"It is a fortunate coincidence that the Sovereign himself may give us an opportunity of obtaining more accurate information."
"Ah, you poor men!" said Ilse, through the door, pityingly. "Now you are far worse than before; as long as the treasure was still supposed to be in our house, my father at least could keep a good look out; but now, it is in a chest far away in the wide world, and no one knows anything even of the house to which it may have been carried."
The friends laughed again. "Your father's house is not on that account less under suspicion," said her husband, consolingly.
The Professor sent back the contents of the chest to the Royal Council, expressed in his letter his warm thanks to the Sovereign, and mentioned that an uncertain trace made him very desirous of obtaining permission to make personal investigations.
The letter had the desired result for both parties. The Sovereign had the satisfaction, which is pleasing to earthly masters, of appearing to confer a favor while he was seeking one.
The Professor was joyfully surprised when he received from the Council in the name of the Sovereign a letter promising to promote his investigations in every way, and making the following proposal: The Sovereign wished his cabinet of antiquities to be examined by a scientific authority, and there was no one to whom he would more willingly trust this task than to the Professor. He knew well how valuable to others was the work of so learned a man, but he hoped that his collection might appear of sufficient importance to him to spend a few weeks upon it.
At the same time the Chamberlain wrote, by desire of his gracious master, that the Sovereign would be delighted if the Professor would accept the hospitality of the Palace during the time of his stay. A garden pavilion, which was a pleasant spring-residence, would be at his disposition. The dwelling was large enough to receive his family also, and he was commanded to suggest that there would be plenty of room if the Professor would bring his wife and servants, as the Sovereign did not wish that the learned man should be deprived of his domestic comforts during his stay. The beginning of the spring would be the best time for both parties; and the Chamberlain would be delighted to do the honors of the capital to his countrywoman.
The Professor hastened with flying steps to his wife, and laid the letter in her lap. "Here, read what endangers our journey into foreign lands. It will engross the greatest part of our traveling time. But I must accept the invitation; for any prospect, even the most distant, of obtaining the manuscript compels me to stake much that a man will only sacrifice for a great hope. Will you accompany me on this chase? You see, the kind people have thought of everything."
"I a guest of our Sovereign!" exclaimed Ilse, reading the letter. "Never should I have dreamt of such an honor. What will my father say of it! It is a very honorable invitation for you," she continued, seriously; "and you must at all events accept it. As for me, I think it may be best for me to remain here."
"Why should we be separated for weeks? – it would be the first time."
"Send me to my father meanwhile."
"Does not that come to the same thing?" asked the Professor.
"What shall I do among these strangers?" continued Ilse, anxiously.
"Nonsense," replied the Professor. "Have you any reason to give?" and he looked at her, discomposed.
"I cannot say that I have," replied Ilse.
"Then decide at once, and come. We should probably feel more free if we could live as we liked; but I should not wish to reside for weeks at a hotel in a foreign city; and, from another point of view, this reception will save both parties the difficulty of offering and refusing compensation. We shall remain there as long as is indispensably necessary; then we shall go south, as far as we can. It is, after all, only putting off the journey a few weeks."
When the Professor's letter of acceptance arrived, the Chamberlain informed the Sovereign of it in presence of the Marshal: "See to it that the pavilion is arranged as comfortably as possible. Dinner will be served at the pavilion at whatever hour the Professor wishes."
"And what position does your Highness intend the strangers shall occupy at Court?" inquired the Marshal.
"That is understood," said the Sovereign; "he has the privilege of a stranger, and will occasionally be invited to small dinners."
"But the Professor's wife?" asked the Marshal.
"Ah!" said the Sovereign, "the wife. It is true, she comes with him."
"Then," continued the Marshal, "there is to be dinner for two at the pavilion; apartments for two, and a room for a lackey without livery."
"That is enough," said the Sovereign; "for the rest, we shall see. If the Professor's wife visits our ladies, I assume they will return the civility. We will leave the rest to the Princess."
"What is the history of these strangers?" asked the Marshal of the Chamberlain. "You know the people."
"As one knows people in a strange city," replied the Chamberlain.
"But you arranged their coming?"
