Das landhaus am Rhein. English

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  BY THE AUTHOR OF "VILLA EDEN."

  ON THE HEIGHTS.

  Revised Edition. In one volume, with Pictorial Title. 16mo. Cloth.Price, $2.00.

  EDELWEISS.

  One volume. With Pictorial Title. Square 16mo. Neat Cloth. Price,$1.00.

  GERMAN TALES.

  One volume. Square 16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00.

  * * * * *

  -->_Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of the price, by the Publishers,_

  ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.

  "_Be patient a few minutes longer! There's a manbeckoning to go with us_," _said the boatman to his passengers_.--VILLAEDEN, Page 1.]

  VILLA EDEN:

  THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE.

  By BERTHOLD AUERBACH.

  TRANSLATED BY CHARLES C. SHACKFORD.

  BOSTON: ROBERTS BROTHERS. 1871.

  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by ROBERTS BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

  THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE.

  A ROMANCE, BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH.

  BOOK I.

  CHAPTER I.

  THE APPARITION.

  "Be patient a few: minutes longer! There's a man beckoning to go withus," said the boatman to his passengers, two women and one man. The manwas gray-haired, of slender form, rubicund face, and blue eyes of akindly, but absent-minded and weary expression; a heavy moustache,wholly covering the upper lip, seemed out of keeping with thisinoffensive face. He wore a new summer suit of that fashionablematerial which seems be-dashed and be-sprinkled with white, as if thewearer had purposely rolled himself in a feather bed. He had, moreover,a pretty wallet attached to a leather belt, and embroidered with blueand red beads.

  Opposite the man sat a tall and stately woman, with restless eyes andsharp features, that might once have been attractive. She shook herhead, vexed at the delay, like one not accustomed to be kept waiting,got up, and sat down again. She wore a pale-yellow silk dress, and thewhite veil on her gray round hat was wound about the rim like the bandaround a turban. Again she threw back her head with a quick movement,then looked straight down before her, as if not to show any interest inthe stranger, and boring with the point of her large parasol into theside of the boat.

  Near the man sat a smiling, fair maiden, in a blue summer suit, andholding in her hand, by the elastic string, a small blue hat ornamentedwith a bird's wing. Her head was rather large and heavy, and the broadforehead was made yet more massive by a rich abundance of braided hair;a large curl on each side rested upon her shoulder and breast. Thegirl's countenance was bright and clear as the clear day which shed itsbeams over the landscape. She put on her hat, and the mother gave it alittle touch to adjust it properly. The girl exchanged quickly hercoarse leather gauntlets for delicate, glossy ones which she took outof her pocket; and while drawing them on with great dexterity, shelooked at the new-comer.

  A tall and handsome young man, with a full brown beard, a sinewy frame,a gray shawl over his shoulder, and upon his head a broad-brimmed grayhat with black crape, same down the steep and zigzag path with avigorous step to the shore. He stepped into the boat, and lifting hishat while bowing in silence, displayed a noble white forehead shaded bydark-brown hair. His countenance spoke courage and firmness, and, atthe same time, had an expression that awakened confidence and trust.

  The girl cast down her eyes, while her mother once more fastened andunfastened her hat-string, contriving at the same time, with seemingcarelessness, to place one long curl in front, and the other upon theshoulder behind, so as to be becoming, and to look easy and natural.

  The man in the mottled suit pressed the white head of his cane to hislips. The stranger, seating himself apart from the others, gazed intothe stream, whilst the boat was moving rapidly through the water. Theylanded at an island on which was a large convent, now a boarding-schoolfor girls.

  "Oh, how beautiful! and are the lessons learned there?" asked the girl,pointing to a group of lofty trees on the shore, clustered so neartogether that they seemed to have grown out of one root, and with lowseats inside the grove. "Go on!" said the mother with a reproving lookto the girl, and immediately taking her husband's arm. The girl went onbefore, and the stranger followed them.

