Part 20 (2/2)
”G.o.d be praised! the day's over,” said she, when she lay down to rest that evening. ”It was a hard day, but a beautiful one; more beautiful than I'll ever see again.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
(IRMA TO HER FRIEND EMMA.)
”You ask me how I like the great world. The great world, dear Emma, is but a little world, after all. But I can readily understand why they term it 'great.' It has a firmament of its own. Two suns rise daily; I mean their majesties, of course. A gracious glance, or a kind word, from either--and the day is clear and bright. Should they ignore you, the weather is dull and dreary.
”The queen is all feeling, and lives in a transcendental world of her own into which she would fain draw every one. She suggests a 'Jean Paul' born after his time, and is of a tender, clinging disposition, constantly vacillating between the dawn and twilight of emotion, and always avoiding the white light of day. She is exceedingly gracious toward me, but we cannot help feeling that we do not harmonize.
”I know not why it is, but I have of late frequently thought of a saying of my father's: 'Whenever you find yourself on friendly or affectionate terms with any one, imagine how he would seem if he had become your enemy!'
”The thought follows me like a phantom, I know not why. It must be my evil spirit.
”All here regard me as wonderfully nave, simply because I have the courage to think for myself. I have not inherited the spectacles and tight-lacing of tradition. The world seems to follow the fas.h.i.+on, even in clothing the inside of their heads.
”I admire the first lady of the bedchamber most of all. She is the law incarnate, carefully covered with _poudre de riz_. The ladies here ridicule her, but I have only pity for those who are obliged to resort to the use of cosmetics. Ah, you can have no idea, my dear Emma, how stupid and bored some persons are when unable to indulge in scandal.
There are but few who know how to enjoy themselves innocently. But I am forgetting that I intended to tell you about Countess Brinkenstein.
”She read me a lecture on etiquette. What a pity that I cannot give it you, word for word. She said many pretty things; for instance,--that we have as little right to doubt in matters of etiquette as in religion, that, in either case, reasoning always led to heresy and schism, and that one ought to feel happy to have the law ready made, instead of being obliged to frame it.
”Countess Brinkenstein, like Socrates the peripatetic, teaches by example. In the park of the summer palace there is a jutting rock, from the top of which a fine view can be obtained. It is protected on all sides by an iron rail. 'Do you observe, my dear countess,' said this high priest of etiquette to me--for she seems to have conceived quite an affection for your humble servant--'it is because we know there is a railing, that we feel perfectly safe here. If it were not for that, we should become too dizzy to remain. It is just the same with the laws of court etiquette; remove the railing and there will be some one falling every day.'
”The king enjoys conversing with Brinkenstein and, although decorous and dignified demeanor best pleases him, he is not averse to unconstrained cheerfulness. The queen is too serious; she is always grand organ. But one cannot dance to organ music, and as we are still young, we often feel like dancing. Brinkenstein must have commended me to the king, for he often addresses me, and in a manner that seems to say: 'We understand each other perfectly.'”
”_June 1st_ (_at night_).
”It is a pity, dear Emma, that what I have written above bears no date.
I have completely forgotten when I wrote it--auld lang syne, as it says in the pretty Scotch song.
”I feel the justice of your complaint, that my letters are written for myself and not for the one to whom they are addressed; that is, whenever I feel like writing, but not when you happen to wish for news.
But you are wrong in charging this to egotism. I am not an egotist. I am wholly absorbed by the impressions of the moment. Ah, why are you not here with me! There is not a day, not a night, not an hour-- But I shall do better. That is, I mean to try, at all events.
”The king distinguishes me above all others, and I enjoy the favor of the whole court. If it were not for the demon that ever whispers to me--
”I send you my photograph. We are now wearing wings on our hats, and the feather you see on mine was taken from an eagle that the king shot with his own hand.
”Oh, what lovely days and nights we are having! If one could only do without sleep. I am giving great attention to music and sing nothing but Schumann. His music invests the soul with a magic veil, with a fire that seems to consume while it fills you with happiness, and from the spell of which none can escape, though they try ever so hard. I gladly yield to its influence. I have just been singing 'The heavens have kissed the earth.' It was late at night, and I felt as if I could go on singing forever. You know my habit of repeating the same song again and again; of all things a _pot-pourri_ of the emotions is least to my liking. At last I lay down by the window--who was it that glided past?
I dare not say. I do not care to know. There was a humming in the direction of the lamp on my table. A moth-fly had flown into it and had been consumed by the flame. The moth had not wished to die; it had imagined the light to be a glowing flower-cup, and had buried itself in it.
”It was a beautiful death! To die in the summer night, amid song and in the light of the fiery calyx. Good-night!”
”_June 3d_,
”No matter where I am or what I do, I am always excited, without knowing why. But I have it, after all. I am constantly thinking that this letter to you is still lying in my portfolio. If any one at court knew what I have written--I have already been on the point of burning these sheets. I beg of you, destroy them. You will,--will you not? or else conceal them in some safe place. I cannot help it, I must tell you all.
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