"I only wrote according to the Sovereign's orders. The Professor is a learned man of reputation, and a thorough gentleman."
"But what has his wife to do here."
The Chamberlain shrugged his shoulders. "He could not be got without his wife," he replied, cautiously.
"Yet the Sovereign made a point of her coming."
"Did that strike you?" asked the Chamberlain. "I, for my part, did not remark it. He made it appear as if it were a matter of indifference to him; and, furthermore, she is a country-woman of his."
"You know that the Sovereign would be the last to infringe the rules of the Court. There is no reason for anxiety."
"At all events, the Princess must maintain her position. I hear this Professor's wife is considered a beauty?"
"I believe she is also a woman of high character," replied the Chamberlain.
The Professor received the desired permission. Ilse made her preparations for the journey with a solemn seriousness which struck all around her. She was now to approach the presence of her Sovereign, whom she had regarded from a distance with shy respect. It made her heart heavy to think that the son had never spoken of his father, and that she knew nothing of her illustrious master but his countenance and manner. She asked herself, anxiously: "How will he treat Felix and me?"
Whilst Felix was collecting all the books and documents which were indispensable for the journey, the Doctor was standing sorrowfully in his friend's room. He was satisfied that the Professor could not withdraw from the duty of seeking for the manuscript; and yet his invitation to Court did not please him. The sudden breaking of their tranquil life disturbed him, and he sometimes looked anxiously at Ilse.
Laura sat, the last evening, near Ilse, leaning on her shoulder, weeping. "It appears to me," said the latter, "that something portentous lies in my path, and I go in fear. But I leave you without anxiety for your future, although you have sometimes made me uneasy, you stubborn little puss; for I know there is one who will always be your best adviser, even though you should seldom see each other."
"I lose him when I lose you," cried Laura, in tears. "All vanishes that has been the happiness of my life. In the little garden which I have secretly laid out for myself, the blossoms are torn up by the roots, the bitter trial of deprivation has come to me also; and poor Fritz, who already was practicing resignation, will now be quite lost in his hermitage."
Even Gabriel, who was to accompany the travelers to the capital and await their return home from abroad at the house of Ilse's father, was excited during this period, and often disappeared into the house of Mr. Hahn when it became dark. The last day he brought home from the market a beautiful bird of uncommon appearance, with colored feathers, pasted on a sheet, with the inscription: "Peacock from Madagascar." Gabriel wrote, in addition, in clear, stiff characters: "Faithful unto death." This he took in the evening to the enemy's house. A whispering might be heard there, and a pocket-handkerchief be seen, which wiped the tears from sorrowful eyes.
"No allusion is meant to the name of this family," said Gabriel, holding the bird once more in the moonlight, the beams of which fell through the staircase window upon two sorrowful faces; "but it occurred to me as a remembrance. When you look at it think of me, and the words I have written on it. We must part, but it is hard to do so." The honest fellow pulled out his pocket-handkerchief.
Dorchen took it from him; she had forgotten her own, and wiped her eyes with it.
"It is not for long," said Gabriel, consolingly, in spite of his own sorrow. "Paste the bird on the cover of your trunk, and when you open it and take out a good dress, think of me."
"Always," cried Dorchen, weeping. "I do not need that."
"When I return, Dorchen, we will talk further of what is to become of us, and I hope all will go well. The handkerchief which has received your tears shall be a remembrance for me."
"Leave it to me," said Dorchen, sobbing. "I must tell you I have bought wool, and will embroider you a wallet. This you shall carry about you, and when I write, put my letters in it."
Gabriel looked happy, in spite of his sorrow; and the moon glanced jeeringly down on the kisses and vows which were exchanged.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SOVEREIGN
The Hereditary Prince was walking with the Chamberlain in the gardens which surrounded the royal castle on three sides. He looked indifferently on the splendid coloring of the early flowers and the fresh green of the trees; to-day he was more silent than usual; whilst the birds piped to him from the branches, and the spring breeze wafted fragrance from the tops of the trees, he played with his eye-glass. "What bird is that singing?" he asked, at last, awakening from his apathy.
The Chamberlain replied, "It is a thrush."
