Part 9

Albano heard the report; the Minister had long appeared to him contaminating, like a cold corpse of a soul; now he hated him still more as a tormenting, blood-sucking dead man. For the Princess his heart had hitherto stood security to him. She was to him a blue day-sky, wherein to others only a hot sun blazes, wherein he, however, through the mysterious depths of the soul and of friendship, had found soft constellations beaming. But now since the rumor, which, like the magicians in the presence of Moses, threw soot into her heaven, she stood, to his eyes, shining under new lights. The hatred which he by his very nature, i. e. from pride, had of all rumor, because it controls and is not to be controlled, worked in him with fresh fire; he resolved, even because Liana must be the daughter either of her hereditary foe or of her lover, and the Princess _her_ rival, to venture freely on the strength of his heart and what it knew, and at this very juncture to communicate openly to the Princess his prayer for her mediation in favor of Liana's company upon the journey,--in other words, of his heaven.

On the morning after, the Prince came back,--the Princess immediately had her carriage tackled,--toward evening she came with one carriage more into town. The report ran through all card-tables that the Spanish Countess Romeiro had arrived at the Palace. Reports are polypuses; wounding and mutilating only multiplies them; only sticking them into each other makes one out of two: the report of Linda's arrival swallowed up the report of Froulay's disgraceful attempt.

But Albano! Like the discovery of a new world, this turned his old one topsy-turvy. Linda, that foreign tropical bird, came flying in advance of his approaching father, who rose before him like a rich land out of the distance,--the soil where he had found so many thorns and flowers soon sank behind him, with all its treasures and days, below the horizon. Only Liana could not vanish with it; that muse of his youth must he lead with him into the land of youth. By those usual magic arts of the heart had Linda's nearness awakened in him an insuperable longing for Liana.

He was now decided to remind the Princess of her earlier promise to pour the life-balsam of a southern tour upon Liana's sick nerves, and through her now, betimes, before the confusion of the last pressing moments should prostrate anything, to put the Minister's lady in tune, and gain her over, who, like all court people, would certainly hardly resist a princely wish and a happy prospect.

If, however, Liana, from any fault of her own or of others, stayed behind, then was it his sworn determination, for no power, not even his father's, to stir from the native land of his eternal bride; but to root himself before her sick-cloister, until she either passed out therefrom free and cheerful again into open life, or buried herself, darkly veiled, in the gloomy nun-choir of the dead. O, to come back to seek her in the romantic grounds of olden time, and to find her nowhere but behind the speech-grating of the hereditary vault,--this was a thought his heart could not endure!

The Princess herself furnished him an opportunity of making his request; she sent him an invitation to an astronomical party at the observatory, through her faithful court-dame Haltermann: "I have to write to you, verbally, merely the following," wrote she. "Come this evening to the observatory; I and my good Haltermann are going thither." This Haltermann, a Fraülein of few charms of spiritual flag-feathers, but of many dogmas and premature wrinkles, had already for years hung indissolubly upon the Princess, keeping everything secret, and favoring all her "make-your-appearances" (_rendez-vous_) by merely saying, "My princess is as pure as gold, and only few know her as I do."

Nothing could happen more propitious to Albano's wishes. He stood earliest of all on the noble observatory, in the midst of the lovely night. It was some days after the full moon; that shining world was as yet hidden behind the earth, but the let-on jets of its rays shot up by fits and starts. On all mountain-peaks glimmered even now a pale light, as if the distant morning of super-terrestrial worlds were falling upon them. Through the valleys the light-shunning, black, earthly beast, Night, still stretched himself out, and reared himself up against the mountains. The mountain-castle of Liana was invisible, and showed, like a fixed star, only a light. Suddenly the autumnal purple upon all summits around the castle was bedewed with silver by the moon, and a shower of light came down on the white walls and along the white avenues of the garden; at last, a strange, pale morning, glimmering through all bowers, lay in the garden, as it were the tender gleaming of a high, perfectly pure spirit, who only in the holy, silent night trod the low earth, and then and there sought nothing but the pure, still Liana.

As Albano looked and dreamed and longed, the Princess came up, with her Haltermann. The Professor almost broke himself in two with his salam before them, and allowed the fixed suns no astrological influence upon his erect posture. Albano and the Princess met each other again with an increase of reciprocal warmth. But the first question of the Princess was, whether he had seen the Spanish countess. Indifferently he said, he had been invited by the Princesse since her arrival, but had not gone. "_Ma belle sœur_ admires her most," continued the Princess; "but she deserves it somewhat. She is majestically built, taller than I, and fair, especially her head, her eye, and her hair. She is, however, more plastically than picturesquely beautiful, rather resembling a Juno or Minerva than a Madonna. But she has her peculiarities. She cannot endure any women, except such as are simple, straightforward, and blindly good; hence her chamber-women live and die for her. Men she holds to be poor creatures, and says she should despise herself if she should ever become the wife or slave of a man; but she seeks them for the sake of information. To the Prince she has unnecessarily, though she was in the right as to the matter of fact, said bitter things. He laughs at it, and says there is nothing she does love, not even children and lap-dogs. You must see her. She reads much; she lives only with the Princesse, and seems, if one may judge by her dress, to count little upon any conquests, at least at our court."

