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The Lost Manuscript: A Novel

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"You must put on breeches," said Hummel; "you cannot otherwise go alone in your wanderings.'

"I will take some one with me," answered Laura, softly.

"Our maid Susan? She can carry a lantern for you. The paths in this world are sometimes muddy."

"No, father; I mean the Doctor."

She whispered to him:

"I want the Doctor to elope with me."

"Ah, you little spider!" cried Hummel, amazed. "The Doctor elope with you! If you were to elope with him, there would be more sense in it."

"That's just what I want to do," replied Laura.

"Mutually, then!" said Hummel. "Listen: the matter becomes serious. Leave off embracing me, keep your hands away, and make a face beseeming a citizen's daughter and not an actress."

He pushed her down on the window-seat.

"Now speak to the point. So you intend to carry off the Doctor? I ask you, with what means? For your pocket-money will not reach far, and he over the way has not much to spare for such Sunday pleasures? I ask you, will you first marry him? If so, the elopement would be very suspicious, for I have never yet heard of a woman carrying off her husband by force. If you do not marry him, there is something which you must learn from your mother, and which is called modesty. Out with it!"

"I wish to have him for a husband," said Laura, softly.

"Ah, that is it, is it? and was your Doctor ready to take charge of you before marriage, and to run away with you?"

"No; he spoke as you do, and reminded me that I ought not to give you pain."

"He is occasionally humane," replied Hummel; "I am indeed indebted to him for his good intentions. Finally, I ask you, where will you carry him off to?"

"To Bielstein, father. There is the church in which Ilse was married."

"I understand," said Hummel, "ours are too large; and what afterwards? Do you mean to work as a day-laborer on the estate?"

"Father, if we could but travel," said Laura, imploringly.

"Why not," replied Mr. Hummel, ironically; "to America, perhaps, as colleagues of Knips junior? You are as mad as a March hare. The legitimate and only daughter of Mr. Hummel will run away from her father and mother, from a comfortable house and flourishing business, with her neighbor's only son, who is in his way also legitimate, to a fools' paradise. I never could have thought that this hour would arrive."

He paced up and down.

"Now hear your father. If you had been a boy I would have had you well thrashed; but you are a girl, and your mother has formed you according to her principles. Now I perceive with regret that we have allowed you to have your own way too much, and that you may be unhappy for your whole life. You have got the Doctor into your head, and you might as well have fixed upon a tragic hero or a prince, and it shocks me to think of it."

"But I have not thought of such," replied Laura, dejectedly; "for I am my father's daughter."

Hummel laid hold of the plaits of her hair and examined them critically:

"Obstinacy; but the mixture is not throughout the same; there is something of higher womanliness with it; fancifulness, and whimsical ideas. That is the misfortune; here a powerful stroke of the brush is necessary."

These words he repeated several times, and sat down thoughtfully on his chair.

"So you wish for my consent to this little elopement. I give it you upon one condition. The affair shall remain between us two; you shall do nothing without my consent, and even your mother must not know that you have spoken to me of it. You shall take a drive into the world, but in my way. For the rest, I thank you for this present that you have made me on my birthday. You are a pretty violet for me to have brought up! Has one ever heard of such a plant taking itself by the head and tearing itself out of the ground?"

Laura embraced him again, and wept.

"Do not set your pump again in motion," cried Mr. Hummel, untouched, "that cannot help either of us. A happy journey, Miss Hummel."

Laura, however, did not go, but remained clinging to his neck. The father kissed her on the forehead.

"Away with you; I must consider with what brush I shall stroke you smooth."

Laura left the room. Mr. Hummel sat alone for a long time by his desk, holding his head with both hands. At last he began to whistle in a low tone the old Dessauer-a sign to the book-keeper, who was entering, that soft feelings had the upper hand with him.

"Go across to the Doctor, and beg him to take the trouble of coming over to me immediately."

The Doctor entered the office. Mr. Hummel rummaged in his desk and brought out a little paper.

"Here, I return you the present that you once made me."

The Doctor opened it, and two little gloves lay within.

"You may give these gloves to my daughter on the day on which you are married to her, and you can tell her they come from her father, from whom she has run away."