The Prince examined the bird with his glasses, and then asked, carelessly, "What are those people ahead of us carrying?"
"Chairs for the pavilion," answered the Chamberlain; "it is being arranged for Professor Werner. The house is seldom open now; formerly his Highness, the Sovereign, used to live there occasionally."
"I do not remember ever having been in it for a very long time."
"Would your Highness like to see the rooms?"
"We can pass that way."
The Chamberlain turned towards the pavilion; the Marshal was standing at the door; he had come to see that everything was in order. The Hereditary Prince greeted him, cast a cursory glance at the house, and was inclined to pass on. It was a small grey-stone structure, in old fashioned style; there were shell-shaped arabesques round the doors and windows, and little dropsical angels supported heavy garlands of stone flowers with lines which appeared to have been cut out of elephant's hide; the angels themselves looked as if they had just crept out of a dirty swamp and been dried in the sun. The dark building stood amid the fresh verdure like a large chest, in which all the withered flowers that the garden had ever borne, and all the moss which the gardener had ever scraped from the trees, seemed, to have been kept for later generations.
"It is an uninviting looking place," said the Prince.
"It is the gloomy appearance that has always pleased his Sovereign Highness so much," replied the Marshal. "Will not your Highness examine the interior?"
The Prince passed slowly up the steps and through the apartments. The musty smell of the long-closed rooms had not been removed by the pastiles that had been burnt in them; logs were blazing in all the fireplaces, but the warmth which they spread still struggled with the damp air. The arrangement of the rooms was throughout orderly and complete. There were heavy portières, curtains with large tassels, and fantastic furniture with much gilding, and white covers for the preservation of the silk, mirrors with broad fantastic frames, round the chimney-piece garlands carved in grey marble, and upon it wreathed vases and little figures of painted porcelain. In the boudoir, on a marble console, there was a large clock under a glass bell; a nude gilded nymph poured water over the dial from her urn which was turned to gilded ice. Everything was richly adorned; but the whole arrangement, furniture, porcelain, and walls, looked as if no eye had ever rested on them with pleasure, nor careful housewife rejoiced in their possession. There were remarkable things from every part of the world; first they had been placed in the large assembly-rooms which were opened at Court fêtes; then they had ceased to be in fashion, and were moved into side-rooms. It was now their destiny to be handed down from one generation to another, and counted once a year to see if they were still there. Thus they passed a never-ending existence-preserved, but not used; kept, but disregarded.
"It is damp and cold here," said the Prince, looking round upon the walls, and again hastening into the open air.
"How do the arrangements please your Highness?" asked the Marshal.
"They will do very well," answered the Prince, "except the pictures."
"Some of them certainly are rather improper," acknowledged the Marshal.
"My father would be pleased if you could remove these. When is Professor Werner expected?"
"This evening," replied the Chamberlain. "Perhaps your Highness would wish to receive the guest after his arrival, or to pay him a visit yourself."
"You may ask my father," replied the Prince.
When the Prince went with his companion up the staircase to his own rooms in the castle, the Chamberlain began:
"The Professor's wife was very much pleased once with the flowers which your Highness sent her. May I commission the Court gardener to put some in her room?"
"Do what you think fitting," replied the Prince, coldly.
He entered his apartment, looked behind him to see if he were alone, and went with rapid steps to the window; from thence he looked over the level lawn and the blooming rows of trees to the pavilion. He gazed long through the window, then took a book from the table and seated himself in the corner of the sofa to read; but he laid the book on the table again, paced hastily up and down, and looked at his watch.
The Court dinner was over. The ladies cast a half glance behind them to see if the back-ground was clear for their retiring curtsies. The gentlemen took their hats under their arms. The Marshal approached the door, and held his gold-headed stick with graceful deportment-a sure sign that the royal party was about to break up. The Princess, who was still in mourning, stopped her brother.
"When do they come? I am so curious," she said, in a low tone.
"They are perhaps already there," answered he, looking down.
"I am going to the theatre to-day for the first time again," continued the Princess. "Come into my box if you can."
