Chapter XIV The Reunion
We often seek at a distance what is to be found quite at hand; and so it happened with Balduin’s father, the director of police, Mr. von Winsing, who was searching for his runaway son in remote districts, while the youth was only some miles distant from the capital. A newspaper, which accidentally fell into his hands, made him hastily change his route. This was the notice (already mentioned as being inserted in the public papers) of the detention in prison of the two vagrants, dame Hicup and the woman with the show-box, with an account of the circumstances connected with their seizure. Only a matter of deep interest could have induced the sorrowful father to give up for a time the search of his son, as it was possible he might from what he had read obtain possession of the other child so long lost to him. When he arrived at the small town of Brixen, where the two women were imprisoned, he immediately went to the magistrate and made the following deposition:—
“My dear wife, in the second year of our marriage, presented me with two boys, fine healthy twins, and as like each other as two drops of water. Except by a very small mole on the left cheek of our youngest born, it was almost impossible to distinguish the one from the other. To our great joy they grew in health and strength until they were nine months old, when they were stolen from us in a manner as bold as it was shameless. The grown-up son of the nurse who had charge of the infants was a worthless fellow, and, in consequence of a serious crime he had committed, I was obliged by the duties of my office to have him arrested, and given over for punishment. His mother foolishly imagined that the fate of her son rested with me, and wept and entreated me to set him at liberty. As she failed in obtaining her desire by these means, she meditated a plan which might, as she thought, enable her to attain her object. The letter which she left behind stated that the only way of again receiving the children was to free her son, and to hold her as innocent. These were the only conditions on compliance with which our infants would be restored to us. In addition, the most fearful threats were used if we dared to send persons to find out her place of hiding, or if employed any means whatever for that purpose. We knew too well the unbending character of the woman; and as I had no power to turn aside the course of justice, we feared for the lives of our children. After mature reflection, I resolved to set out myself in search of the woman, and to be very wary and cautious in my proceedings, hoping that if I found her I might get my children by gentle means, or if not, by force. Giving myself no rest either by night or day, it was no wonder if one night I fell asleep in my carriage. But who can describe my astonishment when, at my awaking at daybreak, I saw by the grey light of morning, lying on the empty seat opposite, the youngest of my sons, distinguished by the mole on his left cheek. How he had come there, by whom brought, neither I nor the postilion could tell. So far my search had been fruitless; and it was now necessary, in consequence of this singular circumstance, to return home to my despairing wife. Fifteen long years passed away without our being able to obtain the slightest clue as to what had become of the other child. Permit me then, sir, to have an interview with both prisoners, that I may gain certain information of the life or death of my son. Indeed, I could almost wish to hear of the latter; for if our Balduin, brought up with such care, has caused us so much sorrow, how much worse may not our eldest born have become, falling—as in all probability he would do—into worthless hands.”
“I am happy, my dear sir,” replied the magistrate, “to have it in my power to allay your apprehensions on that point. You would see from the newspapers that the unfeeling dame Hicup, when she had put the one into the post carriage, placed the other in a manger, from which it was taken out by a poor fiddler, called Kummas, who adopted it. From inquiries we directed to be made in the village where the old man lived, the village of Gelenau, it was ascertained, both from the pastor and the schoolmaster, that your son had become a clever and an excellent youth, and that at present he was in the town of Waldau studying music with the master of the band in that place. It is likewise said that his foster-father, old Kummas, lately left the village, in order to go and live in the neighbourhood of his foster-son, to whom he is very much attached.”
The two gentlemen now proceeded to visit the prisoners,—going, in the first instance, to examine the nurse who had stolen them. The moment this woman saw her former master enter the cell she became pale, and turned away her head. As the time for deception, however, was now past, with many tears she confessed what she had done.
“Hannah,” said her master with much emotion, “how happy you might have been in your old age had you remained faithful to your trust; for we never would have seen the nurse of our children want for anything. But tell me, how did your son reward you after he came from the house of correction for the deed you had done for his sake?”
A painful expression passed over the face of the woman at this question; and she answered, in a tone of bitterness, “For my love he misused me, and deserted me.”
“That is always the reward of the wicked,” said the police director, “may it be your only punishment. But why did you leave the children with a stranger, rather than return them to their parents?”
“Hatred and dread of punishment,” replied Hannah. “When I had wandered with them on my back for five days in woods and solitary places, I was unable to carry them any farther, so I determined to free myself of them in a proper way. Besides, I thought that if I were caught and put in prison, I might be the better able to make conditions by refusing to tell the place where I had left them, unless leniently dealt with.”
Dame Hicup, into whose cell they next went, complained bitterly of the hardship of having been so long imprisoned, as she conceived that instead of being punished in this fashion, she deserved a recompense, as she had managed so well with the twins, and had been the means of discovering the real thief. The director of police promised to get her and her blind husband admission into a charitable institution, where they might lead a comfortable life, with the exception of brandy-drinking, as of that liquid they would find none. Mr. von Winsing had now nothing to do but hasten to Waldau, there to seek his son at the house of the stadt-musikus.
Reinhold, the son whom he expected to find there, was still in the capital with his mother, and perfectly restored to health. The Lady von Winsing had written to her husband relating the joyful tidings of having found her eldest-born: but, in consequence of the director’s change of plan, the letter had not reached him. When Madame von Winsing, by a letter from Brixen, learnt what had happened, and where her husband had gone to, she resolved to give him a surprise by meeting him, along with Reinhold, at Waldau; and therefore made preparations for doing so. The chief thing to be done was to purchase a pair of kettle-drums, without which Christlieb declared he dared not face his former master.