He turned away, approached the window, and thrummed on the pane.

"I have already told you before, Mr. Hummel, that I will not take back these gloves. Least of all will I do it for this purpose. If the happy day is ever to come to me when I can take Laura to my home, it will only be when you put your daughter's hand in mine. I beg you, dear Mr. Hummel, to keep these gloves until that day."

"Much obliged," replied Hummel; "you are a miserable Don Juan. I am in duty bound," he continued, in his usual tone, "to communicate to you what is of fitting importance to you. My daughter Laura wishes to elope with you."

"What now disturbs Laura," answered the Doctor, "and has given her these wild thoughts, is no secret to you. She feels herself oppressed by the unpleasant relations which subsist between us. I hope this excitement will pass away."

"May I be allowed to ask the modest question, whether it is your intention to agree to her plan?"

"I will not do it," rejoined the Doctor.

"Why not?" asked Hummel, coldly. "I for my part, have no objection to it."

"That is one reason the more for me not to act inconsiderately by you, nor to be treated in a like manner."

"I can bequeath my money to the hospital."

"To this remark I have only one answer," replied the Doctor. "You yourself do not believe that this consideration influences my actions."

"Unfortunately not," replied Hummel; "you are both unpractical people. So you hope that I will at last give you my blessing without an elopement?"

"Yes, I do hope it," exclaimed the Doctor. "However you may wish to appear to me, I trust that the goodness of your heart will be greater than your aversion."

"Do not count upon my indulgence. Doctor. I do not believe that I shall ever prepare a marriage-feast for you. My child gives herself with confidence into your hands; take her."

"No, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor, "I shall not do it."

"Has my daughter sunk so much in value because she is ready to become your wife?" asked Mr. Hummel, bitterly, and with a rough voice. "The poor girl has acquired some notions among her learned acquaintances, which do not suit the simple life of her father."

"That is unjust towards us all, and also towards our absent friends," said the Doctor, indignantly. "What now distracts Laura is only a petty enthusiasm; there is still in her some of the childish poetry of her early girlhood. He who loves her may have perfect confidence in her pure soul. Only in one respect must he maintain a firm judgment in dealing with her; he must here and there exercise a mild criticism. But I should be unworthy of the love of her pure heart if I should agree to a hasty proceeding, which would at a later period occasion her pain. Laura shall not do what is unbecoming to her."

"So that is Hindoo," replied Mr. Hummel; "there is a spark of sound common sense in your Botocudens and Brahmins. Do your learned books also find an excuse for a daughter not feeling happy in the house of her parents?"

"That is your fault alone, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor.

"Oho!" said Mr. Hummel; "so that's it."

"Forgive me my plain speaking," continued the Doctor. "It is the fashion of Laura's father to play the tyrant a little in his family, in spite of all his love for them. Laura has from her childhood been accustomed to view your strange nature with fear; therefore she does not form the impartial conception of your character, nor feel the pleasure in your mischievous humors that those not so intimately acquainted enjoy. If you had seen Laura's transport when I made known to her what you had done for my father, you would never doubt her heart. Now she is overcome with anguish about our future. But you may be assured, if Laura were to give in to her fancy and separate herself from her parents' house, she would soon feel gnawing repentance and longing for her parents. Therefore, the man for whom she would now make this sacrifice acts not only honorably, but also prudently, in resisting it."

Mr. Hummel looked fiercely at the Doctor.

"There is the old bear tied to a stake, the young puppies pull at his fur, and the cocks crow over his head. Take warning by my fate; under all circumstances avoid having female offspring." He put his hand upon the gloves, packed them up again, smoothed the paper, and shut them in his writing-desk. "Thus shall I lock up again my unnatural child; for the rest I remain your devoted servant. So your old Hindoos tell you that I am a droll screech-owl, and a jolly bonvivant to strangers. Is that your opinion of my natural propensities?"

"You are not quite so innocent," replied the Doctor, with a bow. "To me you have been always particularly rude."

"There is no one I would rather wrangle with than with you," acknowledged Mr. Hummel.