The Prince nodded. Information came to the Marshal, which he conveyed to the Prince's father. "Your teacher, Professor Werner, is come," said he, aloud, to his son. "You will undoubtedly wish to pay your compliments to him." He then bowed to the Court, and the young Princess followed him out of the room.
The Chamberlain hastened to the pavilion. The Marshal followed more quietly. A royal equipage had brought the travelers from the nearest station. They passed rapidly by the trees in the park, the pleasure-grounds, and the lighted windows of the royal castle. The pavilion was no longer a shapeless building, as it appeared in the day, under the glaring sun, to the indifferent eyes of the courtiers. The moon lighted up the front, and shone with a glimmering halo on the walls; it threw a silver glitter on the cheeks of the angels, and on the solid broad leaves of their garlands, and brought out strongly on the bright surface of the wall the shadows of the projecting cornices. Wax-lights shone through the open door. Lackeys, in rich liveries, held heavy candelabra. The steward of the house, a friendly looking personage, in dress coat and knee-breeches, stood in the hall and greeted the comers with polite words. Following the lackeys, Ilse ascended the carpeted steps, on her husband's arm, and when the servant threw back the portière, and the row of rooms appeared shining with wax-lights, she could hardly suppress an exclamation of astonishment. The steward led them through the rooms, explained the disposal of them, and Ilse perceived, with rapid glance, how stately and comfortable they all were. She looked with admiration at the abundance of flowers which were placed in the vases and bowls. She wondered whether her little Prince had shown this tender attention, but was undeceived when the official announced that the Chamberlain had sent them. A pretty maid was introduced, who was to wait upon her exclusively. Gabriel stood in the ante-room considering where he and his traps would be taken, in order that the Professor's boots might, in the morning, be no dishonor to the splendor of the house. At last one of the lackeys showed him his room, and, like a good comrade, pointed out to him the lamps of a tavern, which for his leisure hours would be particularly agreeable.
Ilse went through the rooms as if stupefied by their splendor, and endeavored to open the window to let in some fresh air, for the strong fragrance of the hyacinths threatened her with headache. Then came the Chamberlain, behind him the Marshal, who was also an urbane gentleman of very refined appearance; and both expressed their pleasure at seeing the Professor and his wife. They offered their services on all occasions, and pointed out from the windows the position of the pavilion. Suddenly the lackey threw open the folding-doors, announcing "His Highness, the Hereditary Prince."
The young gentleman walked slowly into the room. He bowed silently to Ilse, and gave his hand to the Professor. "My father has commissioned me to express to you his pleasure that you have fulfilled his wishes;" and, turning to Ilse, he continued: "I trust that you will find the dwelling comfortable enough not to regret having left your residence at home."
Ilse looked with great pleasure at her Prince. He had, it appeared to her, grown a little. His demeanor was still rather depressed; but he had color in his cheeks, and it was clear that things were not amiss with him. The little moustache was stronger and became him well.
She replied, "I scarcely venture to turn round. It is like a fairy castle. One expects every moment that a spirit will spring from the wall and inquire whether one wishes to go through the air, or that four swans will stop at the window with a golden carriage. No chair is necessary to ascend to it, for the windows come down to the ground. The Park Street sends its greeting, and I give your Highness heartfelt thanks for the present which the Chamberlain sent me for the last Christmas-tree."
The Professor approached the Prince, mentioned to him the names of some of his colleagues, who had sent to him their kindest remembrances, and then begged him to express to his royal father his thanks for this hospitable reception.
Everything seemed to curl in ornamental scrolls. The lamps shone from the silver chandeliers, the hyacinths sent out sweet fragrance from every vase, the closed curtains gave the room a comfortable appearance, and on the frescoed ceiling a flying Cupid was represented holding a bunch of red poppies over the heads of the guests.
"To-day we will leave you to rest, as you must be tired," said the Prince, concluding the visit; and the Chamberlain promised to inform the Professor at an early hour the next morning when the Sovereign would receive him. Scarcely had the gentleman gone when a servant announced that dinner was served in the next room.
"Why, it is evening," said Ilse, shyly.