Albano said, many of these traits were truly grand, and broke short off. During the conversation the Professor had diligently arranged and screwed up everything, and was now ready to commence. He remarked upon the bright, bland, summer-like night,--proceeded, after some introductory observations, into the moon, in order to lead the six eyes to the most considerable lunar spots,--foreshadowed, in a preliminary way, several shadows overhead there,--introduced them to the Crater of Bernoulli ("I make use of Scröter's nomenclature," said he),--the highest mountain range Dörfel ("it consists, of course, of three summits," said he),--the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel ("Hevel, however, calls it Mount Horeb," said he),--then Mont Blanc, and the ring-mountains in general; and concluded with the sly assurance, that the observatory was, to be sure, still very deficient in instruments.

The Haltermann longed indescribably after the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel in the moon, and endeavored to get at the telescope. "It is only a spot in the planet, my child!" said the Princess. "And is the Mont Blanc overhead, then, nothing but a spot, too?" asked she, disappointed. The Princess nodded, and looked into the telescope; the magic moon hung like a piece of day-world close to the glass. "How its fair, pale light and all its magic passes away when it is brought near! as when the future becomes present!" said she, to the astonishment of the Professor, who could never make anything out of the planet excepting precisely when it _was_ near. She interrogated him about Saturn's ring. "There are properly two, your Highness; but the observatory just at this time wants an instrument to see it," said he, and aimed again in the direction of the former shot.

Albano saw his life-gardens sparkling round about him with the warm glimmer of an after-spring; and his inner being trembled sweetly and sadly. He took a comet-seeker, and flew round among the stars, towards Blumenbühl, into the city, up the mountains, only not to the white castle with the illuminated corner-chamber and the little garden. His whole heart turned backward for shame and love before the gate of Paradise.

At this moment, the Haltermann, at a hint to retire, led the way down with the astronomer, in order to favor the Princess with a moment free from witnesses. Albano stood before her, noble in the moonlight; his eye was radiant; his features showed emotion. She grasped his hand, and said, "We certainly do not misunderstand each other, Count?" He pressed her hand, and his eyes gushed full. "No, Princess!" said he, softly. "You give me your friendship. I do not deserve it, if I do not trust it entirely. I give you now the proof of my open confidence. You know, perhaps, the history of my fortunes and my loss; you know the Minister." "Alas, alas!" said she; "even your hard history, noble man, has become familiar to me."

"No!" replied he, passionately; "I was more cruel than my fate. I tormented an innocent heart; I made an obedient daughter miserable, sick, and blind. But I have lost her," he continued, with rising emotion, and turned sidewise, in order not to see the glimmering heights of Liana's residence, "and bear it as I can, but without any secret way to repossession. Only the victim cannot be permitted to bleed to death over yonder, with her stern, narrow-hearted mother. O, the honey-drops of the pleasures, they and Italy's heaven, might well heal _her_. She dies if she stays, and I stay to look on. Friend, O how great is the favor I ask!"

"Gladly shall it be granted you! Day after to-morrow I visit the mother and daughter, and certainly will decide the latter for the journey, in so far as it depends upon me. I do it, however,--to be frank,--merely out of genuine friendship for you; for the girl does not please me entirely with her mysticism, and certainly does not love as you do. She does everything for people merely from love to God; and that I do not like."

"Ah, so thought I, too, once; but whom should the pious love, except God?" said he, absorbed in himself and the night, and in too hyberbolical a style for the taste of the Princess. His glimmering eye hung fast on the white mountain-palace, and spring-times floated down from the moon, and glided to and fro on the illuminated track of his vision; and the beautiful youth wept and pressed ardently the hand of the Princess, without being conscious of either. She respected his heart, and disturbed it not.

At last, they both came down the high stairway, where the astronomer joyfully awaited them, and confessed to both how very much, to speak freely, their attachment and devotion to astronomy not only gladdened, but even animated and inspired him.

"Day after to-morrow, certainly!" With these words, the Princess departed, in order to grant the pensive, full-hearted youth consolation and dreams.

TWENTY-SECOND JUBILEE.

Schoppe's Heart.--Dangerous Spiritual Acquaintances.