The Doctor bowed, and said:

 

"When you play with other men as with cats, they only bear such treatment because they perceive good intentions under your cross-grained exterior. I can say this to you, because I am one of the few men to whom you have shown real dislike; and, as you are also obstinate, I know very well that I shall still have to have many a tilt with you, and I am not at all sure how it will end between us. That, however, does not prevent my acknowledging the bitter amiability of your nature."

"I object to any further enlightenment as to my real character," exclaimed Mr. Hummel. "You have a disagreeable way of viewing your fellow-men microscopically. I protest against your painting me like a flea in the shadow on the wall. As concerns your proceedings as my daughter's lover, I am content with them. You do not choose to take my child in the way in which she is to be had; I thank you for your scruples. In this matter we are entirely of the same opinion, and you therefore shall not have her at all."

The Doctor wished to interrupt him, but Hummel waved his hand.

"All further talk is useless; you renounce my daughter, but you preserve the esteem of her father, and you have moreover the feeling of acting for the best for Laura. As you feel such great uprightness, you may console yourself with it. You will devote yourself to celibacy, and I should envy you, if it were not for the consideration of Madame Hummel."

"This will not avail, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor; "I have not the least intention of renouncing Laura's hand."

"I understand," replied Mr. Hummel; "you wish to besiege my daughter still, from across the street. This quiet pleasure I can, unfortunately no longer allow, for I am certainly of opinion that Laura must at some time leave my house; and as you have chosen the good opinion of the father rather than the daughter, we will confer on this point in mutual understanding. You are mistaken if you think that my daughter Laura will give up her fancies upon wise admonition. Have you not sometimes appealed to my conscience? It was all that could be expected, considering your age; but it has been of no avail with me. It will be the same with this obstinate child. Therefore I am, as a father, of opinion that we must give in to a certain degree to the folly of my child. Consider how far you can go to please us. She wishes to join the Professor's wife. She shall not go to this capital where my lodger has no home, but she has frequently been invited to Bielstein."

The Doctor answered:

"I have urgent reasons for going to my friend during the next few days. I will gladly make a detour by Bielstein, if you will allow me to accompany Laura on this journey, I shall make no secret of its purpose, – and least of all to my parents."

"This elopement is so shabby that, were I a girl, I should be ashamed of taking part in it. But one must not expect too much of you. I will not be at home when this departure takes place: you see, that is natural. I have already made my plans concerning my child's future. I give her over to you for the journey with confidence."

"Mr. Hummel," exclaimed the Doctor, disquieted, "I ask for still greater confidence. How have you decided concerning Laura's future?"

"As you have determined to show me such respect, I beg you will be content with the confidential intimation, that I have no intention of making you any such communication. You preserve my esteem, and I my daughter. My compact is concluded."

"But the compact is not quite satisfactory to me, Mr. Hummel," answered the Doctor.

"Hold your tongue. If in consequence of this agreement you resume your theatrical career, I should advise you never to act the rôle of lover. The audiences will run out of all the doors. Do I treat people like cats? – So I treated your father and his flowers this morning. You can give him an intimation of that. My wife has plucked to-day a few roosters for my birthday; if roasting these namesakes of yours does not excite painful feelings in you, it will give me pleasure to see you at dinner. You will not be under the embarrassment of having to talk only to my daughter, for the family clown is invited: he will keep up the conversation-you may be silent. Good morning, Doctor."

The Doctor again stretched out his hand to him. Mr. Hummel shook it, grumbling all the while. When he was again alone in his office the melody of the old Dessauer again sounded in the narrow room, now brisk and hearty. Then, soon after, Mr. Hummel broke forth with the second of the two airs-"the Dear Violet" – to which he had recourse when in an unconstrained humor. At last he mixed up the drumming of the Dessauer with "the Dear Violet" in an artistic medley. The book-keeper, who knew that this pot pourri betokened a state of the highest spring warmth, popped his face, smiling respectfully, into the office.

"You may come to dinner to-day," said Mr. Hummel, graciously.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
OLD ACQUAINTANCES

Since the conversation upon the Roman emperors, the Sovereign had withdrawn for a few days from his Court. He was ill. His nervous prostration, as the physicians declared, was the usual consequence of a cold. Only a few privileged persons-among them Master Knips-had access to him during this time, and they had no cause to rejoice in their confidential position, for it was difficult to deal with the princely invalid.