"Never mind," replied the Professor, "you have taken the first step. Show good courage." He gallantly offered her his arm. The man in smart livery conducted them into the next room, and drew back the chairs of the richly-adorned table. There was no end of courses. In spite of Ilse's protest a superabundant dinner made its appearance, and she said, at last, "I must resign myself to everything. There is no use in struggling against these spirits. Whoever lives in a Prince's household must be bold enough to go through all."
When the dinner at last was carried away, and Ilse had been freed from her anxieties about Gabriel, she busily began arranging her things. While she was unpacking she said to her husband, "This is a very charming welcome, Felix, and I now have real confidence that all will go well."
"Have you ever doubted it?" asked the Professor.
Ilse answered, "Up to this hour I have had a secret anxiety, I know not why, but it has now vanished; for the people here all seem so friendly and kindhearted."
As the Prince passed through the gardens back to the castle the two cavaliers behind him conversed together.
"A charming woman," said the Marshal-"a beauty of the first order. There is good blood there."
"She is in every respect a distinguished lady," replied the Chamberlain, aloud.
"You have already told me that once," replied the Marshal. "I congratulate you on this acquaintance from the University."
"How do you like the Professor?" asked the Chamberlain, turning the conversation.
"He appears to be a clever man," replied the Marshal, with indifference. "It is long since the pavilion has had such a beauty in it."
The Prince turned round, and he saw by the light of the large chandelier that the gentlemen exchanged looks with one another.
The Prince's carriage drove up. He entered it without saying a word to his companions, and drove to the opera. There he entered the ante-room of the royal box.
"How do the strangers like their abode at the pavilion?" asked the Sovereign, kindly.
"They are content with everything," replied his son; "but the rooms are damp, and would not be healthy for a prolonged stay."
"They were never considered so, as far as I recollect," replied the father, coldly, "and I hope you will be convinced of it." Then, turning to the Chamberlain, he said, "To-morrow, after breakfast, I wish to speak to Mr. Werner."
The Hereditary Prince went into the box to his sister, and seated himself silently at her side.
"Where are the places for the strangers?" asked the Princess.
"I do not know," replied her brother.
The Princess looked behind her inquiringly.
"The strangers' box is opposite," explained the Chamberlain; "but they have enough to do to-day settling themselves."
"What is the matter with you, Benno?" asked the sister, after the first act. "You cough."
"I have caught a little cold. It will pass."
After the theatre the Prince retired to his bedroom, and complained to Krüger of a headache and sore throat. When he was alone, he opened the window and looked across the pleasure-ground to the pavilion, the lights of which glimmered like stars in the night. He listened. Perhaps he might hear some sound from there. He found it warm, for he took off his necktie, and long stood motionless at the window, till the cool night air came into his room and the last light was extinguished. Then he closed his window gently and went to bed.
This was not prudent, for the Prince, whose health was easily affected, awoke the following morning with a severe cold. The doctor was hastily called, and the Prince was obliged to keep his bed.
When the indisposition of the Hereditary Prince was announced to his father, it put him in a bad humor. "Just now!" he exclaimed. "He has every misfortune unhealthy people are heir to." When, afterwards, the Professor was announced, the way in which he received the announcement was so cold and constrained that the Chamberlain felt very anxious about the reception of the Professor. The long habit, however, of receiving graciously, and the dignified bearing of the Professor, had a softening influence. After a few introductory words, the Sovereign began a conversation about Italy; and it appeared that the Professor was in correspondence with a distinguished literary Roman, who was one of the Sovereign's most intimate acquaintances when he was last in Italy. This gradually placed the Professor in quite a different light to the Sovereign. He had sent for him as a mere useful tool, but he now found he was a man who had claims to personal consideration, because he was known to others whose position was respected by the Sovereign. The Sovereign then asked how the matter of the lost manuscript stood, and smiled at the eager zeal of the Professor, when he told him of the new clue which he had found in the records.
"It would be well for you to prepare a memorial of the whole state of the affair, which will assist my memory, and add to it what help you wish from me or my officials."
The Professor was very grateful.
"I will not deny myself the pleasure of taking you to the museum," continued the Sovereign. "I shall thus see what a learned man, who is a thorough connoisseur, thinks of the quiet amusement of an amateur collector."