  In the thickets sang the nightingales, the blackbirds, and the finches,as if they would proclaim, "Here is the peace and the rest of Paradise,and no one disturbs us." The dark fir-trees with their shelteringbranches, and the long row of light-green larches stood motionless bythe shore, and bees hummed in the blossoming chestnut-trees. Theyreached the convent. The building, without any architecturalpeculiarity, had an extended prospect of the garden, the meadows on theisland, the river, and the mountains. It was shut up, and no humanbeing was to be seen. The old gentleman pulled the bell; a portressopened a small window, and asked what was wanted. Admission wasdemanded, but the portress replied that it could not possibly begranted that evening. "Take in my card, and say to the good mother thatI am here with my wife and daughter," said the old gentleman. "Permitme to add also my card," said the stranger. The three looked round,struck by the pleasant tone of his voice. The stranger handed his card,and added, "Please say to the worthy Lady Superior, that I bring amessage of greeting from my mother."

  The portress closed the window quickly, while the four stood at theentrance. "I took you for a Frenchman," said the old gentleman with akindly tone to the young man. "I am a German," he replied. "Have youthen a relative in the convent, and are you acquainted with the goodmother?" "No, I know no one here." The answers of the stranger were soshort and direct, that he gave no opportunity to continue theconversation, and the old gentleman appeared to be a man of positionand character, who was accustomed to be addressed, and not to makeadvances. He walked with the two ladies towards a beautiful flower-bed,and placed himself with his companions upon a seat. But the girl wasrestless, and walking up and down along the edge of the meadow, shegathered the hidden violets. The young man remained standing as ifrooted to the spot, staring at the stone steps which led up to thecloister-door, as though he must find out what various destinies hadalready gone in and out over them.

  Meanwhile, the old gentleman said to his wife, "That elegant young manappears to me to be a gambler, who has lost all his means at one of theneighboring baths. Who knows but that he wants to borrow money of theLady Superior?" She laughed at her husband for being disposed to seenow, for the third time during this journey, a criminal or a ruined manin the persons they chanced to meet.

  "You may be right," said the old gentleman; "but that's the mischief ofthese showy, establishments, that one supposes everybody he meets hassomething to do with them. Besides, just as it happened with ourdaughter--"

  "What happened with me?" asked the girl from the meadow. "Why,"continued the father, "how often, when walking behind you at the baths,have I heard people say, 'What beautiful false hair!' no one now thinksthat there is anything genuine."

  The girl laughed merrily to herself, and then ad
ding a violet to thenosegay on her bosom, called out, "And I believe the stranger is apoet." "Why?" asked the mother. "Because a poet must be handsome likehim." The old gentleman laughed, and the mother said, "Child, you aremanufacturing a poet out of your own imagination; but, silence! let usgo, the portress is beckoning to us."

  The convent door opened, and the visitors entered. Behind the secondgrated door stood two nuns in black garments with hempen cords abouttheir waists. The taller nun, an old lady with an extraordinarily largenose, told them that the Lady Superior was sorry not to be able toreceive any one; that it was the evening before her birth-day, and shealways remained, on that day, alone until sunset; that there was afurther difficulty in admitting strangers to-day, as the children--forso she called the pupils--had prepared a spectacle with which to greetthe Superior after sun-down; that everything was in disorder to-day, asa stage had been erected in the great dining-hall; that the Superior,however, had ordered that they should be shown over the convent.

  The two nuns led the way through the main passage. Their step was hardand noisy, for they wore wooden shoes fastened to the feet by leatherstraps over the stockings. The smaller and prettier nun, with herdelicate features pinched up in the close-fitting cap, had kept herselftimidly in the background, allowing the other to do the talking. Butnow she addressed the girl in the blue muslin dress, speaking inFrench. The mother gave a nod of satisfaction to the father, as much asto say, "There, now; you see it was worth while to let the child learnsomething; that was my doing, and you only reluctantly consented." Thefather could not refrain from informing the nun with the big nose thathis daughter, Lina, had returned, only six months before, from theConvent of the "Sacred Heart" at Aix-la-Chapelle. The stranger alsospoke a few words in French to the pretty nun. But now, and as often ashe addressed her, she drew herself shyly back, apparently not fromtimidity, but with a nervous involuntary shrinking into herself.

