Chapter XII The Departure From the Estate
Autumn had come. The trees about the house had assumed their colored dress of decay. White webs hung over the stubble, and the dew drops lay upon them till the wind tore the woven fabrics away and bore them from field and valley into the blue distance. A happy pair went hand in hand about the place. This year the fall of the leaf did not affect the Professor, for a new spring had begun in his life; and his happiness was written in his countenance in characters which might be read by the most unlearned.
Ilse was betrothed. Modestly she bore the invisible crown which, according to the opinion of the household and neighborhood, now encircled her head. There were still hours in which she could scarcely believe in her happiness. When she rose early from her bed, and heard the trailing of the plough, or when she stood in the dairy amidst the clattering of the milk pails, her future appeared like a dream. But in the evening, when she was sitting near her beloved one, listening to his words and conversing on subjects serious and trifling, she would lay her hand gently on his arm in order to assure herself that he belonged to her, and that she was thenceforth to enter into the life in which his spirit moved.
The marriage was to take place before the winter, and before the lectures began at the University. For the Professor had petitioned against a long engagement and the father had yielded.
“I would gladly have kept Ilse with me over the winter. Clara must assume a portion of her duties, and the guidance of her sister would have been a great help to her. But it is better for you that it should be otherwise. You, my son, have sought the hand of my daughter after a short acquaintance, and the sooner Ilse accustoms herself to the life of the city, the better it will be for you both; and I think it would be easier for her in the winter.”
It was a time of happy excitement, and the necessity of providing for the new household brought down the feelings of the betrothed from their state of exaltation to earthly things.
The Professor made a journey to the University. He went first to his friend.
“Wish me joy,” he exclaimed; “have confidence in her and me.”
The Doctor embraced him and never left his side during his stay. He accompanied him in all his shopping expeditions and assisted him in the arrangement of the rooms. Gabriel, who, from the visit of the country gentleman, had anticipated coming events, and who had become doubtful of his own indispensability, felt proud when the Professor said to him:
“Between you and me things are to remain as they were. Do your best to make yourself useful to my wife.”
Then came Mr. Hummel. In the name of the family he extended his congratulations, and of his own accord offered the use of two rooms in his house which he himself did not occupy. But Laura was more anxious than all the rest about the new inmate. She burst forth in verse thus:
“How will she be, of sweet or lofty mien?
Proud, dignified, or charmingly serene?
My heart beats fast and thoughts in chaos seem!
Will fond anticipations prove a dream?”
When the Professor begged of her and her mother to receive his future wife with friendliness and help her in her arrangements, and when he added to Laura that he hoped she would be on a friendly footing with his bride, he did not guess how much happiness he had given that young heart, which felt an unquiet longing to attach itself devotedly to some one. The indefinite descriptions which he gave concerning the character of his intended made a very vague impression which to Laura became a frame in which she daily depicted new faces.
Meanwhile the women were occupied in the old house preparing Ilse’s outfit. The approaching marriage of her sister had transformed Clara into a young lady; she helped and gave good advice, and in everything showed herself clever and practical. Ilse spoke of this in terms of praise one evening to her father and then threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears. The father’s mouth quivered; he did not answer, but he held his daughter close to his heart. It fortunately happened that the last weeks before their separation were full of work and distraction. There was yet much to be done in the household and the father would not permit the betrothed couple to omit a single visit to his acquaintances in the neighborhood.
One of the first was to the family of Rollmaus. Ilse in a special letter had informed Mrs. Rollmaus of her betrothal; and this had created great excitement. Mrs. Rollmaus burst forth into a stream of triumph; but Mr. Rollmaus saddled his horse and rode to Bielstein, but not to the house. He inquired for the Proprietor at the gate of the court-yard and rode to meet him in the field. There he took him aside and began his congratulations with this short question:
“What is he worth?”
