"I begged her to go to her aunt who lives in this neighborhood, and to return in an hour," replied the Princess Sidonie.
"She has not done right in forgetting, my commands, in order to gratify yours; and she neglected her duty in exposing the Princess to such an adventure. It's not fitting that princesses should enter village houses alone, and disguise themselves."
The Princess compressed her lips. "My gracious lord and father, forgive me. I was not alone. I had the best protector with me that a princess of our house could have, that was your Highness's son, my brother."
The Prince drew back a few steps, and looked silently into her face; and, so strong was the expression of anger and displeasure in his countenance, that the Princess turned pale and cast down her eyes.
"Has the Princess appointed Prince Victor to be her protector in the peasant's farm?" he inquired. "Has Lieutenant" – he mentioned his family name-"permission to leave the garrison?"
"I came here on horseback without permission," replied Victor, with military composure.
"Report yourself under arrest," commanded the Prince.
Victor saluted and turned away. He unfastened his horse, and, nodding behind the Prince's back, over the hedge, to his cousin, he trotted back to the town.
"Make haste and cease this mummery," ordered the Prince. "The Princess will drive home in a carriage with the Hereditary Prince."
The young people made their obeisances and left the garden.
"I had a foreboding of this misfortune," said the Hereditary Prince, to his sister, when in the carriage. "Poor Siddy!"
"I would rather be the maid of this countrywoman, and wear wooden shoes, than continue to bear this life of slavery," cried the angry Princess.
"But do not make any remarks at dinner," begged Benno.
The nosegay of wild flowers stood in the bucket, and was torn to pieces in the evening by the countrywoman's cow.
The day following, the Lord High Steward, von Ottenburg, an old gentleman with white hair, entered the apartment of the Prince.
"I have requested your Excellence to call on me," began the Prince, politely, "because I wish to obtain your advice in a family matter. The day approaches when the Princess will leave us. Have you seen my daughter to-day?" he said, interrupting himself.
"I come from her Highness," answered the old gentleman respectfully.
The Prince smiled. "Yesterday I had to speak seriously to her. The children took into their heads to act an idyl, and I found them in peasants' dresses and in high glee. Our dear Siddy had forgotten that such sport might expose her to misinterpretation, which she has every reason to avoid."
The Lord High Steward bowed in silence.
"But it is not a question of the Princess now. The time has arrived when a decision must be made concerning the next few years of the Hereditary Prince's life. I have thought of his entering one of the large armies, in spite of the consideration due to his delicate health. You know that there is only one empire in which this is possible, and even there unexpected difficulties have arisen. There are two regiments in which one might be certain that the Prince would only have familiar intercourse with the officers of high birth. One of these regiments is commanded by Colonel Kobell, who quitted our service some years ago. It is not fitting to make the Prince his subordinate. In the other regiment an unexpected occurrence has taken place within this last month. A certain Mr. Miller has been introduced into it, contrary to the wishes of the corps of officers. Thus the Hereditary Prince is debarred from belonging to the only army which he could enter."
"Allow me to ask whether this second hindrance might not be removed?" said the Lord High Steward.
"They would gladly do anything to please us," replied the Prince, "but they do not know how to manage it; for the appointment of this unaristocratic lieutenant was made for political reasons."
"Could the difficulty not be removed by giving rank to the family of the lieutenant?" suggested the Lord High Steward.
"That has been cautiously tried, but the father would not consent; and, indeed, your Excellence, the objection would remain the same. You know that I am not a purist in these things, but daily intercourse with such a person would be unpleasant to the Hereditary Prince. Whether Miller, or Von Miller, the dust of the flour would remain."
There was a pause. At last the Lord High Steward began: "The advantages of a military career are certainly undeniable for young princes who have no means or chance of finding other active employment; but is this course advisable for a future sovereign who needs a preparation for a great career? I remember that in former times your Highness did not take a favorable view of a soldier's life at Court."
"I do not deny that," replied the Prince. "I must acknowledge to you that I still take this view. The usual condition of society is not now that of war, but of peace. The necessary training of a young prince for war undoubtedly develops some manly parts of his character, but delivers him helplessly into the hands of his officials in all essential matters. In confidence, your Excellence, a pleasure in epaulets lasts just during the time of peace; but in case of a great war, where real military talent is requisite, the military dilettanteism of princes, with few exceptions, turns out to be quite useless. All this is undeniable. Unfortunately it is at present no longer fashion that determines a military career for young princes, it is a serious necessity. The times in which we live are such that a strict connection between the Court and armies is inevitable; and what at one time was thought to be unnecessary is now the support of princes."