To-day the Sovereign was sitting in his study; before him stood an old official, with a weazen face, reporting the daily occurrences of the capital, opinions which were expressed in public places concerning the Sovereign and his illustrious house, small scandalous family anecdotes, also observations that had been made in the palace to which the Princess had gone within the last few days, and the persons she had seen there. Prince Victor paid daily visits to the Baroness Hallstein, and passed the evening with the officers of his former regiment; he had returned unexpectedly that morning.

"How do things go on in the Pavilion?" asked the Sovereign.

"According to the account of the lackey, there have been no visitors from the city, nor any letters; everything as usual in the afternoon. When the strangers were sitting in front of the door, the lady had spoken of a journey to Switzerland, but her husband replied that there could be no thought of it until he had finished his business. Then there had been an uncomfortable silence. In the evening both attended the theatre."

The Sovereign nodded, and dismissed the official. As he sat alone, he pushed his chair against the wall, and listened to the sound of a small bell which, from the further end of the room, was scarcely audible; he hastily opened the door of a niche in the wall, and took out the letters which a confidential secretary had sent up through a tube from the lower story. There were various handwritings: he passed quickly through the contents. At last he held a bundle of children's letters in his hand. Again he laughed. "So the great ball has burst already." His countenance became serious. "A genuine peasant, he has no sense for the honor of having the top-boots of a prince among his fields." He took another letter. "The Hereditary Prince to his sister. It is the first letter of the pious John Patmos, saying nothing, as if it had been written for me. That may possibly be so. The contents are scanty and cold. He expresses the wish that his sister also may pass a pleasant time in the country. We wish the same," he continued, with good humor; "she may pluck flowers and talk with scholars about the virtues of Roman ladies. This wish shall be fulfilled by all parties." He laid the letters back in the niche, and pressed a spring in the floor with his foot; there was a slight rustling in the wall, and the packet glided down.

The Sovereign raised himself from his chair and walked about the room.

"My thoughts hover restlessly about this man. I have received him with complaisance; I have even treated his insane hopes with the greatest consideration, and yet this unpractical dreamer mocks at me. Why did he make this insidious attack on me? He did it with the malicious penetration of a diseased person, who knows better than a sound one what is deficient in another. His prating was half vague reflection and half the silly cunning of a fool who also carries about him a worm in his brain. It does not matter: we know one another, as the Augur knew his colleagues. Between us a family hatred burns, such as can only exist between relations-an enduring, thorough hatred, which conceals itself beneath smiles and polite bows. Trick for trick, my Roman cousin. You seek a manuscript which lies concealed with me, but I something else, which you would withhold from me."

He sank back in his chair, and looked timidly towards the door; then put his hand into a pile of books, and drew out a translation of Tacitus. He tapped the book with his finger.

"He who wrote this was also diseased. He spied incessantly into the souls of his masters; their pictures so filled his fancy, that the Roman people and the millions of other men appeared unimportant to him: he suspected every step of his rulers, yet neither he nor his generation could do without them. He gazed at them as on suns, the eclipse of which he investigated, and which reflected their light on him, the little planet. He began to doubt the wisdom of the order of things; and that to every human mind is the beginning of the end. But he had wit enough to see that his masters became diseased through the miserable meanness of those like himself, and his best policy was that of the old High Steward, to bear all with a silent obeisance."

He opened the leaves.

"Only one, whom he has included in his book," he began again, "was a man, whom it moves one to read about. This was the gloomy majesty of Tiberius: he knew the rabble, and despised them, till the miserable slaves at last placed him among the madmen. Do you know, Professor Tacitus, why the great Emperor became a weak fool? No one knows it-no one on earth but me, and those like me. He went mad because he could not cease to be a man of feeling. He despised many and hated many, and yet he could not do without the childish feeling of loving and trusting. A common youth, who had once shown him personal devotion, caught hold of this fancy of his earthly life, and dragged the powerful mind down with him into the dirt. A miserable weakness of heart converted the stern politician of Imperial Rome into a fool. The weak feelings that rise up in lonely hours are the undoing of us all; indestructible is this longing for a pure heart and a true spirit-undying the seeking after the ideal condition of man, which is described by the poet and believed in by the pedant." He sighed deeply; his head sank on the table between his hands.

