Part 13 (2/2)
”Where have you been so long?” asked the grandmother, in a low voice.
”I hardly know, myself.”
”Walpurga must be in bed by this time.”
”Very likely; they can travel fast, four-in-hand.”
”Do you hear the cow lowing? The poor beast isn't used to be alone and, this very evening, the butcher drove her calf by the stable. It's awful to hear her moan. Do go and look after her.”
Hansei went out to the stable, and the cow became perfectly quiet. He walked away, and she began lowing again. He returned and spoke to her kindly. As long as he talked to her and kept his hand upon her back, she was quiet; but as soon as he left her, she would low more piteously than before. In despair, he was constantly going back and forth, between the room and the stable. He returned several times, gave her some fodder, and then sat down on a bundle of hay. At last the cow lay down and slept, and Hansei, overcome with fatigue, also fell asleep.
Indeed, few had ever gone through so much in one day as our poor Hansei had.
CHAPTER XII.
When Walpurga awoke next morning, she fancied herself at home, and looked at the strange surroundings as if it were all a dream that would not vanish at her bidding. She gradually realized what had happened.
Closing her eyes again, she said her prayers and then boldly looked about her; the same sun that shone on the cottage by the lake, shone on the palace, too.
Full of fresh courage, she arose.
She lay at the window for a long while, looking at the scene so strange to her.
She saw nothing of the bustling city. The palace square, encircled by thick, bushy orange-trees, was far removed from the noise of the streets. At the palace gate, two soldiers, with their muskets at rest, were seen marching up and down.
But Walpurga's thoughts wandered homeward. In her mind's eye, she saw the cottage by the lake and all within its walls. In fancy, she heard the crackling of the wood with which her mother kindled the fire, and saw the lamp which she took from the kitchen-shelf. We have milk in the house, for we've got a cow. Mother will be glad to go milking again.
I'm sure they never light a fire at home without thinking of me. And the chattering starlings, up in the cherry-tree, are saying:
”Our goodwife is gone; a cow has taken her place.”
Walpurga smiled and went on thinking to herself: My Hansei's oversleeping himself this morning. If you didn't call him, he'd sleep till noon; he never wakes of himself. She hears her mother calling: ”Get up, Hansei; the sun is burning a hole in your bed!” He gets up and washes his face at the pump, and now she sees them at their meal; the child is fed with good milk. If I'd only taken a good look at the cow!
And now Hansei is getting fodder for it from the innkeeper. If he only doesn't let the rogue cheat him; and Hansei will feel more forlorn than the child; but, thank G.o.d, he has work enough to keep him busy. It's fis.h.i.+ng time, and so he doesn't go into the woods. I see him jump into his boat; what a noise he makes! The oars are plas.h.i.+ng, and away he rows to catch what fish he can.
Walpurga would have gone on picturing to herself her home at noon and at evening. Suddenly, she felt as if she had lost her reason. Absence and death are almost one and the same. You can have no idea of how it will be one hour after your death; you cannot imagine yourself out of the world. Her head swam and, as if startled by an apparition, she turned to Mademoiselle Kramer, and said:
”Let's talk!”
Mademoiselle Kramer required no second hint, and told Walpurga that every one in the palace knew of the queen's having kissed her the night before, and that it would be in all the newspapers of the next day.
”Pshaw!” said Walpurga; whereupon Mademoiselle Kramer declared that, although it made no difference in her case, it was highly improper to answer in that way, and told her, also, that she ought always express herself distinctly and in a respectful manner.
Walpurga looked up and listened, as if waiting for Mademoiselle Kramer to continue and, at last, said: ”My dear father once said almost the very same thing to me; but I was too young to understand it then. All I meant to say was, that the city people must have very little to do, if they can make a fuss about such a matter”--mentally concluding her remarks with another ”pshaw!”
The little prince awoke. Walpurga took him up and speedily put him to sleep, while she sang in a clear voice:
”Ah, blissful is the tender tie That binds me, love, to thee, And swiftly speed the hours by When thou art near to me.”
When she had finished her song, and had placed the child in the cradle, she looked toward the door and beheld the king and Doctor Gunther standing there.
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