Part 59 (2/2)
”Yes, I understand! You dread the element you have unchained? A peasant was very well, by way of variety, was he not? He loved differently, more ardently, more fiercely than your smooth city gentlemen. The strength and the impetuosity of the untutored man were not too rude when I bore you through the flaming forest, and caught the falling branches which threatened to crush you--then you did not fear me, you did not thrust me back within the limits of your social forms; on the contrary, you rejoiced that the world still contained power and might, and felt yourself a t.i.taness. Why have you suddenly become so weak-nerved, and cannot endure this might--because it has turned against you?”
”No,” said the countess, with a flash of deadly hatred in her fathomless grey eyes: ”Not on that account--but because at that time I believed you to be different from what you really are. Then I believed I beheld a G.o.d, now I perceive that it was a--” She paused.
”Go on--put no constraint on yourself--now you perceive that it was a _peasant_.”
”You just called yourself by that name.”
Freyer stood as though a thunder-bolt had struck him. He seemed to be struggling for breath. ”Yes,” he said at last in a low tone, ”I did call myself by that name, but--_you_ should not have done so--_not you_!” He grasped the back of a chair to steady himself.
”It is your own fault,” said the countess, coldly. ”But--will you not sit down? We have only a few words to say to each other. You have in this moment stripped off the mask of Christus and torn the last illusion from my heart. I can no longer see in the person who stood before me so disfigured by fury the image of the Redeemer.”
”Was not the Christ also angry, when He saw the moneychangers in the temple? And you, you bartered the most sacred treasures of your heart and mine for paltry-pelf and useless baubles--but I must not be angry!
Scarcely a year ago, by the bedside of our sick child, you reproached me with being unable to cease playing the Christ--now--I have not kept up the part! But it does not matter, whatever I might be, I should no longer please you, for the _love_ which rendered the peasant a G.o.d is lacking. Yet one thing I must add; if now, after nine years marriage with you, I am still rough and a peasant, the reproach does not fall on me alone. You might have raised, enn.o.bled me, my soul was in your keeping”--tears suddenly filled his eyes: ”Woman, what have you done with my soul?”
He sank into a chair, his strength was exhausted. Madeleine von Wildenau made no reply, the reproach struck home. She had never taken the trouble to develop his powers, to expand his intellectual faculties. After his poetical charm was exhausted--she flung him aside like a book whose contents she had read.
”You knew my history. I had told you that I grew up in the meadow with the horses and had gained the little I knew by my own longing. I would have been deeply grateful, if you had released me from the ban of ignorance and quenched the yearning which those who are half educated always feel for the treasures of culture, of which they know a little, just enough to show them what they lack. But whenever I sought to discuss such subjects with you, you impatiently made me feel my shortcomings, and this shamed and intimidated me. So I constantly deteriorated in my lonely life--grew more savage, instead of more cultivated. Do you know what is the hardest punishment which can be inflicted upon criminals? Solitary confinement. It can be imposed for a short time only, because they go _mad_. Since the child and Josepha died, I have been one of those unfortunates, and you--did not even write me a line, had no word for me! I felt that my mind was gradually becoming darkened! Woman, even if you had power over life and death--you must not murder my soul, you have no right to that--even the law slays the body only, not the soul. And where it imposes the death penalty, it provides that the torture shall be shortened as much as possible. You are more cruel than the law--for you destroy your victim slowly--intellectually and physically.”
”Terrible!” murmured the countess.
”Ay, it is terrible! You worldlings come and entice and sigh and kiss the hem of our robes, as long as the delusion of your excited imagination lasts, and your delusion infects us till we at last believe ourselves that we are G.o.ds--and then you thrust us headlong into the depths. Here you strew the miasma of the mania for greatness and vanity, yonder money and the seeds of avarice--there again you wished to sow your culture, tear us from our ignorance, and but half complete your work. Then you wonder because we become misshapen, sham, artificial creatures, comedians, speculators, misunderstood geniuses--everything in the world except true children of Ammergau!” He wiped his forehead, as if it were bleeding from the scratches of thorns. ”I was a type of my people when, still a simple shepherd boy, I was brought from my herd to act the Christ, when in timid amazement, I suddenly felt stirring within me powers of which I had never dreamed--and I am so once more in my wretchedness, my mental conflicts, my marred life. I shall be so at last in my defeat or victory--as G.o.d is gracious to me. And since everything has deserted me--since I saw Josepha, the last thing left me of Ammergau, lying in her coffin--since then it has seemed as if from her grave, and that of all my happiness, my home, my betrayed, abandoned home, once more rose before me, and I felt a strange yearning for the soil to which I have a right, the earth where I belong. Ah, only when the outside world abandons us do we know what home is! Unfortunately I forgot it long enough, while I believed that you loved and needed me. Now that I know that you no longer care for me--the matter is very different! Like a true peasant, I believed that I had only duties, no rights, but in my loneliness I have pondered over many things, and so at last perceived that you, too, had duties and expected more from me than I can honorably endure! That I bore it _so long_ gave you a right to despise me, for the husband who sits angrily in a corner and sees his wife daily betray, deny, and mock him--deserves no better fate. So I have come to ask what you intend and to tell you my resolve.”
