Part 8 (1/2)

”They may have,” thus he was thinking In his consequential cat-pride, ”Right good hearts, and may possess too At the bottom some good feeling, But 'tis polish that is wanting; A fine culture and high breeding, I miss sorely in these vulgar Natives of this forest-city.

And a cat who won his knight spurs In fair Paris, and who often In the quarter of Montfaucon Has enjoyed a racy rat-hunt, Misses in this little town here All that is to him congenial, Any intercourse with equals.”

Isolated, therefore, but still Ever dignified and solemn Lived he in this lonely castle.

Graceful through the halls he glided, Most melodious was his purring; And in fits of pa.s.sion even, When he curved his back in anger, And his hair stood bristling backward, Never did he fail to mingle Dignity with graceful bearing.

But when over roof and gable Up he softly clambered, starting On a hunting expedition.

Then mysteriously by moonlight His green eyes like emeralds glistened; Then, indeed, he looked imposing This majestic Hiddigeigei.

Near his cat sat the old Baron.

In his eyes were often flashes, Now like lightning--then more softened Like the mellow rays of sunset, As he thought of bygone times.

To old age belongs the solace Of recalling days of yore.

Thus the aged ne'er are lonely.

The dear shades are floating round them, Of the dead, in quaint old garments, Gorgeous once, now sadly faded.

But fond memory blots decay out, And the skulls once more with beauty Are arrayed in youthful freshness.

Then they talk of days long vanished, And the aged heart is beating, And the fist oft clinches tightly.

As he pa.s.ses by her turret, Once again she smiling greets him; Once again resound the trumpets, And the fiery charger bears him Neighing to the throng of battle.

So the Baron with good humour Of the Past review was holding-- And, when oft he stretched his hand out, Suddenly grasped at his goblet, And a deep long draught then swallowed: Probably a dear and lovely Vision rose up bright before him.

Oft it seemed as if his memory Clung to things which gave less pleasure; For sometimes, without a reason, Down there came on Hiddigeigei's Back a kick with cruel rudeness.

And the cat thought it more prudent Then his resting-place to alter.

Now into the hall stepped lightly The old Baron's lovely daughter Margaretta,--and her father Nodded kindly as she entered.

Hiddigeigei's suffering face too Showed delight as cats express it.

She had changed her festal white robe For a garment of black velvet.

On her long and golden tresses, A black cap sat most coquettish, 'Neath which her blue eyes were smiling With a matron-like expression; To the girdle was attached the Bunch of keys and leather-pocket, German housewife's badge of honour.

And she kissed the Baron's forehead, Saying: ”Dear papa, don't blame me, If to-day I kept you waiting.

The old Lady Abbess yonder In the convent did detain me, Told me many things of import, Wisely of old age discoursing, And of Time, the great destroyer.

The Commander too of Beuggen Said such sweet things, just as if they Came right from the comfit-maker.

I was glad, when I could leave them.

For your lords.h.i.+p's further pleasure Here I am, all due attention.

I am ready, from your favourite Theuerdank to read aloud now; For, I know, you like the rougher Tales of hunting and adventure, Better than the mawkish sweetness Of our present pastoral poets.

”But, O wherefore, dearest father, Are you ever, ever smoking This bad poisonous tobacco?

I am frightened when I see you Sitting there in clouds enveloped As in times of fog the Eggberg.

And I'm sorry for the gilded Picture-frames hung on the walls there, And the pretty snow-white curtains.

Don't you hear their low complaining, How the smoke from your red-clay pipe Makes them faded, gray and rusty?

'Tis most truly a fine country, That America which once the Spanish admiral discovered.

I myself take great delight in The gay plumage of the parrots, And the pink and scarlet corals; Dream at times also of lofty Graceful palm-groves, lonely log-huts, Cocoa-nuts, gigantic flowers, And of mischievous wild monkeys.

I wish almost it were lying In the sea still undiscovered; All because of this tobacco Which has been imported hither.

I can grant a man forgiveness, Who more often than is needed Draws his red wine from the barrel, And could get, if necessary, Reconciled unto his red nose; Never to this horrid smoking.”

Smiling had the Baron listened, Smiling he puffed many smoke-clouds From his clay-pipe, and then answered: ”Dearest child, you women always Thoughtlessly do talk of many Things beyond your comprehension.

It is true that soldiers often Take up many evil habits, Not adapted to the boudoir.

But my daughter finds with smoking Too much fault; for through this habit I have won my wife and household.

And because to-day so many Old campaign tales through my head run, Do not read to-night. Sit down here; I will now relate thee something Of this much-abused tobacco, And of thy blest angel mother.”

Sceptically, Margaretta With her large blue eyes looked at him, Took her work up to embroider, Coloured worsted and her needle, Moved her stool then near the Baron's Arm-chair, and sat down beside him.