  The breakfast-room, school-room, and music-room, and the largedormitories were shown to the strangers, and they admired the neatnessand good order everywhere seen. Especially in the sleeping-roomseverything was arranged as prettily and neatly, as if not real humanbeings, much less careless children, inhabited them, but as ifeverything had been made ready for fairy visitants. In one little bedonly was there any disturbance. Lina drew back the curtain, and a childwith great brown eyes looked up. The young man had also come to thebedside. "What is the matter with the child?" asked Lina. "Onlyhomesickness." "Only homesickness," said the stranger in a low tone tohimself, while the lady asked, "How do you cure homesickness?" "Thehousekeeper has a sure method; a child complaining of homesickness isput on the sick-list, and must stay in bed; when she is allowed to getup, the homesickness is gone, and she feels at home." "Go away, all ofyou! go away! I want Manna, I want Manna," moaned the child. "She willcome soon," said the nun, soothingly, adding in explanation, "No onebut an American girl can pacify the child." "That must be our Manna,"said Lina to her mother. The twilight was gathering, and through thegalleries, in the golden evening light, strange forms rustled in longgreen, blue, and red garments, and then vanished within the cells.

  The visitors went into the dining-room, at the farther end of whichthere was the representation of a forest scene with a hermitage; andthere lay a doe bound with a red cord. The young creature fixed itsgreat eyes on the strangers, and tugging at its cord, tried to getaway.

  The French nun said that the children, aided by one of the sisters whohad a natural talent that way, had themselves arranged the decorations.Large choirs had been practicing, and one of the pupils, a veryremarkable child, had composed the piece which represented a scene fromthe life of the Superior's patron saint.

  The German nun regretted that no stranger could be present. A copy ofthe song to be introduced in the play was lying upon a chair. The lady,taking it up, read it and handed it over to the young man, who ranthrough the verses. "It's astonishing that a child should have composedthem," said the lady. The young stranger felt obliged to make somereply, and observed in a somewhat careless tone, "Our German language,especially when used in rhyming, is an instrument that can easily bedrummed upon, and thrummed upon, by any child."

  "I told you so; he is a poet," said the triumphant look of the girl toher parents.

  As they were leaving the dining-hall, now turned into a temporarytheatre, Lina remarked to the pretty Frenchwoman how sorry she was notto be able to see her young friend, Hermanna Sonnenkamp; she herselfwas obliged to return that very evening with her parents, as they hadbeen invited to attend, to-morrow afternoon, a reception at theCountess von Wolfsgarten's.

  The girl said this with a proud emphasis, as if assured that every onemust know what was the full significance of a reception at Count vonWolfsgarten's. The Frenchwoman must have noticed it, for she replied,"Here, on the contrary, we do not know each other by the names appliedto us in the world outside; we here know only our convent names."

  "May I know yours?" "Certainly; I am called sister Seraphia." The girlseemed now on more intimate terms with the French sister, since shecould call her "sister Seraphia;" and she rejoiced at the thought ofbeing able to tell at home, in her own little town, about the nun ofhigh rank, at least a princess, whose acquaintance she had made. Theywalked back through the long gallery, and as they went down the steps,there came up a snow-white form with great wings on its shoulders, anda glittering diadem on its head, from which long black ringletsstreamed down over bosom and neck. Deep, black eyes, with long lashesand thick brows, gleamed out of the pale countenance. "Manna!" criedLina, and "Manna!" echoed the vaulted ceiling. The winged apparitiongrasped the hand of the speaker, and leading her aside down the stairssaid, "Is it you, dear Lina? Ah, I have only been with a poor childpining with homesickness; to-day I cannot speak a word with any otherliving soul."

  "O, how wonderful you look! how splendid! To the child you must be areal live angel! And how glad they will all be at home, when I tellthem."

  "Not a word about it. Excuse me to your parents for flitting by them,and--who, who is the young man here with you?"

  The stranger seemed aware that they were talking about him, and lookedfrom below up to the wonderful vision. He shaded his eyes with hishand, to take a better look, but he could see none of the features,nothing but the mysterious shape and the two gleaming eyes.

  "We don't know who he is; he joined us first in the boat; but," sheadded, smiling at her own suggestion, "you can find out, for he sent agreeting from his mother to the Superior; ask her by and by. Don't youthink him handsome?"

  "O Lina! how you talk! May the Holy St. Genevieve intercede with thedear God to pardon you for saying that, and me"--covering her face withher hands--"for hearing it. Farewell, Lina, greet every one for me."