The question was answered numerically, and he seemed satisfied. For he turned his horse round, trotted up to the house and extended his congratulations to Ilse and her betrothed, whom he now looked upon as her equal, and this time he pressingly repeated his invitation to call. After his return, he said to his wife:
“I could have wished a better match for Ilse, but the man is not so bad after all.”
“Rollmaus,” replied the wife, “I hope you will behave properly on this occasion.”
“What do you mean?” asked the Crown Inspector.
“You must propose the health of the betrothed couple at dinner, when they come.”
The husband muttered a suppressed growl. “But I’ll have none of your oratorical trash and sentiment; I will have nothing to do with that.”
“The eloquence must be in the introduction,” said Mrs. Rollmaus; “and if you will not do it, I will undertake it myself. You may merely propose the health.”
The house of Rollmaus displayed its finest table linen and dinner service for the visit, and Mrs. Rollmaus showed not only a good heart but good cooking. After the first course she clinked her glass and began excitedly:
“Dear Ilse, as Mr. Rollmaus in proposing your health will express himself shortly and laconically, I take the occasion to mention beforehand that as old friends of your parents, we wish you joy from the bottom of our hearts. And as we have lived together as good neighbors, sympathizing both in misfortune and when there was an agreeable addition to the family, and as we have often rendered each other mutual assistance in household matters, it is very sad for us to think that you are going to leave our country. Yet we rejoice that you are going to a city where intellect and higher aims are appreciated. I will not be voluminous, therefore I beg of you both to remember us with true friendship.”
She put her handkerchief to her eyes and Mr. Rollmaus expressed the family feeling generally, in four words:
“Health to the couple.”
At departing Mrs. Rollmaus wept a little and begged the Proprietor to permit them to be at the marriage, though no other guests were to be present.
There was to be still another distraction. The Sovereign wished to stop on the way to his hunting castle and take breakfast in the old house.
“It is well. Ilse, that you are with us,” said her father.
“But one does not know at all what such a person is accustomed to,” rejoined Ilse, between pleasure and anxiety.
“His own cook will come over from the Forester’s house; he will help. Only see to it that he finds something in the kitchen.”
It was a day of busy preparation, and the children, the housekeeper and the workwomen sat among heaps of branches and autumn flowers, twining wreaths and garlands.
“Spare nothing,” said Ilse to the old gardener; “he is the beloved father of our country. We, his children, bring him our flowers as a tribute.”
Hans, with the help of the Professor, arranged immense emblems and monograms of dahlias.
The evening before the hunt the purveyor and cook, with their attendants, arrived. The purveyor begged leave to set the table in the garden. “The Sovereign will be accompanied by the necessary servants; the rest of the waiting may be done by the waiting-maids of the house. Country customs please his Highness.”
On the morning of the chase the Proprietor rode in his best clothes to Rossau to receive the Sovereign, and the children thronged round the windows of the upper story, spying along the highway like bandits. Shortly before midday the carriage came up the hill and stopped at the door of the house. The Proprietor and Forester, who were riding on each side of the royal carriage, dismounted. The Sovereign descended with his suite, greeting them as he crossed the threshold. He was of advanced age and middle height; had a small delicate face, from which could be seen that in youth he had been considered a handsome man, with two intelligent eyes, beneath which were many small wrinkles. Ilse entered the hall and the Proprietor introduced his daughter in his simple way. The Sovereign greeted Ilse graciously with a few sentences and favored the Professor, who was presented to him as bridegroom of the daughter, with some attention; whereupon the Professor was invited by the master of the hounds to join the party at breakfast. The Sovereign stepped into the garden directly, praised the house and the landscape and recollected having been here with his father as a boy of fourteen.
Breakfast passed off admirably. The Sovereign asked questions of the Proprietor, that evinced a great interest in the condition of the country. When they arose from the table, he approached the Professor, asked various particular questions about the University, and knew the names of several of his colleagues. The answers and general demeanor of the Scholar induced him to prolong the conversation. He told him that he himself was somewhat of a collector. He had brought ancient coins and other antiques from Italy and any increase in his collection gave him much pleasure. And he was pleased to find that the Professor was already acquainted with several of the more important ones.
