at her heart day and night.
Eric had remarked several days before, although he ascribed it to the sudden shock she had received, that his mother, when he was walking before her hand in hand with Manna, took everything cordially and kindly, but still dully, and as if weighed down by some feeling of depression. His mother was in the habit of seeking help from no one, she had always the power of assisting others, and in this doing for others she always found renewed strength.
From the day on which Fräulein Milch made that communication to her, it had been different; she performed only mechanically the duties which had previously been executed with such freedom and animation.
From that day forth, she had determined to keep clear of every luxurious indulgence which this ostentatious man might feel like putting in her way, and this she would do in a modest and retiring manner; from that day forth she looked upon herself as a traveller receiving temporary hospitalities, for all the home feeling of comfort had been taken away from her. She was prepared at any hour to pack up all that she possessed, and all that was arranged in such a quiet way about her, and remove to some other place.
She had never in her life been troubled by regret, she had done nothing for which she could reproach herself, or the memory of which was to be effaced; but now she was beset by a constant feeling of regret.
Why had she been so thoughtless as to connect herself with such a mysterious and disintegrated family?
Joy and grief affected her by turns, like one suffering under the delirium of fever.
Eric's happiness in loving Manna and being so deeply loved, which before had excited within her such a blissful pleasure, she now listened to and looked upon with an almost forced interest; and when Bella had so deeply mortified her, she could scarcely make any resistance, for it seemed to her as if it concerned someone else, and had no relation to herself. Thus she lived estranged from herself, but made no complaint, hoping that everything would right itself. She had no idea that there was an inward disturbance and distraction which would show itself on the first favorable opportunity. Now, when the needy declined charity at her hands, that inexpressible sadness, so long hidden and repressed, broke forth. It seemed to her inexplicable that her only son, her all in this world, was to be engrafted into this family.
The Doctor had found the Mother in a state of febrile excitement; he gave her a composing draught; but the opinion which he expressed before Eric, Manna, and Roland, had a still more quieting effect. The Mother complained that she had never known how much people could be at variance with themselves and with others. The Doctor replied, with a smile, that people were not generally so nice in their housekeeping as she was, and, referring to Sonnenkamp, said that there is such a thing as a zone of mind, or whatever else you may choose to call it, which furnishes organizations entirely exotic, but which nevertheless have their natural conditions, as our customary, everyday ones have. The constant solitary speculation and refining of thought, the recurring to her life with her husband, there thoroughly deep-seated melancholy of the noble woman showed itself in an increased sensitiveness and irritability; and it had reached such a point that fears were entertained for her life; something might occur which would be the occasion of suddenly extinguishing this flickering flame of life.
Eric, Manna, and Roland, trembling and apprehensive, surrounded the Mother with constant care, and in this anxiety for another, there was a great deliverance for themselves. The Doctor once said in the library to Eric: —
"If your mother had become sick on purpose, it would have been one of the wisest things she could have done; for it helps you all to get possession of yourselves."
Sonnenkamp also expressed profound sympathy, but he felt provoked; it is not now the time for sickness, every one must now stand erect so as to bear up under the storm. After some days, however, he found the Professorin's illness very opportune; it took some time to get accustomed to the new order of things; he even admitted to himself directly, that he would not regret it much if the Professorin should die; that would produce a change of feeling, and in the mean while everything was getting better very fast.
Fräulein Milch did not suffer Manna to devote herself entirely to the Professorin as she wished to do, and she herself was the best of nurses.
The Major went about in utter desolation. More than any one else, not even excepting the children, he was the most deeply affected, perhaps, by the disclosure of Sonnenkamp's past life.
"The world is right; that is, Fräulein Milch is right," he was all the time saying. "She has told me all along that I don't know men, and she's right."
In the mean while, he found a good place of refuge; he went to see Weidmann, at Mattenheim, for a couple of days.
CHAPTER XVI.
A BLACK WAVE
On Sunday evening a bustling crowd was streaming along the white road, up and down the banks of the river, and to and fro between the vineyards, all seeming to have one end in view.
Sonnenkamp, wrapped in his cloak, was sitting on the flat roof of his house, gazing with a sensation of dizziness upon the surrounding landscape. Once he walked to the eaves. His brain reeled, and he wanted to throw himself off.
So then it was all over, the hard thinking and everything! Nevertheless he stepped back again, and sat upon the flat roof until nightfall.
Suddenly his ear was struck by howls, cat-calls, hootings, rattling and clashing, as though hell itself had been let loose.
He sprang to his feet. Are these sounds within him? Is this all imagination? He hears them distinctly; the noise comes from beneath. It rises from the road, and he descries by the torchlight fantastic figures with black faces. Is that, too, only imagination? Have they come hither from the other world, those creatures with human forms?
"You must leave the country!"
"Begone to your blacks!"
"We'll fetch him out, and paint him black too!"
"And we'll tie him on his black nag, and lead him through the country, shouting: 'Look at him!'"
Then followed more whistling, bawling, crashing, rattling, and a sharp, jangling sound, produced by banging pots and kettles together. It was a most infernal din.
Then arose in Sonnenkamp's memory a vision of the past, – the image of a man accused of having incited slaves to revolt, driven through the streets, naked, tarred and feathered, pelted with rotten apples and cabbage stumps. The scene changed, and on the gallows hung John Brown.
The report of a gun was heard, and the voice of Pranken, crying: —
"Shoot the dogs down! I'll take the responsibility!"
Only one more shot resounded; then the raging mob came surging against the gate, which gave way with a crash, and in rushed the frantic rabble, all with black faces, and the cry arose: —
"We'll choke the whole of 'em!"
"Where is he?"
