Part 24 (1/2)
”And the heroine of this drama, is she called 'Arivana?'” asked the baroness.
”No, that is only the name of a sacred place of refuge during the middle ages, upon which the scene of the drama was laid. The heroine's name is--Ada.”
Rojanow spoke the name half-aloud, with a certain hesitation, and gave her a triumphant glance as he saw the same lowering of the head over the flowers as when he first spoke; he came a few steps nearer now while he continued:
”I heard the name for the first time on Indian ground, and it had for me a strangely sweet sound, so I adopted it for my character, and now I learn here that it is, in this country, but the abbreviation of a German name.”
”Of Adelheid--yes. I was always called Ada in my father's house. But it is not at all remarkable that the same sounds are repeated in different languages.”
The words were spoken coldly, but the speaker did not raise her eyes from the flowers with which her hand played.
”Not at all,” agreed Hartmut. ”It has often been a surprise to me to hear the same fable repeated in different countries over and over again.
The coloring is different, to be sure, but the pa.s.sion, the woe, the happiness of our human race is alike in them all.”
Adelheid shrugged her shoulders.
”I won't dispute over the matter with a poet, but doubt it, notwithstanding. I think our German legends wear a different countenance from the dreamy tales of India.”
”Perhaps, but when you study them deeply, you will discover the same features in both. These common features are manifest in the legend of 'Arivana,' at least. The princ.i.p.al character is that of a young priest who has consecrated himself, body and soul, to the service of his divinity, to the holy fire, but in time he is mastered by an earthly love with all its glow and pa.s.sion, till his priestly vows dissolve in its consuming flame.”
He stood opposite her, quietly and respectfully, but his voice had an odd, covert sound, as if something of deeper significance were hidden beneath this story. Frau von Wallmoden looked up at him suddenly, and said, gazing earnestly into his face:
”And--the end?”
”The end is death, as in all these legends. The knowledge of the broken vows comes to light and the guilty ones are offered as a sacrifice to an enraged deity--the priest perishes in the flames with the woman whom he loves.”
There was a second's pause after the last words were spoken, then Adelheid rose abruptly; she would end this conversation at once.
”You are right; no doubt the legends do resemble ours; it is only the old story of sin and atonement.”
”Do you call that sin, my dear lady?” Hartmut dropped suddenly the more formal madame or baroness. ”Men call it sin and punish it accordingly, without any premonition that such a punishment will lead to perfect happiness. To pa.s.s away in a flame of fire after one has enjoyed the highest earthly joys, and is yet surrounded by them in death. Ah! that is to die like a G.o.d--far better such a death than a long, stupid, humdrum existence. Eternal, undying love rises like a flaming brand to the heavens above, in defiance of mankind's sentence--do you not think such an ending is enviable?”
Adelheid's face was pale, but her voice was as steady and cool as ever, as she answered:
”No, nothing is enviable but death for a high and holy duty. One can forgive sin, but can never admire it.”
Hartmut bit his lips and gave the slender, white robed figure who stood near him a threatening glance.
”Ah, what a hard sentence to meet my drama at the outset, for I have expended all my strength in transfiguring just such love and death. What if the world's judgment is like yours--I beg your pardon, madame.”
He crossed to the divan upon which she had been sitting, where her fan and the camelia blossom yet lay.
”I thank you,” said Adelheid, extending her hand for them, but he only handed her the fan.
”I beg your pardon--I wrote my 'Arivana' upon the veranda of a little Indian house where these lovely flowers were gleaming through the dark foliage on all sides, and to-day they greet me here again in the cold north. May I not keep this blossom?”
Adelheid made a little impatient motion.
”No; for what reason?”