There was a slight sound at the door. The Sovereign started. The servant announced-"The Grand Marshal von Bergau." The Grand Marshal entered.

"The Princess inquired at what hour your Highness will take leave of her."

"Take leave?" asked the Sovereign, reflecting. "Why?"

"Your Highness has been pleased to order that the Princess shall this morning go to her summer castle for a few days."

"It is true," replied the Sovereign. "I am well today, dear Bergau, and will breakfast with the Princess. Will it be agreeable to you to accompany her?" he asked, kindly.

"I am very grateful to my gracious master for this favor," replied the Grand Marshal, honestly.

"What lady has the Princess chosen as her attendant?"

"As your Highness has given her the choice, she has decided upon Lady Gottlinde."

"I agree to that," said the Sovereign graciously. "The good Lady Gottlinde may be invited to breakfast, and you yourself may come also, that I may see you all once more about me before the journey. I have one more thing to say. Mr. Werner will follow you; he wishes to examine the rooms and chests of the castle for his scientific purposes. Render him assistance in every way, and show him the greatest attention. I have also a confidential commission for you."

The Grand Marshal made a piteous face, which plainly indicated a protest.

"I wish to win for us this distinguished man," continued the Sovereign. "Sound him as to what place or distinction would be acceptable to him. I wish you to observe that I am most anxious to keep him."

The Grand Marshal, much discomposed, answered:

"I assure your Highness, with the greatest respect, that I know how to value your confidence, yet this commission fills me with consternation; for it exposes me to the danger of exciting the displeasure of my gracious master. I have had opportunities of remarking that one cannot count upon gratitude from these people."

 

"You must not offer him anything; only endeavor to make him express some wish," replied the Sovereign dryly.

"But if this wish should exceed the bounds of moderation?" asked the Marshal hesitatingly.

"Take care not to object to it; leave it to me to decide whether I consider it immoderate. Send me a report immediately."

The Sovereign gave the signal of dismissal; watched sharply his bow and departure, and looked after the departing gentleman and gravely shook his head.

"He is not old, and yet the curse has overtaken him; he becomes grotesque. Here is another riddle of human nature for you learned gentlemen: the person who has every hour to control his countenance and manner, to whom the most rigid tact and correct forms are necessary in his daily intercourse, should, just when he becomes older, lose this best acquisition of his life, and become troublesome by his weak chattering and unrestrained egotism. You know how to answer. Emperor Tiberius, why your service, clever man, gradually made your servants caricatures of your own character? Now they have revenged themselves on you; it is all right. There is a desperate rationality in the links of the world. O misery, misery, that we should both have so little cause to rejoice at it!"

He groaned, and again buried his head in his hands.

Shortly after Ilse received the latest letters from home.

"How can the four-leaved clover be lost out of a well closed letter?" she asked her husband. "Luise, on her birthday, found some clover leaves and sent them in her former letter, to bring you good luck. The child is just at the age in which such nonsense gives pleasure. The dried clover was not in her letter, and as she is careless, I scolded her for it in my answer. To-day she assures me that she put them into the envelope the last thing."

"It may have fallen out when you opened the letter," said the Professor consolingly.

"My father is not contented with us," continued Ilse, discomposed; "he does not like it that the Prince has come into the vicinity; he fears distraction in the farm and gossip. Yet why should people gossip? Clara is still half a child, and the prince does not live upon our estate. There is a dark cloud over everything," she said; "the light of the dear sun has ceased to shine. Nothing but disturbances, the Sovereign ill, and our Hereditary Prince vanishes as if swept away by a storm. How could he go away without bidding us good-bye? I cannot set my mind to rest as to that; for we have not deserved it of him, nor of his courtly Chamberlain. I fear he does not go into the country willingly; and he is angry with me, Felix, because I said something about it. No good will come of it, and it makes me heavy at heart."