When the Sovereign, in conclusion, asked the Professor, whether he belonged to this country, Felix answered that accident had brought him there. It suddenly occurred to him that this was an opportunity, which might never recur, of making known to the highest power in the country the fate of the lost manuscript, and thereby, perhaps, gaining an order for further research in the residence. He began his account. The Sovereign listened with evident excitement. While cross-questioning him about it, he drew him further from the company and seemed so entirely engrossed in the affair as to forget the hunting. The master of the hounds, at least, looked at his watch often and spoke to the Proprietor of the interest, which the Sovereign seemed to take in his son-in-law. At last his Highness closed the conversation:—
“I thank you for your communication. I value the confidence which you have shown me. If I can be of any use to you in this matter apply directly to me; and should you happen to come into my neighborhood, let me know. It would give me pleasure to see you again.”
When the Sovereign passed through the hall to the carriage he stopped and looked round. The master of the hounds gave the Proprietor a hint. Ilse was called and again made her obeisance, and the Sovereign in a few words thanked her for her hospitable reception. Before the carriage had disappeared from the farm-buildings the Sovereign again looked back to the house, and this civility was fully appreciated.
“He turned quite round,” said one of the laborer’s wives, who had placed herself with the working people near the evergreen arch by the barns.
All were contented and rejoiced in the graciousness and civility which had been given and received in good part. Ilse praised the Sovereign’s attendants, who had made everything so easy; and the judicious questions of the ruler had pleased the Professor much. When the Proprietor returned in the evening, he related how well the chase had gone off, and that the Sovereign had spoken most kindly to him and had wished him joy of his son-in-law before everybody.
The last day that the maiden was to pass in her father’s house came. She went with her sister Clara down to the village, stood by the window of the poor Lazarus, stopped at every house and committed the poor and sick to the care of her sister. Then she sat a long time with the Pastor in his study. The old man held his dear child by the hand and would not let her go. On departing, he gave her the old Bible which his wife had used.
“I meant to take it with me to my last abode,” he said, “but it will be better preserved in your hands.”
When Ilse returned she seated herself in her room and the maids and workwomen of the house entered one after another. She took leave of each of them separately and spoke to them once more of what each had most at heart, gave comfort and good advice, and a small keepsake from her little store. In the evening she sat between her father and lover. The tutor had taught the children some verses; Clara brought the bridal wreath, and the little brother appeared as a guardian angel; but when he began his speech he burst out sobbing, concealed his head in Ilse’s lap and would not be comforted.
When at bed-time they had all left. Ilse for the last time sat in her chair in the sitting room. When her father prepared to retire, she handed him a candle. The father put it down and paced up and down without speaking. At last he began:
“Your room, Ilse, shall remain unchanged. Should you return to us you shall find it as you left it. No one can replace you here. No one can be what you have been to your brothers, sisters, and to your father. I give you up with sorrow to enter upon a life which is unknown to us both. Good night, my beloved child. Heaven’s blessing upon you. God guard your noble heart. Be brave. Ilse, for life is full of trials.”
He drew her to him and she wept quietly on his breast.
The following day the morning sun shone through the windows of the old wooden church upon the place before the altar. Again Ilse’s head was surrounded by a heavenly radiance and the countenance of the man into whose hand the old pastor laid that of his favorite beamed with happiness. The children of the house and the workwomen of the farm strewed flowers. Ilse, with her wreath and veil, stepped over the last flowers of the garden, looking heavenward. From the arms of her father and sisters, amid the loudly expressed blessings of Mrs. Rollmaus and the gently-murmured prayer of the old Pastor, her husband helped her into the carriage. Another hurrah from the people, one more glance at the old home, and Ilse pressed the hand of her husband and clung closely to him.