Part 16 (2/2)
”Any one who knows you, Albert,” said _Heinrich_, kindly.
Albert's frank brown eyes gazed at him doubtfully. ”Do you think so?
Ah, when I was in prison, among the criminals whose fate I unjustly shared, I seemed like a saint; but now I am free and in the society of irreproachable men, I feel for the first time like a criminal, and scarcely venture to raise my shame-dyed face.”
”Albert, in spite of your error, you are a man of more delicate and n.o.ble feelings than millions of the irreproachable citizens who pride themselves upon their phlegmatic honesty. That is why there are so few who understand you well enough to disregard your past as I do. I will take you henceforth into my employment. Will you undertake to become my steward?”
”The steward of your estates?” asked Albert, in joyful astonishment.
”Yes; I know you studied agriculture with a landowner in V---- before you turned to the career of a priest, and came to the college. However, if you did not learn enough there, I will send you to the agricultural school at C---- for six months to perfect your education; and then I think you will become a faithful manager of my property. You can marry your Roschen; and the steward's house is so large that in the course of a few years you can tell a number of children the story of the Prison Fairy.”
A deep blush suffused Albert's face, and he clasped his hands with an involuntary sigh. ”Oh, the Prison Fairy, Herr Baron! You and the Prison Fairy are the n.o.blest human beings the Lord ever made! What shall I say to you? I can give you no better thanks than the wish that destiny may unite you!” With these words he hurried from the room.
_Heinrich_ gazed after him for a long time in silence. ”So that is the greatest blessing you can desire for me? Poor fellow! You too, without knowing it, love the Prison Fairy. It is because you must be deprived of her that freedom itself seems cold and barren; and yet she is so far above you that you do not venture to raise your eyes towards her. To me alone you will not grudge her, whom you consider the essence of everything admirable. And I? Does not the blood mount into my cheeks when I think how little I deserve what you wish me; and how, like a thief, I steal the semblance of virtues I do not possess!”
Veronica and Cornelia were sitting in their little tea-room, engaged in needle-work. ”Cornelia, you sew very little, and talk still less,” said Veronica to the young girl, who was sitting silent and motionless, gazing at the green shade that covered the lamp.
”I can neither sew nor talk: I am thinking of Ottmar,” she answered, frankly. ”Is not such a soul, which approaches ours for the first time and opens a new world to us, worthy of being received with quiet solemnity? Are we to rest on that day which commemorates a miracle that happened long ago and has never been fully proved? and when the Deity reveals one of its greatest wonders to our eyes, ought we to grudge our souls a time of sabbath repose in which to receive this lofty guest?
You must not reproach me if, under this impression, I spend a few days longer in idle dreams. It is my nature!”
”You are just what I wish to see you, my Cornelia. G.o.d grant that you may remain so! Give yourself up to your own thoughts undisturbed. Put aside your work and remain silent. People do not hold communion with each other only when they talk.”
Another pause followed, and nothing was to be heard except the clicking of Veronica's knitting-needles. But the old lady was not silent long.
”You have a deep mind, Cornelia: I could not reflect so long upon any subject; and in spite of my years I enjoy life more unquestioningly than you. What approaches me lovingly I believe in, and when I trust I enter into no subtle inquiries.”
Cornelia smiled but made no reply, for these words showed her that Veronica only partially understood her mood; and she did not feel disposed to disclose her feelings any further, though she could not have given a reason for it even to herself. Her large eyes rested affectionately upon the old lady, and she merely asked, ”Dear Veronica, are people investigating a subject when they are silently enjoying it?”
”Make the tea, my little angel,” said Veronica; ”the organ will suit your solemn mood.”
Cornelia arranged the tea-table, lighted the wick under an old-fas.h.i.+oned silver tea-kettle, and then sat down to listen to the charming music that instantly became audible. At first one could only distinguish the different tones of boiling water, but by degrees they became more melodious, and blended together not into a confused bubbling, but the notes of the choral song, ”Blick hin nach Golgotha!”
It was a wonderfully artistic plaything, concealed in the lid, and set in motion by a gla.s.s roller, by the pressure of steam. The tones of course were louder or fainter as the water boiled more or less violently, and thus the whole sounded like the singing of a tea kettle, transformed into melody by some invisible fairy.
This tender, mysterious music did indeed harmonize with Cornelia's mood, and she looked up as if roused from a dream when the stiff, precise old servant entered, and, with a doubtful mien, said that Herr von Ottmar wished to see the ladies.
”He is very welcome,” said Veronica, joyfully; and the old man, casting a sullen glance at Cornelia's blus.h.i.+ng face, opened the door.
_Heinrich_ entered. He apologized for the late hour of his visit by saying that he had received a note from the prince, directing him to prepare for a journey, and expect further orders the following day.
Thus it might happen that he would be compelled to set out at once without having any time for farewells.
Veronica a.s.sured him that no apology was necessary, and begged him to take tea with them. The old servant, to his great disgust, was ordered to bring another plate, and sternly placed a chair for _Heinrich_ beside Veronica, pressing it violently on the floor, as if he would like to make it grow there; but _Heinrich_ involuntarily pushed it towards Cornelia, and the old man withdrew, shaking his head.
Cornelia said nothing, and _Heinrich_ looked at her inquiringly. In the silence that followed he noticed the singing of the tea-kettle.
”What strange little organ have you there?” he asked, in surprise.
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