”What do you desire?”
”That you will go with me to Ammergau, that you will cast aside the wealth, distinction, and splendor which I was not permitted to share with you, and in exchange accept with me my scanty earnings, my simplicity, my honest, plebeian name. For, poor and humble as I am, I am not so contemptible in the eyes of Him, who bestowed upon me the dignity and honor of personating His divine Son, that you need feel ashamed to be my wife in the true Christian meaning.”
The countess uttered a sigh of relief. ”You antic.i.p.ate me,” she answered, blus.h.i.+ng. ”I see that you feel the untenableness of our relation. Your ultimatum is a proof that you will have strength to do what is inevitable, and I have delayed so long only from consideration for you. For--you know as well as I that I could never a.s.sent to your demand. It will be a sacred duty, so long as you live, to see that you want for nothing, but we must _part_.”
Freyer turned pale. ”Part? We must part--for ever?”
”Yes.”
”Merciful Heaven--is nothing sacred to you, not even the bond of marriage?”
”You know that I am a Rationalist, and do not believe in dogmas; as such I hold that every marriage can be dissolved whenever the moral conditions under which it was formed prove false. Unfortunately this is the case with us. You did not learn to accommodate yourself to the circ.u.mstances, and you never will--the conflict has increased till it is unendurable, we cannot understand each other, so our marriage-bond is spiritually sundered. Why should we maintain its outward semblance?
I have lost through you nine years of my life, sacrificed to you the duties imposed by my rank, by renouncing marriage with a man of equal station. Matters have now progressed so far that I shall be ruined if you do not release me! Will you nevertheless cross my path and thrust yourself into my sphere?”
”Oh G.o.d--this too!” cried Freyer in the deepest anguish. ”When have I thrust myself into your sphere? How, where, have I crossed your path?
During the whole period of my marriage I have lived alone on the solitary mountain peak as your servant. Have I boasted of my position as your husband? I waited patiently until every few weeks, and later, every few months, you came to me. I disdained all the gifts of your lavish generosity, it was my pride to work for you in return for the morsel of food I ate. I asked nothing from your wealth, your position, took no heed, like others, of the splendor of your establishment. I wanted nothing from you save the immortal part. I was the poorest, the most insignificant of all your servants! My sole possession was your love, and that I was forced to conceal from every inquisitive eye, like a theft, in order to avoid the scorn of my fellow-citizens and all who could not understand the relation in which I stood to you. But this disgrace also I bore in silence, when a word would have vindicated me--bore it, that I might not drag you down from your brilliant position to mine--and you call that thrusting myself into your sphere?
I will grant that I gradually became morose and embittered and by my ill-temper and reproaches deterred you more and more from coming, but I am only human and was forced to bear things beyond human endurance. The intention was good, though the execution might have been faulty. I lost your love--I lost my child--I lost my faithful companion, Josepha, yet I bore all in silence! I saw you revelling in the whirl of fas.h.i.+onable society, saw you admired by others and forget me, but I bore it--because I loved you a thousand times better than myself and did not wish to cause you pain. I often thought of secretly vanis.h.i.+ng from your life, like a shadow which did not belong there. But the inviolability of the marriage-bond held me, and I wished to try once more, by the power of the vow you swore at the altar, to lead you back to your duty, for I cannot dissolve the sacrament which unites us, and which you voluntarily accepted with me. If it does not bind _you_--it still binds _me_! I am your husband, and shall remain so; if _you_ break the bond you must answer for it to G.o.d; as for me, I shall keep it--unto death!”
”That would be a needless sacrifice, which neither church nor state would require. I will not release myself and leave you bound. You argue from a mistaken belief that we were legally married--it is time to explain the error, both on your account and mine. You speak of a vow which I made you before the altar, pray remember that we have never stood before one.”
”Never?” muttered Freyer, and the vein on his forehead swelled with anger.
”Was the breakfast-table of the Prankenberg pastor an altar?”
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