  As the winged apparition swept along the corridor, she was unable tohear Lina calling out that she would, to-morrow, tell them at theCountess Wolfsgarten's all about her. The vision vanished. They leftthe convent, and at the door the old gentleman said to the young man,"It is a good thing for girls to be educated in a convent on an island,away from the rest of the world." "Girls at the convent, and boys atthe barracks! fine world that!" answered the young man, in a sharptone.

  Without a word in reply, the old gentleman, turning away, drew off afew paces with the ladies as if he wished to have no furtherintercourse with a stranger of such revolutionary sentiments. Thestranger hastened to the boat, and was speedily set across. The streamwas like pure, molten gold, and the stranger dipping his fingers intoit bathed his forehead and eyes. He sprang lightly ashore, and lookingover to the island-convent, saw the man, with wife and daughter, justgoing down to the boat; he waved a distant farewell with his hat, andwith a rapid step went up the hill behind the ruins of the castle,overlooking the convent. He continued sitting there for a long time,gazing fixedly at the convent on the island. He heard songs from maidenvoices, saw the long row of windows brightly lighted up, and at last,looking up to the stars, he exclaimed, "O mother!" What did that mean?Perhaps his mot
her had said to him, that at some time or other awonderful experience would come over him. The nightingale in thethicket sang on unceasingly, and the young man listened to the song,but would gladly have silenced it in order that he might hear moreplainly the singing of the children in the convent, who with magicpower had conjured up a dream of heaven into their actual life, and forone hour become choirs of singing angels. "Alone in the spring night,amidst the Castle-ruins with beating heart! Can it be I?" said theyoung man to himself.

  He descended the hill, and as he reached the inn, met the man with thetwo women just ready to start for the rail-road station. He would haveliked to ask the girl who that wonderful apparition was, but herestrained himself. What would be the use? Better that thou knowest hernot; then the charm of the vision is pure and undisturbed. He went intothe inn; he sat there and read the bill of fare without knowing what hewas reading, and what he should select. He stared at the card until thewaiter came and asked for it, in order to give it to another guest. Heordered what happened to meet his eye. "What wine would you like? Wehave 'Drachenblut' of a choice vintage." "Bring some Drachenblut."

  He ate and drank without knowing what; he only knew that he must eatand drink something; absently he took up a newspaper lying upon thetable. What are convents? what are ruined castles? what is theapparition of a girl with wings? Here is the world, the real, thestirring, the actual world of to-day. You come into an inn, weary aftera wide survey from a mountain top, and involuntarily you lay hold of anewspaper,--why is this? It may be that the eye and the mind, tired outby the manifestations of unmoving nature, become refreshed by viewingwhat is perpetually changing in the world; you are alone, you need tohear some word spoken by one to many, and the newspaper tells you aboutthe world which has kept on its way while you were dreaming, while youwere losing yourself in the boundless prospect, and coming to yourselfagain.

  Yes, it is so now! How it was in other times, when one could live on inundisturbed dreaminess, we can hardly imagine. At all times--whether inthe pressure of heavy affliction, when our own life has become aburden, and the world indifferent, or in exalted feeling, when we aretransported, as it were, out of all actual existence--the newspapercomes, and demands our attention, and calls to us as if we were tocooperate everywhere in the various relations of the world.

  What has America to do with the young man? and yet he has just read anaccount of matters there; the choice of a new President of the Republicwas exciting all minds in the New World, and the name of a man who wasa pattern of uprightness and worldwide views, Abraham Lincoln, seemedto penetrate everywhere, and to bring with it a great crisis in thehistory of humanity. Deeply interested, he looked up smiling, for heremembered that the Frenchwoman had said that an American girl couldalone console the homesick child, and that she had also composed theplay for the festival. Here a child plays with sacred stories, whilstall is in commotion in her Fatherland. The thoughts of the young manwere again in the convent, and with the wonderful apparition.

  Just as he was laying down the paper, his eye fell upon anadvertisement. He knit his brows, looked around, and read again; thenasking permission to keep the paper, he carried it with him to hischamber. "A handsome man," said the guests, after he had gone;"evidently a young widower, who wishes to find distraction from hisgrief in a Rhine-journey; he wears a weed on his hat.'"