"I do not see that the position of reigning princes is strengthened by their being bad generals," answered the Lord High Steward. "Indeed, I venture to assert that many of the difficulties which now occur between princes and their people arise from the fact that our princes occupy themselves too much with the shoeing of horses, the training of recruits, and with the prejudices and ill conduct of garrisons, and have too little of the firmness, noble pride, and princely feeling which can only be developed by practice in worthier affairs."
The Prince smiled. "Your Excellence, then, is of the opinion that the Hereditary Prince should visit the University, for there is no other mode of training when he leaves this Court. The Prince is weak and easily led, and the dangers he would incur on this path are still greater than intercourse with officers of inferior grade."
"It is true," interposed the Lord High Steward, "that during the next few years the Hereditary Prince may find certain drawbacks in the advantages of an academy; but with respect to personal intercourse, there are sons of ancient families who are worthy of the honor of associating with the Prince. It would perhaps be easier there for the young gentleman to keep clear of unsuitable society than in a regiment."
"It is not this danger which I fear for him," replied the Prince; "but the unpractical theories and disturbing ideas which are there promulgated."
"Yet we should learn what one has to battle against," rejoined the Lord High Steward. "Does your Highness think, from the varied experience which you have attained through a highly intellectual life, that an acquaintance with these ideas is so dangerous?"
"Does a person go to hell in order to become pious?" asked the Prince, good-humoredly.
"A great poet having ventured this," replied the Lord High Steward, "wrote his divine poem; and my gracious lord, who himself has always preserved a warm interest in learned pursuits, considers our Universities at best a species of mild purgatory. If an infernal flame should cling to the soil of our illustrious Prince after his return from this place, it will soon be eradicated by the high interests of his princely calling."
"Yes," assented the Prince, with lofty expression, "there is a consecration in the office of princes which fits even a weak man for the great interests which he has to grapple with through his life. But, your Excellence, it is difficult to observe without contemptuous pity the sentimental fools' paradise of the new rulers, and hear the old phrases of love and confidence believed in and spoken of by princely mouths. Undoubtedly these popular ebullitions are transitory, and many of us older ones have once indulged in dreams, and endeavoured to plant green moss where it has been withered by the sun; but the fearful dangers of the present times make such wavering more dangerous to the new rulers, and false steps in the beginning of a reign may often ruin the position of the ruler afterwards."
The Lord High Steward replied apologetically: "It is perhaps well to be wiser than others, but to be more moderate is at no period advantageous. Still a little poetry and youthful enthusiasm may be allowed to our princes; and if I therefore venture to recommend a visit to the University for his Highness, the Hereditary Prince, it is with the satisfactory feeling that in doing so I express your Highness's own opinion."
The Prince looked sharply at the Lord High Steward, and a sudden cloud passed over his brow. "How should you know what my secret thoughts are?"
"That would be quite a vain attempt with your Highness," replied the old courtier, gently, "and it would little benefit an old servant to spy into the secret thoughts of his master. But your Highness has always hitherto given the Hereditary Prince tutors and attendants who were not military. This leads every one to a conclusion respecting your Highness's wishes."
"You are right, as always," said the Prince, appeased. "It is a pleasure to me to find that your views coincide with mine. For it is a serious decision that I have to make; it robs me for a long time of the company of my dear Benno."
The Lord High Steward showed his sympathy by a silent bow. "Your Highness's decision will undoubtedly produce great changes, for it will at the same time remove all the young people from the Court."
"All?" asked the Prince, surprised. "The Hereditary Prince will depart shortly after the marriage of his sister, but Prince Victor will still remain here."
"Then I humbly beg your pardon," rejoined the Lord High Steward. "I had taken for granted that the departure of the Hereditary Prince would be followed by the entrance of Prince Victor into a foreign army."
"What makes you think that?" said the Prince, with surprise. "I have not the least intention of providing for Prince Victor abroad; he may practice the art of riding in our squadrons."
"In this case his position at Court would be changed," said the Lord High Steward, thoughtfully; "on occasions he would rank and act as the representative member of this illustrious house."
"What are you thinking of, my Lord High Steward?" replied the Prince, captiously.
"Will your Highness graciously explain how that can be avoided? The rights of blood can never be given or taken away. The Prince is the nearest relative of the Royal Family, and the rules of the Court require a corresponding position, and the Court will insist that he be not deprived of it."
"The Court!" exclaimed the Prince, contemptuously; "You might as well say at once, the Lord High Steward."
"The Lord High Steward is appointed by your Highness to watch over the regulations of the Court," replied the old gentleman, with solemnity. "But as my personal opinion, I venture to suggest that service in this capital and the proximity of the Court are not advantageous for the active and energetic spirit of Prince Victor; it may be foreseen that your Highness will often have occasion to be dissatisfied with him, and that the loss of your Highness's favour, considering the lively and popular character of the Prince, may give occasion to continual scandal and malicious talk. Therefore I venture to assume that the considerations which hinder the military career of the Hereditary Prince in a foreign army will have no weight as regards Prince Victor."