"If this trouble leaves you any thought for the affairs of other people," began the Professor, gaily, "you must allow me a small share. I think I have found the hidden castle which I have so long sought. I see from this chronicle that in the last century the country seat to which the Princess is going was surrounded by a forest. I hear that in this remote place much old household rubbish is preserved. I feel like a child on the eve of its birthday. I have made known my wishes to fate, and when I think of the hour when the present shall come to me, I feel the same heart-beating expectation which scares away sleep from the boy. It is childish, Ilse," he continued, holding out his hand to his wife, "I know it is; but have patience with me; I have long wearied you with my dreams, but now it will come to an end. The hope indeed will not come to an end, but this is the last place I have any reason to search for it."

"But if it should again happen that you do not find the book?" asked Ilse, sorrowfully, holding his hand.

A gloomy expression came over the Professor's face; he turned around abruptly, and said, harshly:

"Then I shall seek further. If Fritz had but come!"

"Was he to come?" asked Ilse, with surprise.

"I have requested him to do so," replied her husband. "He answered that his father's business and his relations with Laura prevented him. To him also it appears that a crisis is impending; he has suspicions with respect to the specification that I found here, which I consider unfounded."

"Oh, that he were with us!" said Ilse; "I long for a friendly face, like one who has for many days been traveling through a desert wilderness."

The Professor pointed towards the window.

"This wilderness looks tolerably humanized, and a visitor, such as you desire, seems already coming up to the house."

Ilse heard the rumble of wheels coming along the gravel of the castle road. A carriage stopped before the Pavilion, and the country coachman cracked his whip. The servants hastened to the door; Gabriel opened the carriage door; a little lady descended, gave a parcel to the lackey and a bandbox to Gabriel, and called out to the coachman to inquire about putting up the horses. She hastily ascended the steps, and, as she did so, gazed on the paintings and carved scrolls.

"This is a great pleasure, Mrs. Rollmaus," exclaimed Ilse, delighted, meeting her at the door.

The Professor hastened to the stranger and offered her his arm.

"My dear Ilse," cried the little lady; "revered and highly honored Professor, here I am. As Rollmaus has been charged with the superintendence of an estate in the neighborhood, in trust for a nephew, and as he has had to travel into this country to put things in order, and will stop only a short time, I thought I would take the pleasure of paying you a visit. Your father, brothers, and sisters wish to be remembered to you. Clara is growing up the very image of you."

"Come in, come in," said Ilse; "you yourself are the best greeting from home."

Mrs. Rollmaus stopped at the door.

"Only a moment," she said, pointing to the bandbox.

"You come to old friends."

"You must allow me however, that I may not disgrace this princely house."

Mrs. Rollmaus was taken into an adjoining room, the bandbox opened, and, after the best cap was put on, as well as white collar and cuffs, the learned lady floated into the sitting-room with Ilse.

"Magnificent," she exclaimed, looking with admiration at the ceiling, where the god of love held out to her his bunches of poppies. "One can see at once by the cross-bow that it is a Cupid; one frequently sees them on gingerbread figures, where they stand between two burning hearts. Dear Professor, the pleasure of meeting again, and in such surroundings, is truly very great. I have long looked forward with pleasure to this hour, when I could express to you my thanks for the last book you sent me, in which I have gotten as far as the Reformation. Rollmaus would gladly have come with me, but he has business to attend to in the distillery on account of the old boiler, which must be removed."

During this speech the eye of Mrs. Rollmaus wandered inquisitively into every corner of the room.

"Who would have thought, dear Ilse, that you and the Professor would have come into friendly relations with our princely personages? I must confess to you that I have already looked about me in driving here for the princely court-yard, which, however, probably lies on the other side, as I see only gardens here."

"There are no offices at the castle," explained Ilse, "only the stable and the large kitchen have remained."

"They say there are six cooks," rejoined Mrs. Rollmaus, "who are all great head-cooks; although I do not know for what other part of the human body they could be cooking. But the originalities of a Court are very great, – amongst which are the silver-cleaners, who, I verily believe, do not do their duty; at least, the small coin in our country is very dirty, and a great scouring day would be necessary for them. They say that the young Prince has now gone to the Chief Forester's lodge. Our Chief Forester is fully occupied; he grumbles over this royal quartering, and has ordered himself a new uniform."