"Give him up, or we'll smash everything to pieces!" Sonnenkamp hastened down from the roof through the house, and, standing on the open balcony, heard Eric's voice, warning the crowd in powerful tones: —
"Are you men? Are you Germans? Who has made judges of you? Speak! I will answer you. You are bringing misery upon yourselves. You will be recognized and detected, in spite of your blackened faces. To-morrow will come the appointed judge; for we live in a well-governed country, and you are all of you amenable to the law."
"We don't want to touch the Captain!" cried a voice from the crowd.
Eric continued, —
"If there is one among you who can tell what you want, let him come forward."
A man with blackened face, whom Eric did not recognize, stepped forth and said, —
"Captain, it's me, the Screamer; let me speak. The new wine has got into our folks' heads below there. I'm as sober as a cat," added he, stammering.
"But what do they want?"
"They wish that Herr Sonnenkamp, or whatever his name is, should leave our part of the country, and go where he belongs."
"Yes! Let him take himself off!"
"And give me back my meadow!"
"And me my vineyard!"
"And me my house!"
Such were the cries uttered by the mob.
Claus quickly joined Eric on the steps, and called to the rabble, —
"If you go on shouting out such crazy stuff, and speaking all together, I'll be the first to choke any one who tries to get into the house."
"Let him be off!"
"Let him clear out!" "Hustle him out!" was the general cry.
Just as this was yelled forth, Sonnenkamp appeared on the steps. The howling, shrieking, and kettle-banging began anew; stones crashed through the great window-panes.
The Screamer, hastening up the steps, placed himself before Sonnenkamp, saying. —
"Keep still: I'll protect you."
Then he shouted, yet more violently, —
"If you say one word more, and if every man doesn't hold his neighbor, so that he can't move his arms, I'll be the first to shoot you down, without caring whether I hit the innocent or the guilty."
"Men, what have I done to you?" cried Sonnenkamp.
"Cannibal!"
"Kidnapper!"
"Slave dealer!"
"And if I were," exclaimed Sonnenkamp, "what gives you the right to judge me?"
"You must clear out of this!"
"Make yourself scarce!" was the cry from beneath.
"Herr Sonnenkamp, and you, Captain," said Claus, hastily addressing them both, "I only joined this savage troop, because I saw it was no use trying to hold them back, but I've caught them by the halter, and if you'll just leave everything to me, we'll make a carnival-sport out of the whole concern. You speak first, Captain, and I beg you to keep still, Herr Sonnenkamp."
"My men," began Eric, "let the stones alone. Do you know the great word, – 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone!' Has not every one of you done something that-"
"We've never sold men! Oh! the ogre!" they cried from below.
Eric could say no more. At this juncture Manna appeared, holding a branched candlestick with two lighted candles. A cry of astonishment went through the crowd; then all was still for a second, all eyes being rivetted on the girl as she stood there, pale, with sparkling eyes and dishevelled hair.
Roland, placing himself beside Eric, called out in a voice which resounded far and wide, —
"Stone us! Tear us in pieces! Come on; we are unarmed!"
"We don't want to hurt the children!"
"But the man-seller must begone!"
"Yes, he must clear out!"
"Be off!"
Again the tumult seemed increasing, the rioters pushing one another forward. All at once they recoiled, even those upon the steps shrinking back. Beneath the great door-way a white-robed form appeared, and her hair was gray.
The noisy wretches in the court were struck dumb, gazing upward with glances of amazement. Those assembled on the steps, turning round, saw the Professorin, standing there like a being from another world, from the boundless space of Eternity. Stepping quietly to the balustrade, she first raised and then lowered her hands as in blessing, as if calming the stormy waves. Profound silence reigned, and she spoke in tones which might be heard a great way off:
"No man can expiate his brother's sin by wrong-doing. Do not sin yourselves. Restrain yourselves, lest to-morrow you weep over to-day."
Her voice grew more powerful, as she said: —
"Conquer yourselves!"
Laying her hand on Sonnenkamp's shoulder, she said, in sonorous tones: —
"I promise you that this man, who has already done good, shall perform a deed so great as to reconcile you all to him. Do you believe me?"
"Yes, we believe the Professorin!"
"Hurrah for the Professorin! Huzza! Huzza!"
"Come along home! It's enough!"
A man carrying a drum struck up a march, when, just as the mob was about to depart, something came rattling along, helmets gleamed, the fire-engine came up, and a jet of water suddenly spurted over them all. A like shower came from the other side; for Joseph had hastened to the head-gardener's, and the hose was now used with effect. The stream from either side rose high into the air, and they all went off, grumbling, laughing, and cursing.
The men were still standing on the steps, and Eric was the first to speak, saying: —
"Mother, you here? And from your sick-bed? This may cause your death."
"No, my son, it has given life to me, to you, to all, and purity to all. I am ill no longer; a great and beautiful and fortunate deed has saved me."
Sonnenkamp, taking off his cloak, wrapped the Professorin in it, and they led the old lady, whose eyes shone wonderfully, into the great hall, where she sat down, while they all stood around her as about a saint.
Manna, kneeling before her, took her hands, and wept copious tears upon them.
"Now I only beg for quiet," said the Professorin. "I am calm; give me no further excitement now. I heard it, I know not how; I came hither, I know not how. Something called and impelled me, and it has ended well. Oh, believe that everything will yet turn out for the best. Herr Sonnenkamp, give me your hand. I have something to say to you."
"I will fulfil whatever you may command."
"You must do something, although I do not yet know what, in order to pacify the minds of these people."
"I will. I will summon a jury, in the choice of which you must assist me. To them I will unfold my life, and into their hands I will leave the decision of what is to be done."
"T