The doors flew open, the learned man entered the spacious rooms with the Sovereign. "We will first go rapidly through the rooms that you may obtain a general view of their contents and arrangements," said the Sovereign. While the Professor looked at the abundance of beautiful and instructive remains of antiquity, many of which were quite new to him, the Sovereign gave some account of them; but soon left it to the learned man to search out for himself objects of interest, and it was now his turn to give explanations. Here there was an inscription, which no one probably had copied; there a specimen of pottery, with very interesting figures on it; then a statuette, a remarkable variation of a celebrated antique piece of sculpture; here the unknown coin of a famous Roman family, with their coat of arms; and there a long row of amulets, with hieroglyphics.
It was a great pleasure to the Sovereign to find out the importance of apparently insignificant objects, and every moment to receive new information concerning their value and names, but the Professor had the tact to avoid long explanations. He looked with quite a youthful interest on the collection. It happened just at a time when he was not occupied with great works, he brought with him a lively susceptibility for impressions, and at every step he felt how charming were the new views which he obtained; for there was much here that invited a closer examination. He inspired the Sovereign with something of the enjoyment he felt himself. There was no end of his questions, and the answers of the Professor. The Sovereign was delighted to tell how he had obtained many of the objects, and the Professor, by relating similar stories of discoveries, led him on to give further accounts. Thus some hours passed without the Sovereign experiencing any weariness, and he was much astonished when he was told that it was dinnertime. "Is that possible?" he exclaimed. "You understand the most difficult of all arts, that of making the time pass quickly, I expect you at dinner; tomorrow you shall see the collection again, undisturbed by my remarks; then you must favor me with a written report of what is desirable with respect to the arrangement, so as to make the valuable objects serviceable to science."
At dinner-there was no one present but some gentlemen whom the Professor, by the advice of the Chamberlain, had visited in the morning-the conversation was continued. The Sovereign related much about Italy, and contrived in a cursory way to draw attention to the personal relations of the Professor with his own acquaintances, in order that his Court might know something about the man with whom he was so much pleased. The conversation was easy and pleasant, and before the Sovereign left the company, he turned again to the Professor, and said, "I desire much that you should feel at home with us, and I hope to pass more than one day as agreeably as I have done this."
To the Professor also it had been a refreshing day, and in going away, he said, in great spirits, to the High Steward: "His Sovereign Highness understands very well how to say kind things."
The High Steward bowed his white head civilly, and replied, "That is the vocation of princes."
"Certainly," continued the Professor; "but so warm an interest in the details of a remote province of scientific inquiry is more than I had anticipated."
The High Steward made a courteous movement, which was to signify that he could not contradict the assertion; he enveloped himself in an old-fashioned little mantle, bowed silently to the gentlemen who were similarly occupied, and entered his carriage.
In intelligence and education the Sovereign was superior to most of his fellow princes. He had preserved much of the elasticity of his youth in advanced age; his bodily condition was excellent, and he took great care of his health; he was still capable, in case of necessity, of exertions which would have been severe to a younger man. In his youth he had devoted himself enthusiastically to the ebullitions of the then fashionable poetry, and had indulged in higher and freer aspirations than other men. He had at that time corresponded with learned men and artists of repute, and he liked to tell of his intimacy with some man of prominent mind. But his youth and manhood had fallen in a weak and decrepit period of our development. In the years when a foreign conqueror had treated the German princes as the greater part of them well deserved, he also as a youth had bowed to the foreigner, and abandoned the sinking vessel at the right time to save his title to his country. Since then he had ruled over a pitiful race of men, for he had entered upon his government at a time of great national exhaustion; he had found little that he was compelled to respect or fear, seldom any men firm enough to maintain their rights against him, and no public opinion that was strong enough to oppose his encroachment by a unanimous determination. His country was governed by officials, the official places were continually increased, and concerning every lost key of a village church there was accumulated a bundle of legal documents; he allowed these prolix forms of proceedings which benumbed the life of the people to remain unaltered, and only took care that the officials, whenever his personal interest came into play, should be pliant servants, who would procure him money, and withdraw from publicity any past wrong dealings of their Sovereign.