93. CYCLE.

Albano was now again lashed to the Ixion's wheels of the clock. The setting off of the Princess and her answer were to suddenly set up lights in the dark, wide cavern in which he had so long travelled, without knowing whether it harbored frightful formations and venomous beasts, or whether it was vaulted, and filled with glistening arches and subterranean pillared halls. Over Liana's condition two hands--Augusti's and that of the Minister's lady--had hitherto held fast the veil. Both were persons who never liked to answer the question, How do you do? However, he now let his whole soul rest upon the Princess, since the astronomical evening, in remembering which, he could hardly comprehend how it was that he was able at that time to speak to a female friend about his love as much and more than ever to a friend of his own sex. But man does not love to speak of his feelings before a man, and does love to before a woman. A woman, however, loves best to do so before a woman. Meanwhile, the Princess held him in bonds by the finest flattery which can be,--by decided and silent attention. He was as sick and sated of verbal praise as he was partial and tributary to that which came in a practical shape.

Pending the arrival of the decision, a confused time elapsed; like a man who travels in the night, he heard voices and saw lights; and it needed morning to decide upon their hostile or friendly significance. Rabette lay sick and bleeding away her faint heart; for not he had drawn out of it the astringent dagger,--namely, Charles's love,--but the latter had himself anticipated him with bitter-sweet tears over the bitterest.

Charles had met him once, with his hat drawn down over his brows, and grimly-stinging look, without a greeting. Everywhere he heard that Charles in vain besieged and blockaded Linda's and Julienne's double gate. This and Liana's illness made the tropical savage like a grownup wild boy of the woods. Even in the present state of separation,--on the death-field of _friendship_,--Albano felt it as a wound to _humanity_, that Charles did not take for granted--for to the contrary presumption he imputed the street-grimness--that he would not seek to see the Countess.

Even in the Librarian, for several days, a mystery seemed to have been lurking. He, however, since it had been growing lighter and lighter to Alban in Schoppe's depths, and he had looked in behind his comic mask, even to the honest eye and loving lips, became very near to his heart, especially after so many partings; for even the Lector, according to his custom never to court the love of any man, or, at least, faithless friend, kept himself aloof from him,--a thing which afflicted the very same youth, who inwardly approved it.

For several days, I say, Schoppe had been transposed into an entirely new tune, and become his own remainder and after-summer. It began with his blowing away at a miserable haying song a whole half-day on the bugle; the remaining half he sang it off vocally. Instead of reading and writing, he went up and down in the city and in his chamber. All that which he had formerly despatched with rapidity,--running, swallowing of victuals, speaking, smoking, starting up,--all this went now club-footed, and finally stood fast. His slow rousing up, and his tender, gentle step, might have seemed ludicrous to those who were acquainted with his former days. His large, noble wolf-dog, whom he had ten times a day suffered to hug him round the neck with his fore-paws, and whose breast, drawn up on the skin, he so fondly pressed to his own, when he held with him a Lange's and consistorial colloquy, he now neglected to such a degree that the dog became attentive, and did not know what to think of it. How little could he once endure the yelp of a cudgelled hound without sallying out of his house-door as protector and patron, because he conceived one might well treat men like dogs, but not dogs themselves so! Now he could hear their screaming, merely because, as it seemed, he did not hear it.

As he formerly often went to Albano merely to walk up and down, without a loud word,--because he said, "By this I recognize my friend, that he does not undertake to entertain me or himself, but will merely sit there,"--so now he came still more mute, often touched tenderly, like a playful child, the shoulder of Albano as he sat reading, and said, when the latter looked behind him, "Nothing!" Meanwhile, Albano inquired not about the change; for he knew he would surely unveil it to him in good time. Their hearts stood over against each other like open mirrors.

So lay the dark wood of life before Albano, with its paths running through each other and deep into the thicket, as he stood upon the cross-way of his future and waited for his genius, who, either as a hostile or as a good one, was to bring him Liana's decision. At last there came from the gloomy wood a genius, but it was the dark genius, and gave him this note from the Princess:--

"Dear Count: I am always true, and would rather be unsparing than _un_true. The sick Mademoiselle v. F. is no longer in a condition to make a tour or profit by it. I take a lively interest in the case. However fondly I could wish to-day myself to speak consolation to you, I hope, nevertheless, after this intelligence, not to have occasion to do so.

"Your Friend."

What a dark cloud-break out of the morning redness of youth! So then the secret joy which he had hitherto nourished had been the forerunner of the dreadful blow,[43] the soft murmuring before the waterfall.[44] That his very love was to be the blazing sword which pierced through her life: O, he dwelt upon that so constantly; _that_ pained him so! But there was no moisture in his eye; the wormwood of conscience embitters even sorrow.

When man is no longer his own friend, then he goes to his brother, who is a friend still, in order that _he_ may softly speak to him and restore his heart and soul; Albano went to his Schoppe.