Almost at the same hour when Mr. Winsing left Brixen for Waldau, his lady and Christlieb started from the capital for the same town.
Balduin, in the meanwhile, was so far recovered as to be able to walk on to the gallery to breathe the pleasant air of spring.
The stadt-musikus, whose selfishness returned as his fears departed, had this morning plainly told Kummas and Malchen that their presence was no longer necessary, and that they must now look out for some other lodging. He was, however, not a little surprised when Balduin told him that he was not Christlieb, but the son of the police director at the capital. Kummas and Malchen were not so much amazed, for they of late had begun to have their doubts, when they remembered the mole on the left cheek and the fine clothes. They did not regret what they had done from love to the apparent Christlieb; but they were oppressed with anxiety as to what had become of the real one. Without any hint from the town-musician, they had resolved to depart whenever they were assured that Balduin was not their Christlieb; and they immediately prepared for their departure to seek for their dear lost one. In vain Balduin entreated them first to go with him to see his parents, as soon as the doctor thought him fit for the journey; nothing would keep them, no reward induce them to delay. As Malchen was tying up their few poor clothes, she whispered to Kummas, “Although Balduin certainly at first treated us very ill, yet I cannot help liking him, in spite too of his killing the poor starling; for he is so like Christlieb, and I think is far more reasonable than he was.”
“You may be right as to the last part of your speech,” replied the old man; “but not in the first. Master Balduin, with his pale face and sunk eyes, is only like the moon; but my Christlieb, with his rosy cheeks, is like the fiery sun; and even were that not the case, my Christlieb can play on the violin, while this Balduin can only whine.”
The door bell rang, and Balduin’s father stepped in when the servant opened. He seemed panting for breath; wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and then said, “Where is the town-musician? Are the pupils within?”
The maid-servant directed him to the small gallery where Dilling was walking, as well as Balduin. In spite of the paleness and thinness of Balduin (the effect of his illness), the police director instantly recognised his son. But, in order not to alarm him, he remained for a few moments looking at him. When, however, Balduin accidentally turned fully round his face, Mr. Winsing could resist no longer, and, rushing up to him with open arms, he exclaimed, “Yes; there can be no doubt! you are my son Reinhold! behold in me your father, dear child, and embrace me!”
Balduin had sunk on his knees before his deeply affected parent, and said, “Father, forgive me! I have erred and done wrong; but I have been grievously punished for my folly.”
Here the stadt-musikus looked rather embarrassed and fidgetty, while the police director cried out in astonishment, “Are you not”——
“I am Balduin, your unworthy son, and not the gentle Christlieb, or Reinhold, who attracts all hearts,” said the repentant youth.
“But where, then, is the real Christlieb?” asked the gentleman, turning to Mr. Dilling. “Was he not a pupil of yours, and his foster-father a poor village musician?”
“Where he is I know not,” replied the stadt-musikus. “Since the breaking up of the ice he has disappeared, along with my kettle-drums.”
“How dreadful!” exclaimed Mr. von Winsing. “Just at the moment when, after a fifteen years’ separation, I had hoped to embrace my child, to hear that I may have lost him for ever.”
At this moment the servant came and announced that a stranger wished to see Mr. Dilling, who, glad to make his escape, hastened away. Balduin meanwhile related to his father everything that had happened to him, and all he had suffered.
The town-musician was most agreeably surprised when a man laden with two superb kettle-drums, stood before him. “Master Christlieb Fundus sends his respects,” stammered out the man, “and sends you back your drums. Not the old drums, to be sure, for they were lost in the river; but speck and span new ones.—Master Christlieb begs you will excuse their not having been sent sooner; but he has been long very ill.” With these words, the messenger put down the shining drums, with their snow-white leather tops and elegant sticks, which the town musician most joyfully received. His delight was augmented when the door again opened, and Christlieb himself, followed by his mother, walked into the house, and rushed into the arms of old Kummas, whom he encountered ready for his departure.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed the old man, shedding tears of joy, while he pressed his foster-son to his heart; “this is the real Christlieb! Rejoice with me, for I have again found my Fundus!”
“Mother! dearest mother!” sobbed Christlieb, “this is my good foster-father, who took me out of the manger, and carried me in the violincello to his home.”
The high-bred, beautiful lady most heartily embraced the honest countryman, while Christlieb went on to say,—“Father Kummas, this is my mother, the kindest-hearted person in all the world; and there is Malchen,” he continued, still more pleased, drawing the bashful girl forward; “Malchen, the faithful friend, who brought me the cake when I was in the dungeon, and who took care of my starling!”
“And here is your excellent father,” said Madame von Winsing, hastening towards her husband, who had just entered the room. “Oh! my dear husband, what a son have we found in Reinhold!”
His father embraced the latter in a tumult of joy. “Seeing, however, poor Balduin weeping in a corner, who did not presume to mingle with the happy circle, Mr. von Winsing turned towards him and took him by the hand to lead him to his mother.
“Dear wife,” said the director, “this tower is an enchanted place! It makes the sorrowful glad and the wicked good. Our Balduin has lately had some lessons here, which have quite changed him. He is now worthy of your affection.”
Mr. Dilling had been all this time in a fever of anxiety to try his new drums, and now he could resist no longer. Without being asked, he began, by a splendid flourish on them, to play the sublime melody of—
“Now let us all thank God!”
And to this every one present responded with profound feelings of gratitude.
The End