The Prince looked down moodily. At last he began, as if convinced: "I thank you for having called my attention to these considerations: I will come to a decision after mature deliberation. Your Excellence may be satisfied that I know how to value the warm sympathy you take in me and mine."
The Lord High Steward bowed and left the room; the furrows deepened in the face of the Prince as he looked after the old man.
The consequence of this conversation was that the Hereditary Prince was sent to the University, where the event did not create so much commotion as was expected at Court.
The Rector, one evening, came to Professor Werner, and after greeting Ilse, began, "You set a good example to your country when you came to us; a communication has been made from head-quarters to the University that in the next term your Hereditary Prince will begin his studies with us." Then, turning to the Professor, he continued: "It is expected that we shall all do what we can, compatibly with the duties of our office, to advance the education of the young Prince. I have to convey to you the wishes of his Highness that you should lecture to the Hereditary Prince in his own room."
"I shall give no Prince's lectures," replied the Professor; "my branch of learning is too comprehensive for that; it cannot be put into a nutshell."
"Perhaps you could lecture on some popular theme," advised the prudent Rector. "It appears to me that greater value attaches to the beneficial effect of your personal intercourse with the Prince than to the contents of your lectures."
"If it is agreeable to the Prince to be in our house, and he will accommodate himself to our habits, I shall show him every respectful and fitting attention. But in my course of instruction I shall make no change on his account. If he attends my lectures as a student, well and good; but I will never give any private lessons in his room or in that of any one else."
"Will not your refusal be regarded as an incivility?" rejoined the Rector.
"It is possible," replied the Professor, "and I must acknowledge to you that in this case it is particularly painful to me. But no personal consideration shall induce me to give up a principle. I have formerly experienced how humiliating it is to have to fashion and fit a serious subject to the comprehension of a boy who has not the necessary preparatory knowledge and the power of grasping and taking a real interest in it. I shall never do it again. But I will do all that I can for this young gentleman, although I must confess that my studies lie far from the high road of princely education. If they wish to learn of us what may be profitable for their future life, they must do so in a regular way, and they should come to us with the preparatory knowledge which alone will make it possible for them to derive advantage from learning. I have here and there observed from a distance how sad is the education of most of them. The shallow and superficial nature of their training, which renders it almost impossible for them to take a warm interest is any domain of intellectual labor, is also of little value for their future life, and gives them little capacity for their duties as rulers. We participate in inflicting this injury, if we impart a mere varnish of learned culture to youths who have not in truth as much knowledge as a freshman. And that is usually the object. It is not necessary to visit the University in order to become a useful man; but if one enters this difficult path-and I think undoubtedly that every future ruler ought to do so-it should be in a way that will secure valuable results. I do not condemn the teachers who think otherwise," concluded the Professor, "there are undoubtedly subjects in which a succinct presentation of some of the leading principles is possible and profitable. But the study of ancient learning is not of this class, and, therefore, I beg to be excused from giving private lessons to the young Prince."
The Rector expressed his approbation of these principles.
"My poor Hereditary Prince," cried Ilse, pityingly, when the Rector left.
"My poor manuscript," retorted the Professor, laughing.
"But you have made an exception in favor of your wife," rejoined Ilse.
"Here the instruction is only the guide to the elucidation of our whole life," replied the Professor. "Under these circumstances, you will be able to contemplate only from a distance the future Sovereign of Bielstein as belonging to you; and I shall also lose certain faint hopes which I had built upon the passing acquaintance with his father. For it is undoubtedly probable that my refusal will be considered as an act of capricious pride."
The Professor might have been at ease upon this point. Care would be taken that his views should not reach the destination for which they were intended. The sharpness would be blunted, the point broken, for indeed in the higher regions such an idea would be considered so monstrous that it could only be put down to the account of a reprobate man; and this was by no means the case with the Professor.
The Rector was cautious enough to give plausible reasons for Werner's refusal, and at the Prince's palace it was determined that the Hereditary Prince should attend the Professor's lectures. From a syllabus of Werner's lectures a course was selected; it was on the inspection and explanation of casts of antique sculpture, during which the Hereditary Prince and his attendant had at least not to sit among a crowd of colored caps, but could wander about in princely isolation.