He found not him, but something else. Schoppe, namely, kept a diary about "himself and the world," wherein his friend might read whatever and whenever he wished; only he must pardon it, if he carried away with him from the reading, since it was written throughout just as if no one were to see it again,--angry slaps of the fan, and that, too, with the hard end. "Why should I spare thee any more than myself?" said Schoppe. To this _thou_ they had come without being able to say when, chary as they generally were of this official style of the heart, this holiest dual of souls toward others; "for I thank God," said Schoppe, "that I live in a language in which I can sometimes say you, yes even (if men and monkeys are subjects for it) between every two commas, your Well-born, as well as your High-born, or Otherwise-born."

Albano found the diary open, and read with astonishment this:--"_Amandus-day_. A stupid and extremely remarkable day for the well-known Hesus or Hanus![45] I can hardly persuade myself that the poor Thunder-god deserved to walk along behind the tall Proserpine,[46] and at last to peep into her face, her brow, her lips, her neck! O God! If such a god had stayed now on the spot! As _Pastor fido_ he by good fortune rose up again and went on his way. O hell-goddess, heaven-stormer of Hesus, thou hast made thyself his heaven! Can he ever let thee go?

"_Afternoon_. The _Pastor_ becomes his own baiting-house, he knows not how to stay; he lives now in all streets, in order to behold his _Jeanne d'Arc-en-ciel_,[47] and suffers enough. But, Hesus, are not sorrows the thorns, wherewith the buckle of love fastens? To-day Friday[48] went with the Princess to the observatory. The wind is south-east-east,[49]--read thirteen monthlies in one hour,--Spener sees life transfigured and poetic in the shining magnifying-mirror God, as well as another man.

"_Sabina's day_. With the _Pastor_ it grows worse, if I see right. He is in the way to work himself over into a _billet-doux-presser_, to powder himself by night in bed; and the knave already raises in the heat, like milk which is kept warm, poetic cream. Only may Heaven never grant him to fall into a rational discourse with his hell-goddess, face to face, breath to breath, and the two souls be confounded together! Verily, Flins[50] would snatch him away, Hesus would devour a millennial kingdom at once; I fear he would become too wild with the nectar, and too hard for me to control.

"_Evening_. Is it not already so far gone with the _Pastor_, that he has borrowed him an author out of the whining decade of the age (he is ashamed to name him), and will fain let himself be affected by the stupid stuff, while he muses upon the effect which the author had upon him in his fourteenth year. Of course he stumbles at him, in his present period of life, like a night-watchman by day; but still he cries back his cry, and has a new affection on the subject of his old. So does the declension of _cornu_ in the grammar still smile upon me, even to this hour, because I recollect how easily and glibly in the golden moons of childhood I retained the whole of the _Singular_.

"_Simon Jud_.[51] Curse on it! A fair face and a false Maxd'or make, in the course of a year, a couple of hundred knaves, who differ from each other only in this, that one wishes to keep and the other to get rid of the article. Hesus frowns, and charges home upon a million rivals already. Like button- and lace-makers, or like copper- and brass-founders, two so nearly of a trade cannot let each other get on.[52] Right! hell-goddess, that thou hatest all men! That is, to be sure, something for the _Pastor_,--a wound-salve! Scioppius, the two Scaligers, and the vigorous Schlegels, &c.--"

Here the diary passes to other matters. An old portrait, for which Schoppe had sat to himself, he had retouched. A notice to be inserted in the "Pestitz Weekly Advertiser" announced the purpose of the picture:--

"The undersigned, a portrait-painter of the Flemish school, makes known that he has taken up his residence in Pestitz, and that he is ready to paint all of every station and sex that may sit to him. As a sample of his execution may be seen at his studio a portrait of himself, which represents him sneezing, and which may be compared with the original on the spot. I also cut profiles.

"Peter Schoppe,

"No. 1778."

Probably that was to move the hell-goddess to sit for once to the sneezing painter. Albano could not but be astonished in the midst of deep pain. In the beginning, he had imagined, according to the simplicity of his nature, that he himself was meant by Hanus.

At this moment, Schoppe appeared. Albano spoke first, and said, softly, "I, too, have read thy diary." The Librarian started back with an exclamatory curse, and looked glowingly out of the window. "What is the matter, Schoppe?" asked his friend. He whirled round, stared at him, and said, twisting the skin of his face apart, like one who is cleaning his teeth, and drawing up his upper lip, like a boy who bites into his bread and butter, "I am in love," and ran up and down the chamber in a flame, bewailing, at the same time, that he must live to experience such a thing in himself in these his oldest days. "Read my diary no more," he continued. "Ask not about the name, brother; no devil, no angel, not the hell-goddess, shall know it. One day, perhaps, when I and she lie in Abraham's bosom, and I on hers--thou art so troubled, brother!"