There came a confirmation of this view, which furnished food for thought for the rest of Gabriel's life; for when, in the following autumn, he again went in company with his master and mistress to visit the Manorhouse of Bielstein, directly upon his arrival he begged permission to have an afternoon's holiday, and, as he often did now, walked alone with his thoughts. He went in the wood, far past the ranger's lodge, amongst large mossy beech-trees, ferns, and bilberries. It was evening, and a grey twilight overtook the wanderer; he was uncertain of his direction, and, somewhat uneasy, sought the road to the house. Thunder rolled in the distance, and sometimes a bright flash of lightning passed over the heavens, and for a moment lighted up the trunks of the trees and the mossy ground. Amid a bright flash he saw himself suddenly on a cross-road; he started back, for a few steps from him a great dark figure was moving across the path, with a broad-brimmed felt hat on his head and a weapon on his shoulder; it glided by noiselessly and without greeting. Gabriel stood astonished; again a flash, and along the same road ran two dogs, a black and a red cur, with huge heads and bristly hair: suddenly the red one stopped and turned towards Gabriel, who saw at the back of the dog a tuft which it wagged. The next moment there was profound darkness, and Gabriel heard at his feet a slight whimpering, and it appeared to him as if something licked his boot. Another slight noise, and then all was still.
The people on the estate maintain that it was a poacher, or the great deer-stealer from the other side of the frontier; but Gabriel knew who the night-hunter was, and what the dog was. He who had before sent the dog to Hummel's house, without money and without name, had also called him away. The hound now barked again in the night, when the storm blew like a hunting-horn, when the clouds flew under the moon, and the trees bent their heads, groaning, to the earth. Then he ran over the hills from Rossau, through the grounds of Bielstein; he howled, and the moon laughed mockingly down on the place in which Tobias Bachhuber had deposited his treasures, and among them the cover of the lost manuscript.
But if no observer could be in doubt as to the fate of the dog, far more uncertain is the judgment of the present day concerning another figure which hovers about the grotto.
What can thy fate be, unfortunate Brother Tobias Bachhuber? Thy conduct towards the manuscript we have been seeking transcends everything one could have expected of a Tobias. It is much to be feared that thy disregard of the highest interests of mankind may have injured thy social position in the other world. Grievous doubts arise, Bachhuber, as to thy heavenly happiness: for the wrong that thou hast done to us would have drawn tears from an angel. To us mortals it is impossible to think of thee with the confidence which thy true-hearted words would impress upon us: hæc omnia deposui, – I have deposited all this. That was an untruth, Bachhuber, and the wounds of deceived confidence will always bleed afresh.
Answer my question, Tobias-what views didst thou hold of the unity of the human race? of the bonds of union binding the souls of men of past ages with the souls of men of the present? or of that stupendous net-work, humanity, in which thou wert a mesh? Thy views were pitiable, indeed. Thou didst stuff the great manuscript, the hope of our century, into a bag and thou didst rip out the text when thou foundest the bag too full, and didst carefully preserve the covers for later generations! For shame, thrice for shame!
And yet, withal, thou didst ever hover restlessly about the cave of the forest, and since Swedish times didst bustle about unceasingly in the rooms of the old house!
Why didst thou do that, Tobias, silly monk? Is't possible that thou hadst something in store, that thou wast guarding something, for the happiness of those who came after thee, that thou wert, after all, laboring for the unity of mankind that we said thou hadst no conception of?
Yes, a treasure was found. It did not have the appearance that our scholars thought it would, when their glance first rested on the faded letters of thy record. The treasure that both the scholars found, had clenched fists, and dimpled cheeks, and sweet, bright eyes. Their treasure came to them alive, nor was it of the silent kind. Bachhuber, can it be that thou hast frivolously transcended the rules of thy order? Was it thou that set down this treasure in the 'dry hollow place' commonly called a cradle? in the cradles of two homes?
To-day there is a great christening at the Professor's house-a double one. The Professor's son is called Felix, and the Doctor's young daughter Cornelia. Almost at the same time the children resolved to narrow the space of the over-crowded world by their appearance. The sponsors of the boy are Professor Raschke and Mrs. Struvelius; the sponsors of the girl are Professor Struvelius and Mrs. Raschke; but Mr. Hummel is godfather for both, stands in the middle and swings first one, and then the other godchild.
"I am delighted that yours is a boy," he said, to the Professor; "he will be fair and jolly. For womankind is rapidly getting the upper hand, and will soon become too powerful for us; we must strengthen ourselves by an increase, otherwise a complete revolution will take place. I am delighted that yours is a girl," he said, to his daughter; "the creature is dark and bristly; it will be no Hahn, but a Hummel."
The christening is over, and Professor Raschke raises his glass.
"There are two new human souls in the kingdom of books, two more scholars' children in our blustering, curious, pedantic, and whimsical community. You children will take your first riding-lessons on your fathers' folios; you will make your first helmet and your first dress from your fathers' proof-sheets: you will regard, earlier than others, with secret terror the books that surround your rosy youth. But we hope that you too will help preserve for a future generation the proud and lofty spirit with which your fathers have dedicated their lives to science, to thought, and to creative activity. You too, be you man or woman, must become the faithful guardians of the ideals of our people. You will find a national spirit that takes a stronger flight and makes higher demands on its intellectual leaders. As we in the present, so you in the future, will often be accorded a smile. But see to it that it be kindly. And see to it that the office that has come to you from your fathers, remain worthy of the people. And see to it that you too shall acquit yourselves as steadfast and honest workers in the fields of Science-true to your faith in the good genius of this our life."
Raschke spoke: and waved his glass.
"Pray, Professor Raschke!" exclaimed Mrs. Struvelius; "you have my glass. My gloves are in it. Do not drink them, I beseech you!"
"True enough," said Raschke, apologetically; and he poured with measured deliberation the wine from the flask on the gloves, to join with great appreciation in the toast he had offered.
But in the dimly, lighted corner, by the book-case, whereon the tiny record of our loved Brother lay, appeared the humble figure of Bachhuber, – Tobias Bachhuber, observed by no one-in the resemblance of a nurse. He greeted, and graciously bowed his thanks.
When the friends had departed. Ilse sat on the sofa, the child before her in her lap. Felix knelt at her side, and both looked down upon the young life between them.
"It is so small, Felix," said Ilse; "and yet all that was and all that is, does not make the mother so happy as the soft beating of the little heart in its breast."
"Restlessly the thinking mind struggles after the eternal," exclaimed the Scholar; "but he who holds wife and child to his heart, feels forevermore united in holy peace with the high power of life."
The cradle rocked, as if moved by spirit hands. Thus does the treasure look, blessed Bachhuber, that thy active hand has helped bestow upon a future race. Thou hast not acted well by us. Thou hast done us wrong. But when we think how studiously active thou wast, in the old manor-house and elsewhere, to perform, to the glory of coming generations, the kindly offices of a match-maker, we cannot be angry with thee on this solemn, festive occasion. All in all, we must say thou wert an unfortunate, ill-starred fellow, and hast been the cause of much trouble. But thy heart was kind. And after all, Tobias, thou hast been taken up into heaven-with a question-mark it is true: for thou shalt ever wear on the back of thy celestial cowl a tag of Satan's making-a mark for all future time of thy dealings with the lost manuscript of Tacitus.