Again did the ripened ears of corn wave gently under the autumn breeze, when Ilse went with her husband to the home of her childhood to visit her father. A year abounding in happiness, but not free from pain, had passed. Her own life also had been a little history in which she had experienced peace and strife, progress and weakness. Her pale cheeks showed that she had encountered suffering, and her thoughtful countenance portrayed the serious thoughts that had passed through her mind; but when she glanced at the weather-beaten church, and fixed her eyes on the dark roof of her father's house, everything was forgotten, and she felt again as a child in the peaceful home which now appeared so refreshing and comforting. The farm-people thronged round the gate; and her sisters rushed to meet her, and her father, towering above all, helped her and her husband out of the carriage. She clasped every one of them in a silent embrace; but when little Franz sprang up to her, she pressed him to her heart, and, losing all her composure, burst into tears, and the father was obliged to take the child from her arms.
They could only pay a short visit, for his professional duties compelled the Professor to return home soon; and though he had proposed to Ilse to remain longer with her father, she declined doing so.
The father looked searchingly at the manner and countenance of his daughter, and made the Professor tell him repeatedly how rapidly and easily she had made herself at home in the city. Meanwhile Ilse flew through the farm-yard and garden out into the fields, again gambolling with her little sisters, who would not let go her hand.
"You are all grown," she exclaimed, "but my curly head most of all-he will be like his father. You will be a country gentleman, Franz."
"No, a Professor," answered the boy.
"Ah, you poor child!" said Ilse.
The laborers left their work and hastened to meet her, and there were many kind greetings and questions: the head carter stopped his horses, and the grey mare tossed her head. "She knows you well," said the man, cracking his whip gaily.
Ilse went into the village, to pay a tribute of respect to the dead and to visit the living. It was with difficulty that she could get away from the invalid Benz, and when at last she did so, he called for his slate, and with trembling hands gave expression to his joy in poetry. She then made a careful inspection of the farm-yard. Accompanied by a train of maids, she walked between the rows of cattle, in spite of her fashionable dress, like the legendary Frau Berchta, who scattered blessings throughout the stable and house. She stopped before every horned head; the cows raised their mouths to her, lowing; and there was some important news to tell of each. The maids proudly showed her the young calves, and begged her to give names to the grown-up heifers-for the proprietor had desired that these young ones should be named by Ilse-and she gave them the distinguished names of Kalypso and Xantippe. All was familiar, all as formerly, and yet at every step there was something new to eye and ear.
Clara showed her household accounts: the young girl had kept them admirably. The praises which were bestowed upon her by the house-keeper and by the dairy maid, in confidential conversations, gave Ilse great pleasure, and she said: "Now, I am quite satisfied you can do without me here."
Towards evening the Professor sought his wife, who had been absent some hours. He heard the noise of the children by the brook, and guessed where Ilse was. When he turned round the rock by the cave he saw her sitting in the shadow, her eyes turned to her father's house. He called her name, and stretched out his arms towards her; she flew to his bosom, and said, softly: "I know that my home is in your heart; bear with me, when old recollections crowd upon my mind and move me deeply."
At night, when her father conducted the Professor to his bedroom, still conversing with him upon business and politics, Ilse sent her sister Clara to bed, and seated herself in her chair. When her father came in to fetch his candle from the table, he found Ilse again in her old place, waiting to bid him good night, while she handed him the candle stick. He placed it on the table, and, walking up and down the room, as he had done of yore, began, "You are paler and more serious than you used to be. Will that pass?"
"I hope it will," replied his daughter. After a time she continued, "They believe and think very differently in the city from what we do, father."
The father nodded. "That was the reason I was anxious about you."
"And it is impossible for me to free myself from painful thoughts," said Ilse, softly.
"Poor child," said the father, "it passes my powers to help you. For us, in the country, it is easy to believe in a father's care, when one goes across the fields and sees the growth of everything. But let a simple countryman say a word in confidence to you. Moderation and self-renunciation are necessary in all earthly concerns. We are not better in the country and more sensible because we care little for what is mysterious to man. We have no time for subtle inquiries, and if a thought alarms us, our work helps to dispel our doubts. But thoughts return frequently. I have had days-and have still-when my brains have been on the rack, although I knew that no good would come of it; therefore I now endeavor to keep such thoughts away. This is prudence, but it is not courage. You are placed in a sphere in which hearing and reflecting are unavoidable. You must struggle through it, Ilse. But do not forget two things: on difficult subjects men take very different points of view, and on that account they have, from the most ancient times, hated and slaughtered each other like cannibals, merely because each considered himself in the right. This should be a warning to us. There is only one thing effectual against doubts: to do your duty and concern yourself with what lies in your daily path; for the rest, do not despair because one thinks differently from another. Are you sure of your husband's love?"
"Yes," replied Ilse.
"And have you a thorough respect for his conduct to yourself and others?"
"Yes."
"Then all is well," said the father; "for a tree is known by its fruits. As regards the rest, do not worry about the present or the future. Give me the candle, and go to your husband. Good night, Frau Professor."